Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Jordy

Rushing out of the elevator and into my penthouse, I throw my suit jacket over the back of the sofa and slacken off my tie, happy that Lola is already here.

I’m buzzing after the game.

We smashed it tonight. Every pass, every goal, every player on the ice killed it out there. We skated hard and played harder.

It’s been the most satisfying win this season and we might have a chance of taking the Stanley Cup again.

Fuck, what a thrill.

I’m amped up and ready to spend the night with my girl… nope, not my girl. Lola.

Fuck.

I genuinely thought I could put my feelings aside and simply be happy spending time with her. Maybe part of me secretly hoped it would develop into something, even when I knew it couldn’t.

I take a moment to take Lola’s silhouette in. The way she’s leaning against the window accentuates the curve of her hips and the slight swell of her boobs. She looks good enough to eat. Which I plan on doing.

She’s sipping what looks like champagne from a glass flute and is still wearing my jersey. I make my way to her across the vast room. An image of me fucking her while she’s wearing my jersey plays out in my head.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, her voice tinged with sadness.

My excitement is quickly replaced with worry. You could puncture the heavy mood surrounding her with a pin.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask.

Lifting another glass of champagne off the console table, she hands it to me. “I have something I want to say before the clock strikes midnight.”

I check the time. That’s less than an hour away. Media interviews were complete bullshit tonight and took way longer than was necessary.

She worries me even more when she says, “This way you can decide for yourself if you want to continue this arrangement we have, Jordy.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I want to clear a couple of things up.”

“Only if you’re sure,” I agree.

“I overheard your dad asking about me.”

Oh shit.

“I’m going to give you the facts in the best way I can.”

“Take your time.” My heart is racing faster than a Formula One car, desperate for her to tell me everything, but I won’t rush her.

“I am Ritchie Ramsay’s daughter. I knew that your dad knew my dad.” She takes a sip of her champagne as if administering some much-needed liquid courage and licks her lips before she continues, “He came to his funeral. My dad was a well-respected member of the Chamber of Commerce, which I know your father is the president of. My dad also knew Marcus Edwards. That’s how Marcus knows me.” Breathing heavy, she sighs as if the emotion is taking its toll. “I am not out to get anyone. I’m not doing anything untoward or illegal. I am just a girl who wanted to uncover the truth, which Marcus and Kali have helped me to do.”

Shit. What the hell is she about to tell me? I hope she doesn’t end things between us. Just the thought of not seeing her makes my palms sweaty.

“Marcus is letting me work for the Eagles, which I love.” Her eyes sparkle with delight. “The businesses I inherited from my father don’t light me up in the same way as being Wade’s assistant does. Maybe that’s a stupid thing to say, I don’t know, but I studied business at Harvard because my father always expected me to work for the family business, which I did willingly. But hospitality isn’t very exciting.” With her shoulders hunched, I can tell it’s a touchy subject. “Doing what you love is different than doing what you fall into or are forced to do.” Clearing her throat, she continues, “I admire you for going after what you want, regardless of what your mom expected of you. You were meant to play hockey, Jordy. And paint.”

A billion questions bounce around my head like popcorn kernels heating up in a microwave. She went to Harvard? Holy shit . She’s book smart and beautiful. She’s the whole fucking package.

“You like being Wade’s assistant?” is the first question of many I want to ask.

She nods excitedly. “The thrill of the games, the lead up to them, liaising with the media, organizing his wardrobe, shopping for him, arranging his travel, coordinating his fitness schedule and nutrition plans, reading through his fan mail and responding to it. It’s exciting. All of it.”

Hell, she really does love working for the grumpy fucker.

“But.” Stalling, she takes a long-exaggerated sip of the pale gold alcohol. “I am only there until the end of the season. And that’s the truth.” She twirls the stem of the champagne flute between her fingers before she places it on the console. “Depending on what happens, I might decide to sell everything and move away or, if it all works out the way I hope it does, then I’ll be staying and will give my father’s businesses a fair shot and make them better than before. I want to make him proud. I don’t think I’ve done a good job of that yet.”

I place my champagne flute next to hers, now more confused than ever.

Moving one step closer to me, she cups my face and smiles up; her dimples making their appearance. “What I’m telling you is that Marcus knows I’m credible and everything I am doing is for a reason, has a purpose, and is to protect someone, but the timing is everything.”

“Protect someone? Is it Wade?”

“I can’t tell you who it is. And it’s not just one person. There are other people to consider.”

One of them is Wade. I know it is. The way she takes care of him is both gentle and unwavering, like she’s pouring her whole heart into every little thing she does for him.

Her thumb brushes my cheek before she moves her hand to rest on my pec. “I overheard you with your dad saying that you would like to know why I was working for the Eagles when I’m the director of my own company,” she says, shaking her head, “but I can’t tell you any more than I have already.”

There are other people to consider.

She has a good heart, and I have complete faith in her.

I bow my head and capture her lips with mine. When she parts them, I slip my tongue between and get the first taste of the refreshing floral champagne she’s been drinking. “Thank you for telling me a little bit more,” I mutter between kisses that quickly become heated.

“I have something else to tell you, Jordan.”

I jerk back, breaking our connection. What now?

“I think I might be catching feelings.” She blinks, her voice shaky as if she’s worried about confessing how she feels about me.

Oh.

Oh, hell.

Hell, yeah.

“For you,” she clarifies as if I didn’t already know.

Gnawing at the side of her mouth, she’s oblivious to the crazy backflips my heart is performing.

“I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue this arrangement we have, Jordy.”

She’s crazy if she thinks I’m ending things with her.

“You’re catching feelings for me?” I ask, the words falling out of my mouth with excitement.

Her face flushes, deepening to dark crimson. “Caught feelings for you, present tense.” Brows hunching together, I can tell she is confused because she’s right. This wasn’t part of the plan, but I’m totally here for it. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s confusing.”

It’s fucking incredible is what it is.

I place my knuckle under her chin and touch her plump bottom lip with my thumb. “I’m not confused, and I don’t want to end this. I know how I feel about you.”

“How do you feel?” she whispers so quietly I can barely hear her.

“I feel everything, everywhere. Especially here.” I point to my heart. She’s penetrated it and settled in like she’s always lived there.

She gives a small, dismissive shake of her head. “We weren’t supposed to catch feelings.”

“And yet, we have.”