“Attagirl,” he praises, and I’m not ashamed to admit that in front of twenty thousand people, I grow a little wet.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, almost sure that he won’t hear me.
“Taking my girlfriend for a spin. It’s standard practice when she wears her man’s jersey for the first time.”
Circling me, Emmett takes my hands in his and then glides backward, pulling me along with him.
At first, my eyes are everywhere, and I wonder what the hell people must be thinking or even saying about a girl they’ve never seen before, holding hands with their golden-boy defenseman.
But as we approach center ice and the players and their partners move to one side for us, all the noise fades to nothing but a low hum, Emmett’s bright smile capturing all of my attention.
“Are we doing a lap of honor?” I tease.
“Do you want to?”
I shake my head quickly. “Absolutely not. There are way better—and safer—ways to announce our relationship to the world.”
Reaching the center of the rink, Emmett brings us both to a stop.
Thank God.
In his skates, he towers over me, tipping my chin up to look at him.
“What if I just kissed you right here? Would that be a better way to reveal the woman I love?”
My knees grow weak. “I’ve had worse introductions.”
Hands loop around my ass, and I just about wrap my legs around his hockey padding, crossing my feet over at the ankles.
“Want to know something?” I ask.
He brushes his lips over mine, the low murmur of our surroundings rising a few decibels louder. Still, it isn’t enough to drown out this moment.
“Tell me,” he replies, closing his eyes at the feeling of my fingers sifting through his damp hair.
I bring my lips closer to his ear. “Hockey gear smells so unbelievably bad.”
He pulls me into his body. “Are you trying to say that I smell bad, Bill? You already think that I’m old as shit.”
Smirking like a brat, I bury my face into the crook of his neck. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He releases a long sigh. “Well, that’s a crying fucking shame. Here I was, thinking that you loved every part of me until the end of time.”
When I lift my head to take in the arena, all of Emmett’s teammates are arranged in a perfect circle around us, along with their family members.
I pull back, hands wrapped around his neck. “Em, what’s going on?”
Sliding me down his body, Emmett’s hands grip my hips tighter, keeping me steady while I find my footing back on the ice.
Like a freaking swan, Darcy slides up alongside Emmett, a face full of delight when she passes something to him.
“Em,” I repeat, “what are you doing?”
He clears his throat, whatever Darcy just handed to him hidden inside a tight fist. “Adding some more bricks as we build our lives together.”
When my eyes fall to his hand, Emmett opens his fingers. A small powder-blue box rests in his palm.
My breath catches in my throat, heart racing a million beats per minute.
