Page 113 of Golden Goal

Epilogue

Two and a Half Months Later—Becca

“All set, sweetheart?” Holt asks as I step out of the bathroom of our hotel room in Vegas.

The last game of the season was earlier this afternoon, and since the Storm aren’t playoff bound, the team is staying two extra nights here.

“Woah.” He runs a hand down his face, his mouth falling open. “Gorgeous. Absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

I beam at him, making a mental note to thank Sutton for making me buy this little black dress when we went shopping a few weeks ago.

I almost didn’t get it because it fits me tighter and shorter than what I’m normally comfortable with wearing, but now that I’m seeing the expression on Holt’s face, I know I made an excellent decision.

“Looking good yourself,” I tell him.

His light-blue button-down is open at the collar, a black suit jacket over it paired with matching black dress pants.

He stands up and stalks over to me. “Maybe we should stay in tonight. You look tastier than anything the restaurant might have.”

I shake my head. “We can’t. We’re celebrating Hadley’s birthday. We have to go.”

He blows out a breath. “I know. We’ll come back here right after then.”

He steps closer and presses his lips to mine. I kiss him back before pulling away so I can meet his eyes.

“Won’t Hadley be disappointed we’re bailing after dinner?”

“She’ll understand. I’ll make it up to her.”

I chuckle, slipping my hand into his and tugging on it. “Whatever you say. We should go before we’re late.”

“Okay, okay.”

He lets me lead him out the door and to the elevators. Downstairs, we find the rest of the group waiting for us.

“Holty. Becca. There you are,” Wes says. “We thought maybe you weren’t going to join us.” He bounces his eyebrows.

“Weston,” Holt warns.

Wes laughs, turning and slinging his arm around Hadley. “Time for some birthday shenanigans.”

Holt growls, and I squeeze his hand. He glances over at me, and I wink at him.

“You know he’s only doing it to wind you both up.” I tip my chin toward Hadley, who has moved out of Wes’s embrace and is walking, arms linked, with Ansley and Sutton.

“I know,” he mutters. “Doesn’t make it any better.”

We walk the short distance through the hotel lobby and the casino until we get to Ray’s Steakhouse. Holt made reservations, so we’re seated quickly in one of the private back rooms.

Dinner is a blur of good food, too much wine for everyone but me, and laughter. It’s nice to be part of something. Part of a family again.

“Ready?” Holt asks after we’ve finished dinner and dessert a few hours later.

He pushes his chair back, stands, and pulls on his suit jacket. He holds out his hand to me.

“Yeah.” I stand, taking his hand. I turn to face the rest of the table. “We’re going to head back to our room.”