Page 95 of Saddle Storm

I catch his exhale, holding a humbled grin while his face is on full display.

He doesn’t linger on it. Doesn’t soak it in like one would expect.

That’s not the suit he wants to be in.

Oh, but he looks so damn good in it. Dark, sharp, clean crisp lines, broad shoulders filling it like it was made for him. His hair styled in that strategically tousled way. Jaw set, composed.

“So what’s the story with you two?” Tess prods.

I glance at Max, since I’m not sure how ready I am for him to hear much of this. He’s sharing popcorn with Jackson and dumping both M&M bags into the mix, talking and laughing at something Levi is saying. “We’re old friends and . . . seeing where things go, I guess. It’s nothing serious,” I lie.

Tessa looks over accusingly, then turns away, narrowing her eyes. “Well, I’m glad to see him finally make better choices. Never know who’s going to be in this seat next,” she sighs. “But I’m glad it’s you tonight.” She rubs my hand and it’s almost intentionally condescending.

My stomach drops and I look around. Suddenly very aware of the very thing I chose to ignore when I first looked around. Girls—women—everywhere, wrapped in his jersey. His number. His name across their backs. Some standing already, phones out, taking pictures of where he stands.

Possession flares hot and irrational in my chest.

I spot him again, his eyes lock with mine instantly. Like they’ve been on me for a while. He gives me a small grin and it causes heads to turn my way.

I exhale.

Tessa leans in. “Now why don’t you go grab yourself a jersey and show these bitches you’re here to stay.”

I turn to Tessa, slow, and she winks at me. “I’ll save your seat.”

I bite my lower lip and smile. “I’ll be right back.”

She straightens. “And grab some more candy while you’re out there,” she calls after me.

Minutes later, I pull back into my seat, an oversized version of his jersey pulled over my sweater, still stiff and new. Max’s face lights up proudly when he sees me matching his jacket.

And he’s not the only one.

I don’t look right away, but I feel it. Awareness, like a hand closing around my spine. I lift my gaze to meet his, knowing he’s watching me.

And he’s no longer composed. Something dark and heated flashes across his face. His lips parted as those blue eyes dip down my frame deliberately, before lifting to my eyes again.

The crowd explodes and I’m loosely aware of the puck dropping.

But he’s not.

It’s like he’s forgotten where he is. Like the only thing keeping him rooted is the fact that he can’t cross the space between us.

The message is unmistakable. This jersey did something to him.

The uninterested, restless version of him from moments ago . . . is gone. In his place is someone proud, controlled, and who knows exactly what to do with all that excess energy.

I swallow, pulse thudding low and fast.

Because if that’s what watching me does to him . . . I can’t imagine what he’s going to do when the game’s over.

I feel Tessa lean into me as she watches Silas, muttering low. “That’s my girl.”

The noise and crowd is still thick after the game ends. The Denver Kings won and I can’t help but wish that Silas had something to do with it. Knowing him, he’s not feeling the victory tonight—at least not the way every bone in his body wants to.

The man I saw tonight isn’t the same man I see on the ranch. The one who drags a hand through his hair, staring out over the fields like he’s trying to figure out what to do next. How to fit in.

When he can leave.