Page 56 of Slapshot Bride

She's booked a hotel for the rest of her stay. She never says why, but I have a feeling my presence played at least a small role in that decision.

I watch from the window as they say goodbye. She kisses him on the cheek and holds his face in both hands for a second, and says something I don’t hear. He nods. She gets in the car, and it pulls away.

He stands in the driveway for a long beat after she's gone.

Then he comes back inside.

He stops in the doorway of the kitchen. His bag is still on his shoulder. He has not taken his shoes off. He just looks at me.

“My mother likes you.”

“I like her too.”

“See? You’re already collecting people,” he says with a grin.

I roll my eyes and shake my head.

“Give me a moment to shower, and we’ll find an activity to keep you busy for the day, yeah?”

“Okay.”

He stands there for a minute longer, as though he’s contemplating his next move. He eventually steps towards me. I feel the itch to move away. Put distance between us.

He doesn’t touch me, but he’s close. So close that I smell his cologne mixed with the rink.

“Thank you for making her smile.” His lips land on my cheek next, and before I can process it, he’s gone.

And my heart? It freaking skips.

Oh Riley, you’ve got a long way to go, and this man, he’s not going to make it easy.

11

EASTON

The Price of One Night

My best friend Mason picks the place.

He always does.

It’s a small bar on a side street in West Hollywood, the kind that doesn't advertise, with a black door and a single sconce above it that you would miss if you were not looking for it.

Inside it's dim and warm and full of low conversation. No cameras. No phones held up. The bartender doesn't look up when I walk in, which is the whole point.

Mason is already at the back booth.

He stands when he sees me. He hugs me the way he always does, three solid claps to the back, and pulls away to look at me properly.

“You look like garbage,” he says with a grin.

“It’s nice to see you too.”

He laughs, and we sit.

“Also.” He picks up the beer he’s been nursing before I walked in. “If we ever go this long without conversation again, the next bar I pick will be the kind with karaoke.”

“You wouldn’t.”