I didn’t answer immediately. I let him take it in. The same obnoxious shade of blue. The same oversized print of Pampi’s face.
His mouth fell open. “You wore it.”
He stared at me like I’d just handed him the world.
And for the first time since we’d walked into the arena that morning, he stopped watching at the ring and started looking at me instead.
The change was quiet but unmistakable. No exaggerated reaction, just the slow widening of his pupils, the tension settling into his shoulders, his gaze lingering with intent. I knew that look.
Before it could turn into something public and deeply inconvenient, I buttoned my jacket back up.
Chris made a soft, wounded noise. I ignored it.
“Of course I wore it,” I said, as if this had been inevitable. “Custom printing can’t have been cheap. Especially for such small quantities.”
He blinked. “Small quantities?”
“If you only ordered two,” I clarified. “Per-unit costs go up. Bulk runs are more economical.”
He leaned in, one hand sliding to the back of my neck, fingers warm against the nape. He pressed a quick kiss to my temple.
“I had three made,” he said smugly.
I paused. “Three.”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed lightly against my skin. “Tony came with me. He wanted one too.”
I glanced out across the arena almost reflexively. My attention snagged on a familiar broad-shouldered figure two sections down.
For a second, I thought I was imagining it, but it was the same blue shirt in the same shade.
Tony must have really had bonded with that ridiculous dog the day he’d been stuck watching her while Chris and I chased Marion across half the hotel.
Chris followed my line of sight and grinned. “See? I’m starting a movement.”
“God help us.”
His fingers were still at my nape making slow, unhurried circles now.
That spot had become a recent fixation of his. At first, it had been teasing. Light touches. Testing boundaries. I’d found it mildly ticklish and deeply unnecessary.
Lately, it felt different. Every time his thumb pressed just below my hairline, warmth ran down my spine.
My wolf reacted without thinking, a quiet thrum beneath my ribs. He hadn’t marked me yet, but my body responded like he had.
I shifted closer, pretending to adjust my seat. Chris’s hand settled more comfortably at the back of my neck, his palm broad and steady.
“So,” he said softly, brushing another brief kiss just below my ear. “Have you thought about what I asked?”
My wolf leaned into him. I kept my expression neutral.
“Thought about what?”
His thumb pressed again, deliberate this time, and I felt the answering pull all the way down to my bones.
He didn’t answer my question right away. Instead, his thumb traced a slow line along the back of my neck, thoughtful.
“Next year,” he said finally. “If we came back. For real. You, me, and Pampi.”
