Page 50 of Instigator

She glares at me, but I can see the anxiety in her eyes. “I love that you think there’s even a remote possibility of that happening.”

“There will only be data if something happens, and gawking at the screen doesn’t help.”

She opens her mouth.

“Watch the game, cheer for your man, and wait until the game is over to check the data.”

“Intermission,” she counters.

I sigh. “Fine. But put it away until then.”

She lifts her chin, and I almost think she’s going to defy me, when she crumbles and shoves the tablet into her tote bag.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him,” she whispers.

Halfway through last season, Nick took a big hit that resulted in a concussion—a bad one. It scared her enough that she had to resign as the team’s concussion spotter because she couldn’t stand to watch it happen again.

And now we’re working together on a safer, more protective helmet that will give us data in real time about the severity of head impact.

Hopefully.

I have every confidence in us. I’ve worked on the code for over a year, and I’m sure I’ve got the kinks worked out.

The team is about to hit the road for a quick trip to Dallas and then Austin, and they’re taking our helmets with. Bex is traveling with them this time, just to make sure everything works appropriately. They invited me along, but there’s really no need for me to attend. Even though I’d like to.

Traveling with a professional hockey team? Talk about a dream come true. As a sports nut, it’s all I could ever hope for.

But as a person… all I want is to travel with Aidan. And that’s not part of the deal. We’re not publicly friends. It would be weird to hang out with him.

Even though he’s the only one I want to spend time with.

twenty-two

. . .

Aidan

After a long flight home from Texas, the only thing I want to do is go home and shower off the plane germs. I’m tired, my eyes are dry from sleeping on the plane, my body is bruised and sore, and I want to crawl into bed and never get out.

Except my phone is burning a hole in my pocket. I had connected to the plane Wi-Fi out of habit, and about three hours ago, Ceci texted me. I can’t sleep.

So, being a colossal dumbass, I texted back. Meet me at the diner on Federal Street. We land at six.

And then for some unknown reason… she agreed.

Since Ryan and I carpooled to the airfield, I have to drive him back to our building. I let myself into my apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and then drive the two and a half miles to the diner halfway between her place and mine. If it weren’t a balmy twelve degrees, I’d be tempted to walk or run there. With Ceci waiting on me… yeah, I hurry the fuck up.

She’s already in a booth when I arrive, looking out at the eastward-facing window with her chin on her fist, her dark eyes fighting valiantly to stay open. She looks up when I slide onto the bench opposite her, a tired smile on her face.

“Hey.” Her voice is husky and low, a little gritty.

Fuck, she’s pretty. Given the early-morning hour, I’d know she hasn’t been to sleep yet even if she hadn’t told me.

Exhaustion creases her features, but she’s never looked more gorgeous. She’s scrubbed off all her makeup and is wearing a pair of diamanté cat-eye glasses, her hair tied back in a braid over one shoulder. I’ve seen her dressed up in a ball gown, in casual clothes, in professional attire… but somehow, seeing her dressed down in an oversized hoodie makes my heart rate kick up a notch.

“Good morning,” I mutter.

“Is it morning yet?” She lifts a coffee cup to her lips. My attention pings to her mouth, cataloging the absence of her usual berry stain. I wonder what it would be like to taste those lips, to take her mouth under mine and never let her go.