Page 43 of Forecasting the Forward

“Yes, we’re definitely taking the ring,” I respond. Becca reluctantly removes the ring and places it on the glass display case. Once the salesperson leaves, Becca finally looks at me.

“Did you even look at the price?” she asks.

“No,” I laugh. I don’t care if it was a hundred thousand dollars. That ring is meant to be Becca’s.

“It’s probably thousands of dollars!” she hisses.

“And? I’ve got the money, Spitfire. I couldn’t give you the wedding of your dreams. Let me give you this.”

“You’re already doing too much,” she whispers, her head dropping.

“Hey,” I tell her, grabbing her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Pulling her chin up, I wait until I can see her gorgeous eyes. “I don’t regret one moment of the last couple of days. Well, I take that back. I regret not punching your brother.”

Becca giggles. “I’m glad you didn’t. He’s a litigious jerk, and I’d hate to see you dragged in the media because you were protecting me.”

“I’d happily deal with a PR nightmare every fucking day if it meant shutting your brother up,” I say with a grin, then lean forward and quickly kiss her lips. “Let me take care of you, darlin’.”

Becca excuses herself to use the bathroom before we leave, and the salesperson brings out the ring immediately after. “Will you be financing the purchase?”

I chuckle again as I pull out my Black Card. “No.”

“It really is amazing how the ring fit her perfectly,” she comments. “Like it was made for her.”

“Completely agree. It was definitely made for her.”

Once the sale is finalized, I wait for Becca to finish before we head back out to the waiting taxi.

“Oh, wow. It’s over a hundred dollars for the fare already,” Becca comments.

I couldn’t care less. “We were in there a while.”

“We didn’t have to stop for this.”

Yes, we did. “I’m happy we did. This ring is perfect for you.”

Becca sighs as I open the box, pull out the ring, and slide it back onto her finger. “It really is perfect. How much was it?”

“Enough.”

She slaps my arm. “Don’t play that game with me. It had to have been at least a couple thousand dollars. How much?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” I respond with a devilish smile. Eight thousand is the same as a couple thousand, right? “It doesn’t matter how much it was, Spitfire. The only thing that matters to me is seeing how happy this ring makes you.”

Becca’s head falls to the seat behind her as she gives me a sweet smile. “You really are a good guy, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think so,” I say, then lean toward her so I can whisper in her ear. “But not all the time.”

I don’t miss the shiver that wracks her body.

Lookingup at the board with all the flights leaving the Las Vegas airport, I feel Becca’s hand slip into mine. “How much trouble are you going to be in?”

“I don’t know.”

Our nonstop flight to Cleveland is delayed, meaning I won’t make the game on time. It was already going to be dicey, with our arrival time only an hour before puck drop, but I’d hoped to at least get there and be moral support if Coach decided to keep me on the bench.

“Can we find somewhere to go so you can call your coach?” Becca asks.

“Yeah, there’s a lounge past security. I’ll call from there.” Even though I have TSA Pre-Check, I’ve chosen to wait with Becca in the standard security line. I’m apprehensive about leaving her alone for even a few minutes right now. It’s probably unlikely that her brother sent someone after us, and I doubt he tracks her location. But if something happens to her because I’m impatient and waited in a shorter line, I’ll never forgive myself.

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