The sound that leaves Rhodes is nothing short of a growl.
An actual fucking growl.
I don’t know how to feel about that.
Miller just laughs and heads back to his seat. Lowell rises from the table and heads our way.
He gives Rhodes an almost imperceptible headshake but hugs him for show. I can’t read his lips, but I know whatever he whispers to Rhodes, he does not like.
Lowell frowns down at me, and I somehow feel like I’ve disappointed my dad. Ridiculous because he’s only a couple of years older than me, but it’s the way he carries himself that makes me feel so small. No wonder he’s the team captain. He’s scary as hell.
He gives me a quick hug, and we all take our seats. Rhodes and I are directly across from Harper and Collin.
Harper gives me a sad smile and mouths, You okay?
I shrug because…am I okay? I don’t know.
Unable to stand the way she’s looking at me—like I’m a skittish kitten about to run away—I turn my attention to the menu in front of me.
Miller turns to Rhodes. “Dude, I know I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks, but I had no idea you two were dating, and I sure as shit had no idea it was this serious.” He gasps. “Oh, fuck. Did you get her pregnant?”
The way he whispers pregnant makes me laugh, causing Rhodes to look over at me. I ignore him.
“Shut the fuck up, Miller,” Lowell chides.
“What? It’s a genuine question. How else do you explain a shotgun wedding?”
Alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.
“Besides, it’s not my fault I have pregnancy brain. My sister is knocked up, and babies are all I can think about.”
“That’s terrifying on many levels,” Rhodes comments, and I have to agree.
“That’s not how pregnancy brain works, you moron.” Lowell shakes his head. “And you don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant. That’s like rule number one in life.”
Miller’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red as he peeks over at me. “Sorry.”
I jump a little when a hand wraps around mine. Rhodes laces our fingers together, rubbing at the ring sitting on my finger. The same one he placed there last night. “Not pregnant. We’ve kept it quiet, but we just couldn’t hold it in any longer.” He says it with such sincerity that even I almost believe it. He grins over at me. “When you know, you know, right, babe?”
Ugh—babe. Gag me with a spoon.
Steven used to call me that, and I hated it then too.
“That’s right, honey.” My words drip with just as much sarcasm as his.
His eyes flare at the pet name.
Good. Looks like he hates them too.
“Aww,” Miller says, “this is some shit right out of a romantic comedy.”
Rhodes and I exchange a glance because he has no idea just how close to the truth he is.
Our server comes by and grabs our orders, saving us from answering more questions about whether I’m knocked up or not. The conversation around us flows easily, Miller moving on from grilling us about our newfound love.
It’s not until our breakfast arrives that I realize I’m still holding Rhodes’ hand.
I think out of all the crazy things to happen so far this weekend, the level of comfort I find in his touch might just be the hardest pill to swallow.
8
RHODES
After lunch, we all went our separate ways. I didn’t even argue with Ryan when she said she was heading to her own room. We should probably spend some time getting to know one another, but I needed a break.
I needed a break because sometime during lunch I realized it felt a little too comfortable to be sitting next to Ryan. That realization came when I noticed I held her hand far longer than I needed to.
It felt…good. Easy.
Almost…right.
And that made me want to hurl my lunch back up, so I hid in my room like a total wuss.
I sacked up and finally gave my general manager and coach a call to set up plans for a meeting first thing tomorrow morning so we can go over a press release. To say they were surprised by my sudden nuptials would be an understatement.
That’s one of the not-so-fun things about being a professional hockey player. Everybody is all up in your business all the time, and there’s a press release for everything.
Some days I really question my decision to shoot for pro hockey, but then I step out on the ice, and all the other bullshit I have to deal with fades away.
Hockey is my life. I live it, love it, and breathe it. All this other bullshit is worth it for those twenty minutes of ice time eighty-two nights a year.
Now I’m smashed between Lowell and Miller in the back seat of an Uber. Ryan and Harper are sitting in the seat in front of us, and Collin is in front, talking with the driver.
Lowell taps his legs against mine. He moves his eyes between Ryan and me.
“You good?”
I shrug. Am I good? I don’t know.
“Of course he’s good!” Miller says. “Dude just got hitched. Please tell me you’re going to have a party to celebrate since it was so last minute and none of us were invited. Not that I’m going to hold that against you or anything.”
A party? My first reaction is a big Fuck no.
But…a party might not actually be a bad idea. It would give Ryan and me a chance to introduce ourselves to everybody as a couple. Maybe it could help break the ice a little bit too.
“Actually,” I say loud enough for Ryan to hear me, “I think a party would be a good idea. Don’t you think so, darling?”
I swear I hear Ryan roll her eyes at the pet name. I picked up pretty quick that she is not a fan, and if she thinks I’m not going to keep using them just to fuck with her, she’s wrong.
When she turns around, she has a big, fake-as-hell smile pasted on her face. “A party is a great idea, honey.”
My lips twitch at the pet name she tosses back.
“Fuck yes!” Miller shouts. “Party time!”
How he’s excited to party after a weekend in Vegas, I have no idea. I am all partied out. In fact, I could never party again and it would be too soon.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I should probably ignore it, especially since I’m sure it’s just my mom calling again, but I decide to check it anyway because I need the distraction. I can feel Lowell’s gaze burning a hole in the side of my head. I know he wants to talk about everything, but I’m just not up for it right now.
* * *
Unknown: A party? Really??
* * *
It takes me a minute to catch on to who this could possibly be. Then the sad reality of it hits me—it’s Ryan.
I don’t even have my own wife’s number saved on my phone.
I add it in and text her back.
* * *
Me: Trust me, I don’t want to do this either, but I think it could help us. Get used to being seen together.
* * *
Me: It’ll be good practice.
* * *
Ryan: Please tell me I’m not the only one who finds it incredibly sad that we have to practice being a couple.
* * *
It is sad. So very fucking sad.
* * *
Me: It’s not just you.
* * *
Ryan: When are we having this party?
* * *
Me: I guess after you move in. Maybe an end-of-summer party?
* * *
Me: But I’m sure as soon as the press release goes out, everyone’s going to be on our asses about it.
* * *
Ryan: PRESS RELEASE?! What for?
* * *
Ryan: Oh. Never mind. I forgot for a moment that you’re famous.
* * *
Me: I’m not famous.
* * *
Ryan: Says the guy who randomly gets married in Vegas, then trends on Twitter about it.
* * *
Me: You’re not exactly unknown yourself, Ms. 500
k Followers.
* * *
Ryan: Why do I feel like you’re making fun of me for having a social media presence?
* * *
Me: I’m not.
* * *
I’m really not making fun of her.
Do I understand it? No. But to be fair, all I do is play a game for a living and get beat up by other grown-ass men.
We both have weird careers when you think about it.
* * *
Me: I think what you do is kind of cool.
* * *
Me: But your photography is more my style.
* * *
Ryan: You’ve seen it?
* * *
Me: At Collin’s place. It’s nice.
* * *
She’s only sitting a row in front of me, so I see the surprise cross her face. I’m not really sure how I feel about her being shocked that I complimented her.
I meant what I said. Her photography is nice. Actually, it’s more than nice. It’s pretty fucking incredible. The first time I went over to Collin’s place and saw the three-piece set of the bridge we cross every day to go to the rink he has hanging over his fireplace, it took my breath away. Then he told me Ryan did it, and that shocked me even more. From all the shit Collin and Harper went through before, I knew she dabbled, but I didn’t realize how talented she truly is.
I really want to ask her why she doesn’t take it more seriously, but I don’t feel like it’s any of my business. Besides, I’m sure she has her reasons, and she doesn’t owe me any sort of explanation.
* * *
Ryan: Thank you.
* * *
Me: You’re welcome.
* * *
Ryan: Okay, stop being nice. It’s weird.
* * *
Me: I take great offense to that.
* * *
Me: I’m plenty nice.
* * *
She actually laughs out loud at my response, and it pisses me off.
* * *
Me: Did you just laugh because I said I’m nice?
* * *
Ryan: You’re not nice. You’re grumpy.
* * *
Me: I thought I was hot and grumpy.
* * *
Ryan: Oh my god, you’re not going to let me live that down, are you?
* * *
Me: Not a chance in hell.
* * *
Ryan: That’s not very nice, husband.
* * *
Me: I thought you said I couldn’t be nice, wife.
* * *
Ryan: You can be nice. Just not too nice. It’s weird.
* * *
Me: Be nice but not too nice. Got it.
* * *
Ryan: You can add “Don’t be annoying” to that list too.
* * *
Me: Now where’s the fun in that?
* * *
Ryan: Are you finished being obnoxious?
* * *
Me: Nope, I’m just getting started.
* * *
Ryan: Wonderful.
* * *
Me: Just trying to keep your expectations of our marriage realistic, dear.
* * *
Ryan: You are just too good to me, sweetums.
* * *
That one makes me laugh out loud.
“Oh, gross. Are you two sexting right now?”
Lowell groans next to me, tossing his head back with exasperation. “Fuck’s sake, Miller, shut up.”
Then he mutters something about why the hell we invited the rookie to our weekend away.
He knows why. We wouldn’t be on this celebration trip without him. Annoying as he is, we need Miller.
Luckily, the driver pulls up to the airport before we have to hear any more of Miller’s bullshit.
Getting on our flight is quick and relatively painless. We only get stopped for autographs twice when a few people recognize us as we make our way to our gate.
I’ve grown so accustomed to flying on chartered jets that sometimes I forget what it’s like to walk through an actual airport and be recognized. I don’t typically do much traveling in the offseason. I tend to stay home and hibernate. If I do leave North Carolina, the only place I ever go is back home to upstate New York. Everyone there has known me since I was a little kid, so none of them are impressed by my career.
When I climb on board, I see Miller casually stowing his luggage in the bin directly above Ryan as if he’s about to sit next to her. And because the kid apparently has balls the size of Texas, he does. He plops down like it’s no big deal.
My brows slam together when he begins shuffling through his carry-on, talking a mile a minute because that’s what Miller does. He doesn’t notice that Ryan’s not paying a lick of attention to anything he says.
She’s too busy staring at me, the corners of her mouth tilted up into a smile.
She thinks this is funny.
But I doubt she’ll find it funny when her new husband gets escorted off the plane for killing his teammate.
I step up in the aisle next to Miller and wait for him to realize I’m towering over him. It takes him far longer than I expect. When he does finally look up, his eyes are wide, and he realizes his mistake. It takes him .2 seconds to unclip his seat belt and shove to his feet.
“Uh, shit, my bad, Rhodes. I forgot you two were married for a second.”
His cheeks are flaming red as he scuttles across the aisle to sit next to Lowell, who just shakes his head at him.
I settle into my seat and then turn to Ryan, sending her a big toothy grin. Now she’s the one scowling as she turns away and focuses her attention out the window like she’s loving the view even though we’re still sitting on the tarmac.
The rest of the passengers file onto the plane, and after what feels like forever, we’re finally on the move. The flight attendants begin going through their regular routine. I tune it out, having heard it a million times before.
“Before we take off today, we would like to welcome two very special guests to our flight,” the perky voice says over the intercom.
Now that draws my attention, and warning bells start going off in my head. I glance over at Ryan, and she’s sitting there with wide eyes too.
Oh fuck.
“Please join us in extending a huge congratulations to Ryan Bell and Stanley Cup champion Adrian Rhodes on their marriage. Let’s give them a big round of applause.”
Everyone starts clapping, and I want to die.
I want to just sink into my seat and pull my cap lower over my face when people start turning around to look at us.
Ryan’s hand finds my thigh, and she digs her nails in deep. I look over to find her with another fake smile plastered across her face as she waves at everyone staring at us.
She’s so good at faking that smile it makes me wonder how often she practices.
“Smile,” she mutters out of the corner of her mouth, not once dropping her grin.
“Huh?”
She digs her nails in deeper. “Smile, you idiot. Look happy.”
Happy? The only thing that would make me happy right now is a stiff drink and for the earth to swallow me whole.
But we can’t always get what we want.
So instead, I smile and wave, pretending to be blissfully in love right along with her.
“Why aren’t they turning around?” she asks out of the corner of her mouth.
“No fucking clue, but I hate every second of this,” I say back, my cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so much.
“Dude, kiss her! That’s what they’re waiting for!” Miller says, shoving at my shoulder from across the aisle.
A few loud whoops go around, and I realize that is what they’re waiting for.
Because I don’t think I can possibly take another second of everyone staring at me, I slide my palm up Ryan’s face and drag her closer to me.
There’s no mistaking the angry fire blazing in her eyes.
“Rhodes…” she wa
rns quietly just before our lips touch.
I ignore the warning and press my lips to hers.
She inhales sharply when our mouths connect.
But, to my surprise, she doesn’t pull away.
She kisses me back.
As drunk as I was, I remember our kiss at the altar. How soft and pliable her lips were. How sweet she tasted, even though the woman is full of fire.
But that drunken kiss? That drunken kiss was nothing compared to this.
Her lips are just as soft, and the taste of her is still sweet. But this time something feels different.
We feel different.
Her fingernails dig into my thigh again, but this time for an entirely different reason as she hums with pleasure. I slide my hand into her hair, pulling her closer, slanting my mouth over hers just so.
Just as I’m about to deepen the kiss, she pulls away without warning, stealing my breath as she goes.
She sucks in sharp breaths, eyes wide as she stares at me with surprise.
She doesn’t have to tell me she felt it too. It’s clear by the look on her face that she did. The plane erupts around us again, everyone enjoying the show.
Blind Pass (Carolina Comets) Page 6
