Page 51 of Back On Ice

The reporter, a man who looks to be in his early thirties, clears his throat before speaking. “Mr. Williams, is there any word on who you’re going to be playing for this upcoming season?” He points the mic toward Carter, awaiting an answer.

Fucking hell.

We’re here about the rec center, not Carter’s hockey career. I know he can’t control what questions they ask him, but shit.Can we please focus on what’s important?

“Not yet, but hopefully, I’ll be staying close to home so I can continue to support the rinks. Reviving the rec center has been a team effort, but Sophie Hartwell,” he lifts a hand in my direction, “has really been the driving force behind the whole thing. Without her vision, love for the town, and commitment to keeping the heart of the rec center intact, we never would have gotten this far.”

He turns his head towards me and smiles that brilliant smile, winking at me. At the motion, the cameras flash like crazy again, momentarily stunning me. My cheeks flush pink at the attention, and I do my best to not look like a love struck teenager.

My heart pounds and thighs clench at his public declaration. He’s all but claiming me, in front of everyone.

I’m his.

This presentation needs to wrap the fuck up so I climb that man like a tree.

Six hours later, when I’m coming apart on his tongue in his hotel room, I realize one very important thing.

This reward wassoworth the wait.

Chapter Twenty One

CARTER

I’ve gotten usedto waking up next to Sophie. Coming into consciousness with her wrapped up in my arms has easily become one of the best parts of my day. Her soft hair in my face, the way she always smells amazing, the feel of her soft curves under my hands; not only is it enough to make my morning wood painfully hard, and we end up having slow, lazy morning sex more times than not, but it also makes it so easy to imagine waking up like this every day, for the rest of our lives.

She had to take Jordan to school this morning, so she went home last night to sleep in her own bed. She might’ve come to see me before work if she didn’t have to open the flower shop this morning, but I guess Kerry had something important come up and couldn’t do it. The hotel feels empty without Sophie here, making us both coffee that we sip together as we rest against the headboard.

Without her humming coming from the shower as she washes her hair.

Without the warmth of her very presence as she clicks through spreadsheets on her laptop, sitting on the bed in nothing but my t-shirt and underwear.

It was torture trying to say goodbye to her last night, trying and failing to resist the urge to kiss her senseless each time she told me, “Now Ireallyhave to go.”

But… Ihavebeen taking up most of her free time, so I won't complain.

Even though I want to.

My running shoes in the closet catch my eye, and I might as well make the best of an otherwise shitty morning, since that’s now what I consider every morning without my girl.

Shitty.

It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a morning run, so I lace up my shoes and head out the door. Running has always been my go-to way to clear my mind. It pushes out all the noise and lets me have some semblance of peace. Back when Dad was still in my life, I’d run twice a day. There’s something freeing about pushing my body to the limit, feeling the wind on my face and the pavement under my feet.

As I run, I go over what plans I have for the rest of the day when Jake texts.

Jake: Hey man, we still on for lunch today?

Me: Duh. Sals?

Jake: Duh. Smartass.

Jake: 12:30?

Me: See you then

He doesn’t normally check to see if we’re still meeting. Since he got back to town, Wednesdays are lunch at Sal’s, and then we hit the rink or something. Maybe something’s on his mind.

Just as I’ve run until my legs are sore, my phone dings again, this time with a text from mom.

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