Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Hudson

My long strides devoured the sidewalk from the arena to Scrimmage's, leading a small group of teammates like the Pied Piper. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins from my shutout game, and not even the early April chill could cool me down. A few straggling fans gave way before me, sending cheers our way.

Beck added a burst of speed and caught up. "Where's the fire, man?"

"Whitney's waiting for me." And I couldn't wait to celebrate with her. My heart raced even faster.

"And Hope is waiting for me, but you don't see me sprinting. Well, except to catch up with a crazy person."

"I'm not crazy. I'm just…"

"A newlywed," he said, as if he were saying an asshole . He shook his head.

"Hey! No need to insult me. It's not like—" I bit off the sentence. Holy shit. I had to watch what I said.

"It's not like what?" He cocked his head.

"It's not like…you're not crazy for Hope. "

He grinned like a big goof, and I punched him playfully on the shoulder.

He pretended to stumble and grumbled, "Dickwad," without rancor.

I reached the door of the sports bar and yanked it open. The rowdy din of cheering, clapping, and raised voices greeted me, along with the yeasty scent of beer and the savory aromas of charbroiled burgers and spicy hot wings. As we waded through the throng, I waved to the crowd and smacked some palms. The hostess gestured me through to the back patio.

I searched the smattering of early-arriving teammates, wives and girlfriends, and a few guests. A beautiful face wearing dark, oversized spectacles caught my eye. A jersey with my number on it hung from her slender frame, and a possessiveness roared to life inside me. She laughed at something Hope said, and I grinned.

Whitney's gaze strayed to the doorway. She beamed at me, rushed through the crowd, and launched herself into my arms with such force that I fell back a step. "Congratulations on your shutout. In a playoff game!" Her voice was thick with pride as she stood on her tiptoes and smacked a noisy kiss on my lips.

Beck shook his head. "Newlyweds."

If he only knew that this was about as much affection as we enjoyed. But I would take advantage of her initiative. I lifted her off her feet and covered her pliant mouth with mine. She responded by opening to me, and I deepened the kiss. My tongue slid over hers, and my groin tightened.

"Take her home, Romeo," Beck growled, and left us to our privacy.

I broke the kiss and lowered Whitney to her feet, keeping my arms wrapped around her. "That was a nice welcome." And the emotion felt genuine, not a public display to sell our relationship to others. Heat filled my chest as I allowed myself to bask in her affection without shutting her out.

Without overthinking my motivation, I lowered the guard around my heart. Just for the night.

"I texted Gramps. He congratulated me on the win and said you took good care of him."

She shrugged. "He's no problem. I'm growing fond of that old grump." Her mouth tipped up at the corners.

"Well, thank you. It eases my mind to know you've got him." I dropped my arms and took her hand. "Let's join the others." I led her to a group comprising Beck, Hope, Chase, Emily, Luc, and Brynn. Derek had gone home with Avery because his son, Xavier, was suffering from a cold. Derek's life had imploded when he lost the captaincy, but fatherhood—and his relationship with Avery—righted his world. I was happy for him.

A chorus of congratulations from the girlfriends met me.

Beck clutched his chest, an exaggerated pout on his face. "Hey, it was a team effort."

Hope stood on her tiptoes, planted a kiss on his cheek, and patted his back. "Good goal, honey."

He sent a shit-eating grin my way, and I rolled my eyes.

Parker came by for our orders. "I'll take a light beer, and Whitney will have—" I raised an eyebrow in her direction. "A virgin mojito?"

"Ooh. That sounds yummy." Her stomach growled, audible even above the classic rock pumping out of the speakers stationed around the patio.

"And an order each of chicken and beef quesadillas with chips and salsa."

"I hope some of that is for me." Her eyes sparkled in the light of the Edison bulbs above us.

"You know it, Taco Bell girl. "

She mischievously shoved her shoulder into my side, and I chuckled.

We found a high-top and sat down to wait for our food. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine, taking the opportunity to indulge in some PDA. Her hand trembled, and I frowned. "Are you okay? Did you take your medicine?"

"I'm fine. Just a little low blood sugar. And yes, I took my med. A full dose."

"That's good to hear. But you need to eat." I craned my head, searching the room. "Where's Parker?" I rose from my seat to hunt her down and expedite our order.

Whitney squeezed my hand and drew me back to my stool. "I'll be okay." She lifted her gaze. "See? Here she comes now."

Parker delivered our food and drinks with a chipper smile. "Can I get you anything else?"

"We're good, thanks." Parker passed Bowen as she left our table, and he leaned to the side to watch her walk away. Interesting .

I nodded toward Whitney's sugary drink. "Drink up. It will help."

She sipped and hummed her appreciation. I tore off a piece of chicken quesadilla, dipped it in the sides of sour cream and guacamole, and fed it to her. She licked a stray dab of sour cream off her lips and moaned, the sensual sound arrowing straight to my dick.

After a few more sips and bites, Whitney sighed contentedly and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Better?"

"Much." She smiled softly.

"Is low blood sugar a trigger for your seizures?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll have to be more careful. I should have had a snack at the game. "

"Good idea."

We decimated the rest of the food while catching up. Our conversation flowed freely and easily, even though we'd chatted that morning during breakfast. We compared our childhoods. Hockey practices and games dominated my life, with little time for anything else. Whitney's earliest memories included her father reading aloud The Night Before Christmas every Christmas Eve until she reached her teen years.

The music changed to a slow song, and I held out my hand. "Dance with me?"

She searched the patio. Leaning forward, she kept her voice low. "No one else is dancing."

"So?" I stood, took her into my arms, and she laid her head against my chest. I held her tight as we swayed to the slow beat, our bodies heating. I tipped her head up with a finger and gazed into her warm brown eyes, her pupils blown. Lowering my head?—

"Newlyweds," Beck called out, teasing.

I held her gaze, unfocused with desire. "Let's get out of here."