Page 32 of He Has Game (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“She had her heart broken by a hockey player and doesn’t mind taking revenge vicariously through other poor unfortunate substitutes. She’ll skewer them.”
“Got it.” He lets out a loud whistle. “Guys, Lombo is a good friend of my fiancée and she’s off-limits. Understand?”
His directive is followed by a lot of grumbling and swearing and they all back off, except Aiden. Aiden seems to have his own relationship with Finn whereby he’s immune to the command in his voice or even the threat of his fists. I’ve seen that for myself. I may have to have a talk with Aiden privately. But it’ll have to wait until I talk to Finn. About the engagement ring.
My thought bubble bursts with the touch of Finn’s lips on my temple.
He whispers, “A penny for your thoughts?”
“A penny. Guess I’m a pretty cheap date.” I fake a smile.
“No, but you have one of the most expressive faces I’ve ever seen and I can see trouble on it. I need to know. Penny or no penny, what the fuck is bothering you? One hundred percent honesty, remember?”
“Right.” Sidestepping for a moment the issue of potential repercussions of Aiden flirting with my friend—it’s justified because the issue of the diamond engagement ring is more urgent, not to mention the fact that I spilled our secret about the fake engagement—I start with telling Finn about my encounter earlier with our nemesis, Sherry Boylston.
Leading him away from the crowd of men swilling beers to a quieter corner, we’re assaulted by a young woman who spills through the door.
“Finn, tell me it’s not true,” she cries. She’s dressed in a modified hockey jersey with Finn’s name on the back. The modification includes an extreme v-neck to show off her cleavage, which is fine, but she doesn’t appear to be wearing anything other than the shirt except red patent leather boots. Launching herself, she lands against Finn’s chest, shoving me aside in the process. But Finn holds on, and in that instant, I don’t care about the girl who I’d been uncharitably growing to despise based on nothing but her attention on my fiancé—fake or not.
“Whoa, Susie. Yes it’s true.” He pushes her off him, holding her at a distance with one arm. A bouncer rushes through the door, a minute too late, and takes her by the arm.
“Let’s go. This is a private party. I’m sorry, Mr. Reed.”
“Call me Finn. And thanks.” Finn salutes the bouncer as the giant man escorts the tearful Susie away. I want to ask what that was all about, but it’s fairly obvious, isn’t it? Besides, there’s no way to ask that question without sounding like a possessive shrew. Even as inexperienced as I am with boyfriends, I know that much.
“I’m sorry, Vivvie.” He scoops me closer into the circle of his arms, leaning against the wall. He positions me between his legs where I’m forced to lean into his hard chest—and other body parts that I’m trying hard not to feel. To ignore.
“You don’t owe me any—”
“Sure I do. The last thing I want to do is cause you embarrassment—at least not that kind.” He winks. “So what’s on your mind?”
I take a deep breath, squirm to give my hips some space so I’m not up against his . . . hard and massive cock. No matter how delicious it feels or how drunk it makes me feel even if I haven’t had even a sip of alcohol. I need to concentrate hard on what I have to say, so I blurt it.
“I ran into Sherry Boylston at the game and she asked about my engagement ring. So I told her it was being sized. Then she asked where I bought it so I told her you bought it at Shreve, Crump & Low.”
“Fuck. A ring.”
“It’s all right. I’ll insist Mary have the team pay for the ring. Maybe we can rent one.”
“Rent a diamond?” He laughs. “You’re a funny one, but then I’ve seen Mary do a lot of crazy things. It’s scary to admit, but you two think alike sometimes.” He pauses while I soak up the words like a compliment because I think he means it that way. I think we both admire Mary for her absolute confidence and no-nonsense, can-do attitude.
“I’ll call her now.” Without waiting, I slip out my phone, anxious to settle this, my guilt weighing on me. “Maybe we can get a cubic zirconia.”
“Not happening. I’ll get you a real diamond. At fucking Shreve, Crump & Low. It’ll have to be the genuine article because Boylston knows her jewelry and we don’t want to give her ammunition to say I’m a cheap fucker. We need to call her bluff before she calls ours.”
“You can’t buy me a diamond.” I’m holding the phone in my hand, shocked, my cheeks pinking up in that way he has of making me want him more than anything, especially when he looks at me that way, like he’s reading my mind. The idea that we’re on the same sexually excited page is reinforced when he takes the phone from my hand and tosses it.
“Yes, I can.”
“But why?”
“Why not? I’ll marry someone someday. I’ll use it for real. Eventually.”
My gut squirms at the thought, protesting regardless of any right I might have or not. His stare doesn’t help my nerves. It’s an edgy look and I wish like mad I could read his mind the way he reads mine. But no such luck.
“Of course. Sure. That makes sense,” I rush my words then clam up before I say more. He winks, wraps a confident arm around me as if he understands. Because, let’s face it, he probably does. After all, I’ve already confessed my crush, behaved like a hussy kissing him the way I did. God only knows what he thinks of me.
In my bravest moments, I’d like to know. But right now isn’t one of those moments. All my bravery for the day was used up when I faced the evil Mrs. Boylston. Though if she shows up again, I know I can rise to the occasion because the mere thought of her makes me want to spit. I might even swear at her—but not in public.
“Let’s go home,” he says, making it sound like the most natural thing.
