Page 21 of Body Check

No picking sides.

No feeling guilty.

I set my hand on the back of Holly’s seat, consciously aware that I can’t crowd her or tease her into glancing up and having my crotch at eye level. In a relationship, it would be funny, maybe even sexy, depending on the mood. While divorced, it’s pushing boundaries.

And she’s already warned me that I push those enough already.

As if sensing my presence, she glances up, gaze skimming up my body until she arrives at my face. Behind the black frames of her glasses, her blue eyes are bright and beautiful. “I’m going to assume you’re the one behind the gift?”

I shift my weight back, giving us space, and rest my ass against the seat opposite hers. “It’s a peace offering.” Perched in her lap, the bag sits unopened, the black tissue paper still spiking up in the air from when I tried to make it look half-decent this morning. “I think you’ll like it.”

Her fingers trail up the side, then tug down on the bag. The tissue paper crinkles but remains in place. Probably because I stuffed an entire package in there—like cooking, wrapping presents isn’t my thing. Making assists on the ice? Scoring goals and watching the lamp light up? That’s more my speed.

“Black like your soul, I see.” She says it with a teasing glint before plucking the black tissue paper from the bag and tucking it between her knees. Blond ponytail swinging forward, she peers inside and promptly lets loose a low, husky laugh. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

I watch as she pulls out the noise-cancellation headphones that I bought for her. Against my will, my chest tightens when faced with the small smile curving her lips. Fuck me, but the tightening sensation feels a lot more like strangulation when she flicks her gaze up to my face, a question in her blue eyes.

“We’re noisy bastards, if you remember,” I say gruffly. “Figure with all the traveling you’ll be doing with us over the next few months, it might be something you’d like to keep on hand.”

On the other side of Holly, Carmen snorts—derisively, no doubt—and makes a show of whipping out a pair of small earbuds and sticking them in her ears.

I open my mouth, prepared to apologize for not bringing her something, too, when Matt taps me on the shoulder. “Take a seat, Mr. Carter. We’re ready to get a move-on.”

“Right,” I mutter, “sorry for the hold up.”

Holly’s cheeks flush and she drops her gaze. “Thanks for the gift, Jackson.” Her fingers drum along the headset’s cushioned ear padding. “It’s great. And I’m sure we’ll see each other later on today, but—”

I sit.

What the hell are you doing, man?

Clearly, Holly has the same idea because her lips purse. “What’re you doing?”

Hell if I know.

If I were smart, I’d tromp right back to where I’d been sitting with Beaumont and Cain.

If I were smart, I wouldn’t give a shit if I watched her discover what else I put in the bag.

If I were smart, I’d do everything in my power to get it in my skull that Holly and I didn’t work for a million and one different reasons, and I’d be an idiot to let myself linger now. To let myself soak up her scent, her beauty, the sweet pitch of her voice.

Holly was equal parts my strength and my weakness, and in this moment, I can’t resist the pull—herpull.

I snap the seat belt together across my hips. Pinch my suit at the knees and get comfortable, my left leg sprawled in the aisle and my right spread wide and bent at the knee to fit in the narrow row.

“Jackson?”

I slide the blind down over the oval window, blocking out the sights of Logan International Airport and eclipsing my two seats in relative darkness. “Open up the rest of your peace offerings, Holls. I want to see your face.”

8

Holly

Iwant to see your face.

There’s no time to respond or still my rapidly beating heart before the cabin lights flicker and dim, and Matt’s smooth voice echoes over the speakers: “Hello, my dear Blades. So good to see you all again! It’s been too long.”

A chorus of male voices rise up behind me:

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