Page 30 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

"You good with a comedy?" I ask, even though it’s too late. The damn thing had already started, but I figured it’d be the most low-key option since I knew she’d be on edge.

“It’s perfect,” she replies, and I hand her the ketchup.

We find a rhythm not long after. Her soft laughter mixing with the murmur of engines settling into their spots. It's contagious, easing the tension and centering us back into each other’s company.

She relaxes more as the movie goes on, finally, and I steal more glances.

She's beautiful—the beautiful that doesn't shout but settles over you. It’s undeniable, like the crescendo of a game-winning cheer. Her laughter cuts through the sounds of the movie, more gripping than any scripted line, and I catch my laugh mirroring it. The challenges—her father's ire and my team's razzing—feel distant when we’re within arm’s length.

It’s like it can’t touch us.

However, that’s a naive piece of me speaking. This shit is dangerous and chaotic and will cause tons of media presence if it gets out. Rory will be under fire for sleeping with her father’s rival team, and I’ll be known as the dude who wanted to see how far I could push the line.

And I definitely will not learn my lesson when it comes to her.

Not a chance in hell.

We're a storyline the sports channels would eat up and mold into more views and updates. Yet here we are, making our own highlights reel and not allowing anyone else to see it.

I’d do this a million times if it meant I get to be this close to her.

The truth is, taking things slow is different from my usual play, but Rory's worth the strategy shift. She's the kind of gamble you make when the final buzzer’s about to sound, and you have nothing to lose.

"I've been wanting to try this place out," I confide.” I saw the ads during the game highlights every time I’m in Chicago.”

“Didn’t want to go by yourself?”

“I don’t mind coming here alone, but I enjoy my company.”

She smiles but doesn’t glance over at me. “I would hope so,” she replies. “I only caught a plane and had a forty-minute delay for this.”

“No pressure,” I jeer, taking another bite of my burger. “However, I plan on making it worth your while.”

“Do you?” She steals a glance at me, then those light green orbs glaring with seduction and faux innocence. “I have high standards.”

“You might think you do, but I fucked you in my hotel suite, and you liked it just fine.” She blushes furiously at the reminder but doesn’t avert her gaze. “I’m obsessed with that memory.”

Her lips coil into a pretty little smile. “Obsessed?”

“Famished.”

“All over that?”

“All over that and wanting more,” I reply honestly. “You’ve been a constant on my mind, Snowflake. I can’t shake you off.”

“Even with…everything?”

I know she's thinking about the high stakes; that thought is never far—a shadow lingering outside our tinted windows. Her father's expectations, my team's wisecracks—bring ‘em on, honestly. I’m always the crack of a joke and the punchline. I take shit from my guys daily. It won’t be anything new. Because despite the chaos, this feels right—us, the movie, the stolen glances. I can handle slapshots from all angles, but missing this shot with Rory isn’t one I’m willing to take.

I’m in it to win.

I reach for another French fry, and Rory slaps my hand lightly. “Hey, don’t eat them all.”

Quirking a brow, I glance over at her. “Did I find your weak spot?”

“You found one of my favorite foods,” she retorts with a wry smile.

“Good to know. So, the next time I want you to come see me, all I have to do is have a giant plate ready for you then?”

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