25. Ellie

Ellie

I stood off to one side of the locker room door, trying to remain unobtrusive, unnoticed. A crowd of lucky, noisy fans mixed with the sports reporters waiting to get a photo and a quote from the hero―Grey Aldine. I, too, waited for him, but suspected he'd be celebrating with his team tonight. Not with me.

That's okay, it's part of his job.

At length, freshly showered, garbed in street clothes, a bandage over his nose, Grey stepped from the locker room. A few others emerged behind him for the impromptu press conference, one holding his hands over his head for quiet.

"We'll make a few comments now," the Coach announced, "but we'll be hosting a more formal news conference in an hour."

I absently wondered if I might sneak in to watch and listen. Then I saw press badges hanging from lanyards, and instantly quashed that idea. Grey glanced around and saw me.

While I smiled and offered a tiny wave, he kept his expression neutral. Still, I caught his swift nod and swifter wink. Pleased, I only half listened to the shouted questions, the camera flashes going off, Grey's answers as to his plans for the Stanley Cup.

"There's only one plan for the Cup," he said. "Win it."

Ragged cheers rose from the fans. Security surged forward when they sought to charge into the small circle that included Grey. The Coach, Grey and the other Vipers retreated into the locker room.

The disappointed fans relented, fell back, and dispersed under the orders of the big security dudes. The press reporters headed for the elevators, preparing their questions for the more formal press conference.

My cell buzzed.

Grey.

Smiling, I clicked his icon, his grinning face. "Congrats. You did it."

" W e did it, babe. The entire team. Look, I don't have much time. I just wanted to say I'm sorry I can't see you tonight."

"I didn't expect to see you. You have a job to do."

"Yeah." His sigh came through loud and clear. "I have this press conference, then a team celebration. Will you go to dinner with me tomorrow night?"

"A private celebration?"

"At the finest steakhouse in the city." I heard his grin in his voice. "And we'll be taking the limo."

I laughed. "Big spender."

"You know it. I'll be spending it on you."

"Maybe I'll let you."

"Maybe my ass. Look, I gotta go. I love you."

"Love you, too. Stay safe."

"The driver will take you home."

"I know. Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up, feeling giddy and stupid and over my head in love. Vermont's own hero, the man who carried the entire playoffs on his broad shoulders, loved moi . Me. He'll carry the team to victory in the Stanley Cup, I knew he would. All my fears and worries over who fathered my baby fell apart to crash on the cement floor. The question of whether I wanted Grey in my life seemed far away and unimportant.

His triumph was mine.

I tucked my phone in my pocket, and, under the interested gazes of the security guys, I walked in the fans' and reporters' wake. Up the elevator to the main floor, I worked my way through the feverish crowds to the main doors trying to avoid being bumped in my left shoulder.

The limo driver caught sight of me as I huddled in my jacket under the brilliant lights and bitter cold. He drove to the curb where I stood, parked, and got out. Though embarrassed by his solicitude, I waited until he rounded the big car and opened the rear door for me.

"Thank you," I said, sliding into leather comfort and blessed heat.

"Did he win, Miss?"

I grinned. "He sure did."

Chuckling, the chauffeur stepped back to his place behind the wheel. "Home, Miss?"

"Yes, please. And you'll be needed tomorrow night. Private celebration, you know."

In the rearview mirror, he tipped his cap. "I'm looking forward to it."

***

For the occasion, I bought a slinky black dress with slender spaghetti straps, black do-me heels and discarded my sling. My collarbone protested when I flexed my arm. Still, I had no intention of ruining the fine dress that clung to my figure by wearing a damn sling. Talk about an eyesore.

In the bathroom mirror, I studied my injury. My collarbone was still swollen, slightly shaded in old, yellowish bruising. A distinct knot showed the break, and, I guessed, always would. I hoped that this fancy place Grey planned to take me to had low lighting.

Freshly washed and brushed, my hair hung past my shoulders and chest. A touch of mascara and blush teased my face, accenting my cheekbones. I rarely wore makeup, but I guessed a playoff win was worth a bit of excess. Pursing my lips at my reflection, I added a faint pink lipstick to them.

I'd no sooner donned a long black wool coat, rarely worn, when Grey's sharp knock came at my door. Seizing my keys and purse, I unlocked it and jerked it open. In a swift flashback, I imagined Colton just beyond, grinning with malevolent intent.

My heart froze.

"Hi." Grey eyed me up and down, obviously pleased with what he saw. "You're stunning."

I'd never seen him in a black tie and dinner jacket before. He'd removed the bandage, but his broken nose looked raw and swollen. Still, he grinned widely, and his green eyes danced with pleasure. His fingers caressed the tiny bulge my dress could never hide.

"The three of us are going to have a wonderful dinner." Grey held his arm out to me. "Shall we?"

"After I lock up."

I locked my door, slid my keys into my purse, and slipped my arm through his. "Aren't you cold without a coat?"

"The sight of your beauty, my love, brings a fire to my heart."

I stared up. "Where's Grey Aldine? And who are you?"

He laughed. "I tend to wax poetic when I help win a playoff game."

"And how often does that happen?"

"This is the first."

Our chauffeur tipped his cap, smiling, as Grey escorted me to the limo. "Good evening, Miss."

"Good evening, Landry."

Grey assisted me into the limo's rear seat, then sat opposite me.

"There are drinks and wine, sir," Landry said before he shut the door. "Help yourself."

"I think I will."

Grey found a chilled bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. "Ah, nineteen-nineteen, what a great year that was."

As the chauffeur drove from my apartment's parking lot, Grey popped the cork. Champagne fizzled over his hand and dripped onto the leather seat. With a grin, he poured himself a glass without spilling a drop, and handed me a bottle of sparkling water.

"Here's to the Stanley Cup."

"To the Cup."

We both sipped our respective drinks, gazing into one another's eyes. Perhaps he saw the love I couldn't hide from him. I certainly noticed the love he felt for me gleaming in the lights of passing streetlamps.

Is tonight more than a celebration of a game win? Is this the night we fall in love all over again?

"Did Colton attend the game?" I asked, sipping again.

"Nuh-uh. We don't talk about him tonight." Grey smiled, but his eyes were hard. Glinting. "He's a taboo subject. Off limits. Tonight, there's only you and I."

"And Billy the Kid."

Grey laughed. "I like that. Billy the Kid."

"Until we know the sex and come up with a name, we'll call him Billy."

He nearly killed the bottle of champagne by the time Landry drove to a smooth halt in front of the priciest restaurant in all of Montpellier. It appeared with utmost regularity as the top social spot in the city's gossip columns. People went to this place to be seen, and hopefully be recognized.

My mouth dropped upon realizing where we were, the liveried valet opening the door for us with what almost appeared to be a bow.

"No way," I muttered, climbing out.

"Way. I told you this is a celebration."

"I hope you can afford it because I sure can't."

Grey took my hand, then kissed my palm. "I can afford it."

The ma?tre'd actually did bow as we approached him. As though Grey was a royal prince and he a servant. He accepted my coat with a smile and handed it to the person I assumed was the coat clerk.

"Welcome, Mr. Aldine. We've been expecting you. Please come this way."

My cheeks flushed hot as wealthy and bejeweled people stopped what they were doing―eating, drinking, talking―and stared as Grey and I passed among the candle-lit tables. Silence fell. Not even a fork clicked against a plate as we strode through the cream of the elite like royalty.

I tried to look nowhere save straight ahead as Grey marched on, his hand in mine, his aura that of the very prince I imagined him to be.

"Oh, my God," I muttered, my face a bright red, I was sure. "They're staring ."

"Ignore them," Grey murmured, smiling down at me.

"I can't."

"Sure you can. You're as good as they are."

Right. I'm a poverty-stricken freelancer who lives in a cheap apartment and counts every penny. They live in mansions and count millions . Sure. I'm as good as they are. Shit, I forgot my diamond necklace at home.

After seating us in a quiet corner, well away from the eyes, the ma?tre'd snapped his fingers to a waiter. With another bow, he left us to gaze at one another over the candle. Talk and clinks of forks resumed, yet I continued to feel eyes gazing our way, peering through the dim ambiance toward the once-again Vipers MVP.

"Relax," Grey murmured. "You're beautiful."

"Yeah. I'm also poor, pregnant, and not married. I think they saw all that." I ran my hand nervously, self-consciously, through the purple steak in my hair.

"They saw me with a gorgeous lady with the grace and poise of a supermodel."

"I wish."

Grey took my hand over the table. "Tonight, you're my lady. We're going to celebrate the win. We're also going to celebrate us. And celebrate Billy the Kid."

Chuckling, I squeezed his fingers. "All right. I'll do my best rich, supermodel impersonation. For you."

***

After we'd dined on expensive food, and Grey enjoyed plenty of expensive wine, Landry delivered us, the win, and each other, to Grey's house. I shivered under the biting wind while Grey tipped the chauffeur. I tripped up the steps to his front door, Grey's arm around me, and stumbled, laughing, into his house.

He didn't turn on any lights.

Picking me up in his strong, powerful arms, he carried me up the stairs to his bedroom. In my exhausted state, I did my best to undress, anticipating a session of long, sweet, lovemaking. Giggling, I slipped under the covers as Grey, swearing a blue streak, fought to get his shoes off.

"Come to bed, lover," I intoned, my voice husky.

"I'm trying."

At last, he crawled into bed beside me, deliciously naked, his cock hard against my hand. Grey nuzzled my throat, kissing me, his hand on my breasts. My head swam with love, with lust, with a hunger that didn't require food to satisfy me.

Grey's body relaxed. His cheek on my shoulder, he snored through his broken nose.

I snuggled against him, drowsing, finding a comfortable and secure place for my left arm.

Then drifted to sleep.

***

Bright sunlight and a sharp voice roused me from my deep and luxurious slumber.

"What the fuck is this?" someone shouted.

Bleary, I lifted my head to blink at Colton's shocked and furious face.