Page 27 of Unsteady

Her chest starts to heave. I press a hand down firm on her sternum, trying to bring her back.

“Stop for a second.” She nods at me appreciatively. “Let’s go somewhere else today.”

She’s already shaking her head.

“I need to practice. You need the ice time—”

“One day won’t kill us.”

If Bennett or any of the team could hear me now they’d think they’d entered an alternate universe.

Instead of waiting for her to acquiesce, I slip my hands under her legs and pick her up in a bridal carry. She squeals lightly but doesn’t complain as I walk slowly back to the gate and all the way into the locker room.

“Do what you need to do and then come out to the car. I’ll go wait there.”

And without thinking, I drop a kiss to her forehead and pick up my gear bag, turning to leave the room before I can think about how ridiculous that move might have been.

* * *

“Extra cream cheese?” I ask, faking a gag that’s quickly rewarded by an angry little push.

“No cream cheese?” She fakes a gag, eyeing my savory breakfast sandwich. “Sweet over savory every time.”

We’re in my car, parked by a lake near town that Sadie had—reluctantly—suggested. It’s gorgeous, and busy, and even with the golden morning light shining like a halo over the painting-esque view, I’m distracted.

By her.

She’s so beautiful; dark lips and thick lashes over her darting, intense eyes. That little patch of freckles that I want to touch almost constantly. Silk brown hair that I imagine feels just like that if I ran my fingers through it.

“I’m glad you seem better.”

“Thanks for the food. I think I was just hungry.”

I don’t think it's that simple at all. But I can’t help the warm feeling that just feeding her has given me.

“Sure.” I nod. “But, I mean, I’m great at listening. If you want to talk about anything.”

Especially the part about getting laid.

I bite my tongue.

“I need another job, I guess, is the main point.” She blushes, but it quickly disappears as she turns away from me. “And usually, I’m not so… sensitive. I have a better handle on things when I’m not so… amped up.”

“Amped up?”

She rolls her eyes, gulping down another sip of her iced coffee.

“I just need to work out my stuff… get laid, you know. Athletes do it all the time.”

“I don’t,” I blurt out, immediately wishing I could take it back. I bite down a little harder on my tongue to keep from asking her if she wantsmeto help with that.

If she wanted you, she would’ve asked. Fucking look at her—she’s not afraid of anything.

But the image of her vulnerable, on the ice, looking up at me flashes. I don’t want anyone else to see her that way.

“Serial dater?” she snorts.

“More like serial monogamous. But, not anymore. I don’t—” I shrug, trailing off because I’m not sure what to stay.

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