Because I am. I’ve been falling for her for a long time. I’m also sure Ifell.Pretty sure I’ve known it on some cellular level since the night she came to my game right before the holidays—when I felt relaxed on the ice, steady even, thanks to her. When I stopped fighting the way I felt. When I accepted that these feelings weren’t going away. But I’m not going to tell him before I tell her. And I’m not going to tell her until the right moment.
For now, I meet Theo’s steely eyes and say, “I’m crazy about your sister, and I wanted you to know we’re going to start dating. For real.”
He drops the mug of coffee he’s holding.
The mug crashes to the wood floor, hot coffee splattering everywhere, along with the handle. Theo doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are locked on me, wide, furious—or maybe just stunned. “You’rewhat?”
Damn, that felt good to get off my chest. I roll my shoulders and practically strut to the chair opposite his desk. I stop though. The polite thing to do would be to help clean up.
I head to the men’s room, grab some compostable paper towels, and return to wipe up the coffee on the hardwood.
He takes some too, and we clean together. He scrubs harder than anyone needs to, breathing out with each push of the towel.
“Did you just…did you seriously tell me you’re dating my sister in the same tone you’d use to ask me for extra tickets to a game?”
“I did,” I say, feeling a thousand times lighter.
He shakes his head. “Back this up. Try again. Tell me something that doesn’t end with me wanting to aim darts at your picture.”
“Want me to pick you up some new darts? Game store’s right by the rink.”
He exhales heavily. “And she’s…into you?” He sounds like he can’t quite believe it.
A small laugh escapes me. The floor’s clean enough now so I rise, toss the towels in the compost bin, then nod. “She is. And I’m…just fucking besotted.”
He blinks. “Fucking besotted? Are you a wordsmith today? From your metaphors to this?”
Maybe the love letters are rubbing off on me. “I guess I am.”
“I…” he begins, but he can’t seem to form words. He’s never speechless.
So I take the reins. “Listen, I get that you don’t like her exes. I don’t either. I get that you’re protective. I am too. I also understand that you don’t want her to be hurt. I don’t either. And you should know I’m going to treat her like a queen.”
He doesn’t need to know I’ve already been doing that.
“When did this start?” he asks.
And that’s also something I won’t answer entirely. But I can be honest when I say, “I’ve been interested in her since I met her. You might even say she’s the one who got away.”
He runs a hand through his hair, blows out a breath. “I’ll need an addendum to your contract. A waiver signed by Mabel saying she won’t sue when this ends badly.”
“It won’t end badly.”
He stares hard at me. His voice is steely now. “If you break her heart, you’re dead to me.”
And that’s fair. I nod. “I hear you.”
He pins me with a hard-edged stare. “I mean it. I don’t want to see her hurt. I don’t want to see her cry. I don’t want to see you talking shit about her ever.”
I hold up a hand. “You have my word.”
“It’s not that you aren’t a good man, but if by chance you do any of those things, we’re done.” Then he smirks. “And I will find a way to trade you, or bench you, or make sure you never get any ice time. I will call up a young guy and tell them to give him ice time right away.”
I love this guy. He has to find a way to get the last word.
But I’m not worried. I know what I want. And it’s not simply to date her. It’s to win her heart. So all those threats—they don’t mean a thing because I won’t hurt her.
“Heard,” I say, then extend a hand.
