"Thanks for today," I say finally. "The skating, the team thing, all of it."
"Thanks for coming. I know it's not your usual scene."
"Maybe it should be." The words surprise me as much as him. "I had fun. Real fun, not 'this will be great content' fun."
He's quiet, and I can feel him looking at me in the darkness. "Piper, about whatever Jax may have said?—"
"He warned me not to break your heart," I interrupt. "Which is ridiculous because we have rules and boundaries and this is supposed to be?—"
"Yeah." His voice is rough. "Supposed to be."
Neither of us speaks. The truck's engine ticks as it cools.
I should get out. Should go inside, maintain the boundaries, keep this professional.
Instead, I say, "Three more games."
His hand finds mine in the darkness between us, fingers threading through mine. "Three more games," he agrees. Then he lifts my hand and presses his lips to my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine.
The warmth of his mouth against my skin sends heat racing up my arm, settling in my chest. My pulse hammers in my throat.
"And then we figure out what's real," I say quietly.
"If anything is," he murmurs.
I finally look at him, and even in the darkness, I can see the same confusion I feel reflected in his eyes. "Ryder, I?—"
My phone buzzes. A notification. Another brand deal email, probably. Or more people commenting on Chad's engagement. The real world, interrupting.
"I should go," I say.
"Yeah."
But no one breaks the silence.
Finally, I force myself to open the door and step out. I'm halfway to my cabin when he calls my name.
"Yeah?"
"For what it's worth—I'm really glad you came tonight."
I don't trust myself to respond, so I just wave and slip inside.
The door clicks shut behind me, and I lean back against it, eyes closed. My hand still tingles where his lips touched my skin. My pulse hasn't settled. The warmth in my chest from his smile, his touch, the way he looked at me when he lifted my hand to his mouth—none of it feels fake.
Three more games. We agreed to figure it out after three more games.
But standing here in the darkness of my cabin, my rental car parked twenty feet from his truck, his presence so close I can practically feel it through the walls—I'm terrified we've already gone completely off the rails.
This was supposed to be simple. Clear boundaries. Mutually beneficial.
Nothing about tonight felt simple.
Chapter 12
Ryder
After Piper left my cabin, I needed to do something productive, so I went to the firehouse to work on the equipment. The alarm goes off at two in the morning, which is never good. Fire calls in January mean someone's wood stove malfunctioned or their space heater decided to commit arson. Either way, at minus twenty-five degrees, a structure fire becomes a race against hypothermia as much as the flames.
