Page 71 of Tight End

“You ladies keeping my girl company?” Ryan saunters our way, his eyes locked on mine, and I’m trying really hard to keep my stomach from flipping and the blush from spreading across my face, but I fail on both accounts.

Damn him.

He really needs to be less irresistible. That would make being around him a lot easier.

Lucy and Avery are both wearing matching smirks and give me a small wave, leaving me here alone with the one man I can’t seem to get away from today. Or any day.

“You really are the worst.” I purse my lips, doing my best not to smile.

His lip twitches, and he pulls me in for a hug. Very reluctantly, I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his chest. He holds me to him, and I’d love to say I don’t feel anything, but that would be a lie.

There’s something about being in his arms that feels right.

“Everyone is heading out, it’s getting late, and I don’t want them getting rowdy and waking up Oliver.” Ryan murmurs against my head, one of his hands lazily running upand down my back. “You were great tonight. Everyone loves you.”

“Your friends are all nice. I’m glad you invited everyone over, especially Dean. I think Oliver found a new best friend.” Doesn’t hurt that Dean got down on the ground and raced monster trucks with him for a good forty minutes.

He pulls back, smoothing a hand down my hair and hands me the poker set he brought out earlier. “Any chance you can toss this back in my closet? Dean’s been eyeballing it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to take it with him. I’m going to shove these guys out the door, and I’ll meet you upstairs.”

With a nod, I grab the set, say goodbye to a few of the girls, and head upstairs.

I haven’t been in Ryan’s room since the first night I stayed here. It looks exactly the same—decorated in grays and dark blues, very masculine, very clean—but it feels so different. Maybe it’s me. So much has changed since that night.

His closet is much of the same. It’s huge, but also very organized. Maybe too organized. I bet his assistant set all this up for him. He’s got a section for suits, another for T-shirts, long sleeves, a whole shelf of shoes and ... what the hell?

A wedding dress.

No, two of them. One is covered in intricate beading with a large, puffy skirt, and the other is simple, but pretty. They’re complete opposites aside from the color and their pristine state.

One of them is mine, and the other isn’t one I’ve seen before.

There are footsteps behind me and a familiar buzzing under my skin.

“I can explain.”

THIRTY-THREE

Ryan

The wedding dresses.I can’t believe I forgot about them, and now I’m sure I look like either a creeper or a pervert. Maybe both.

June turns around slowly, her eyes wide, and as she takes me in, she takes a step back. “Why do you have two wedding dresses in your closet? Do you ... ?”

I don’t know where that brain of hers is going, but instead of letting her ask her questions, I blurt out, “I don’t masturbate with them or anything like that.”

Not sure why that was my first thought or why I thought it would be hers, but it’s too late to take it back. Especially now that she’s staring at me like I’ve completely lost it.

She makes a choking noise, her hands covering her chest, covering her heart. “Well, I wasn’t thinking that. Whatdoyou do with them? Is the other one yours?”

“I don’t wear them either.” Jesus fucking Christ. I’m really killing it right now. I really hope she isn’t picturing me skipping around the house in a wedding dress, having tea parties with myself or whatever fancy shit people do. I take adeep breath, letting it out slowly. “The other dress belonged to my wife. She wore it when we got married.”

Her hands move up to her mouth and she gasps, backing up farther into the closet. “You’re married. Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“She . . . I . . .”

My breath gets caught in my throat and my heart races. Talking about Caitlin isn’t something I do, despite my mother’s insistence. It’s hard for me to bring up the past, and for so long I thought my future held nothing but loneliness.

Hell, Dean doesn’t even know I was married. Caitlin and I were in college in Texas, and he was playing pro hockey. It never came up.

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