Page 106 of Slapshot Bride

Wyatt makes a noise of pure betrayal.

“For the cameras?” Wyatt asks, putting on a shocked expression. “I’m watching a man crumble in real time.”

“Get lost.”

“So… is that a yes?” Wyatt taunts.

“Come on, you deserve to celebrate the win. We deserve to celebrate it.” Riley says, and I’m sold on it.

“We’ll meet you there.”

“Awesome! I could kiss…” Wyatt starts saying, but the frown on my face stops him. “Oops, forget I said that. But love that you’ve got our boy in check. See you.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

“You really want to be in a noisy bar? Didn’t peg you for a party animal.” I tease Riley, leading her toward the car.

“Let’s say, I’m a lot of things that you don’t know yet, Mr. Blake,” She winks at me and rounds to the passenger seat, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

I watch every step and see how slender her hips sway in those low-rise jeans, and all I want to do is hook my fingers on the belt loops, pull her against me, and kiss her senseless right there. The audience be fucked.

I get into the car after her, and minutes later, we’re tailing the other guys.

The bar is warm and loud with the music up, jackets off, and drinks flowing. Just the team, which is the whole point.

Riley fits in immediately, which should not surprise me, and does anyway.

She’s at one of the barstools with Quinn, and she has a drink in her hand that is mostly ice now. She's laughing at something Wyatt said, which means Wyatt has been talking to her for too long and I should probably intervene before he says something I have to apologize for later.

But I stay where I am. Across the room, in a private booth, watching.

He seems to be on good behavior around her.

I drink my club soda. I watch her.

She gets another drink. Then another.

I clock the shift somewhere between the second and third, the way her shoulders drop a little further, the way her laugh gets looser, the way she stops tucking her hair behind her ear and just lets it fall.

The careful version of Riley Brooks has gone offline for the night.

And when the music gets louder, and Wyatt leans more into Quinn, basically whispering in her ear, Riley glances across the room until our eyes meet.

A smile stretches her lips, and her eyes crinkle in the cutest way.

I can’t stop staring. I watch her down the rest of her drink, and from the dim lights, I see a drop slide down from the sides of her lips, down her neck, down her chest, into the low-neck top that’s hugging her chest like a second skin, and I can’t look away.

Slowly, she climbs off her stool with wobbly legs and starts heading for me.

All I see are her swaying hips. Sometime between stepping into the bar and settling for drinks, she’s taken off the leather jacket, and it’s now resting on the arm of my chair.

“You’ve got it bad, man,” Kai, sitting beside me, taps my shoulder, breaking the trance.

I glance at him, and he rises to his feet. He walks off without another word.

When I look forward again, Riley is there, in my line of vision, and the bar fades.

“Hi…” She drawls, settling into my legs with arms around my shoulders.