She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. I knew that look—half hope, half fear. I wanted to erase the second half, make her see how this for what it was, how serious I was about us. Having her here all weekend, dancing with her… it had rewired something. I wanted the next weekend too, and every weekend after that.
I brushed a thumb along her jaw, feeling her pulse quicken under my hand.
“Mel,” I said quietly. “The bike’s risky, sure. But you…” I searched her face. “You’re the one thing I don’t want to risk losing.”
Her breath caught, eyes softening as if she finally understood. She tightened her fingers around mine. “I don’t want to lose you either.”
I kissed her, a slow, steady press, letting her feel how much my action meant more than my declaration. She melted in, arms looped behind my neck.
The kiss deepened, and those breathy sounds started up, the same ones from round one this morning. They hooked under my ribs and pulled, and I let them. If she forgot we were standing under the stars, fine by me. Those soft sounds had become my personal victory anthem.
I slid my hands along her back, slowly rubbing, pulling her closer. Her mouth parted beneath mine, eager now. I liked that she let go and felt this too. I wanted her to trust me in everything.
Her fingers flexed behind my neck, curling in my hair, as her body swayed, trusting me to hold her. I loved when she forgot to be composed, when she stopped calculating and simply felt. Islowed the kiss, easing off so we could breathe. Her lips chased mine on instinct, and I smiled against her mouth.
“You keep making those noises, Mel,” I murmured, “I’m going to start thinking you like my house key plan a little too much.”
She opened her eyes. “You really know how to mess with my heart.”
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever messed with.” I pressed one more kiss to her flushed mouth, then her cheek, then the spot below her ear. Her pulse fluttered beneath my lips, making my heart beat a little faster.
“I don’t want tonight to end,” I murmured.
She nudged her nose against mine. “Same. But we both have to work in a few hours.”
I kissed her again. Quick this time, but still warm.
Then I took her hand, and we stepped inside. I helped her grab her things, still wrapped in the bubble of confession between us. Tomorrow could come fast—but tonight, we’d finally caught up to what had been brewing for weeks.
The next day was Monday.
I walked into Tahoe West HQ before eight, a well needed coffee cup in hand. The building didn’t show it, but it had been the storm’s eye for seven months—shootouts, overtimes, and the win that punched our ticket to the Stanley Cup Final.
Felix Wilson was waiting upstairs in his office. He stood when I walked in, which was rare. Saturday’s win got me into his exclusive club.
“Murphy,” he said, grinning as he gestured to the chair across from him. “Hell of a win. You earned that one.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the seat. “The guys gave me something worth earning.”
“Your team’s not only playing well; they’re believing in each other. That comes from the top.”
I inclined my head, accepting the compliment.
He leaned back, studying me for a beat. “This is more than a win, you know. Cup Final, first in franchise history. You’ve got the locker room buzzing, the town on fire, and the investors smiling. This is what we built for.”
“The climb’s not finished.”
“No,” he said, “but we’re close.”
I nodded.
His gaze held mine. “When the last coach went down three years ago, the board wasn’t sure a thirty-something could carry this weight. But you’ve proven it, season after season.”
“I wasn’t about to let you down then, and I’m not about to now.”
Felix’s grin sharpened. “Good. The climb is steeper from here. Are you ready?”
“I was ready yesterday.”
