He kisses my cheek and steps away.
Pierce doesn’t join me at the table. He backs away, leaning against the wall. He crosses his arms and rubs his nose as he stares out on the ice.
Chapter forty-one
PIERCE
Thetapeacrossmynose is driving me fucking insane. With one quick rip that makes my eyes water, I peel it off and shove it in my pocket. The doctor said to keep it on for another week, but the swelling is almost gone.
Alexei’s box is packed with suits and diamonds, all of them watching the ice as the teams skate out for warm-ups. I stay against the wall where I belong, arms crossed, tracking Beckett’s number as he circles the net below.
And not on Ash. Totally not watching her in those jeans that look painted on and that shirt that takes all my willpower not to stare at. Nope. I’m watching the game.
My nostrils flare as I take a deep breath. It’s like emerging from underwater and taking my first breath. Everything is sharper, clearer. I sigh. It smells sweet, like a warm summer day. Ash is sitting four feet away. I lean toward her, just a little.
Ash. It’s Ash’s scent. Peaches. But not the fake stuff they put into candy or when they’re baked into a pie. Those fancy flat little donut peaches that Liam gets at that fancy supermarket I wouldn’t dare shop in. I’m just a poor trailer trash kid who has no right to a four-dollar peach. No right to a girl with a scent like that. Warm and fresh and real. No wonder Beckett is obsessed with her. I inhale deeper, greedy for it, then catch myself.
Fuck.
I blink rapidly and try to focus on the ice below us. Her scent is like a physical thing; it wraps around me until it’s the only thing that exists. My skin prickles everywhere like I just touched a live wire.
I scan the room for Liam. He’s the only one who can make this make sense. Liam works the room like he was born for this shit. Three alphas in thousand-dollar suits laugh at whatever he’s saying, their faces transformed by the charm he can turn on like a faucet. The only room I can work would be filled with degenerates drinking warm tap beer. Liam makes it look effortless. I make it look like I’m contemplating homicide, which is why I’m banished to the shadows at these things.
The puck drops, and the crowd below us roars. The sound vibrates through the glass, through the floor, through my chest competing with Ash’s scent that now seems to own that space.
But then Ash shifts in her seat, tucking her hair behind her ear, and my attention snaps back to her like a rubber band. She looks uncomfortable as hell, perched on that stool in clothes that seem borrowed. The expensive omegas dotted around the room look like plastic decorations, fake dolls with fake tits next to her. Ash is wild and untamed even in her designer jeans.
She grabs her drink and takes a nervous sip. Her fingers worry at the cocktail napkin, shredding it bit by bit. When she sets the glass down, her hands shake slightly. I shouldn’t notice these things. I shouldn’t be cataloging every micro-expression on her face.
I shouldn’t want to cross the room, grab her by the wrist, and drag her somewhere quiet where I can bury my face in her neck and breathe her in until the rest of the world disappears. My dick shouldn’t be getting hard watching her nervously lick her lips.
A sleek alpha in a navy suit slides into the empty seat beside her. I recognize him vaguely as some real estate developer who sponsors team events. His smile is too wide, too white. I can’t hear what he’s saying over the crowd noise, but I see Ash stiffen, her shoulders drawing up toward her ears.
“Enjoying the view?”
I nearly jump out of my skin. Liam has materialized at my side, two whiskeys in hand. He offers me one, which I take without looking away from Ash.
“Game’s going like shit,” I say, knocking back half the drink in one swallow.
“That’s not what you’re watching.” His voice is mild, but there’s an edge to it. Liam’s eyes narrow slightly. “Your nose is better?”
“Getting there.”
He takes a careful sip of his drink, watching me over the rim.
Something shifts in Liam’s expression, something like recognition, then calculation. His gaze slides to Ash, then back to me. “Interesting.”
The alpha in the suit puts his hand on Ash’s knee. My glass creaks in my grip.
“Easy,” Liam murmurs.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re going to shatter that glass.”
I set it down on a nearby table with exaggerated care. “Better?”
“Much.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
