Page 57 of Rebel Bride
“We could just look at the water, couldn’t we?” Instead of each other.
“Yep.” One syllable, into which he managed to infuse a dumpster truckload of gravel.
A minute later we were parked, facing the lake, the headlights shining on the water. Suddenly the car was the size of a postage stamp, the air leaden like a summer storm was brewing. I got out and stood in front of the hood.
The car door closed behind me. “You want up?”
“Up?” I turned to find him standing close, holding a light blanket. The headlights provided just enough light to illuminate his thoughtful expression.
“On the hood? If we’re gonna park, we need to do it right.”
“Oh, okay.”
He spread the blanket out. His hands gripped my waist gently, and he took a second to adjust his hold before lifting me with ease and placing me on the hood. For a few moments, he held his hands curled on my waist and stood before me. My thighs itched to part, to bracket his hips, to draw him in like that night we’d kissed outside the restaurant, but he retreated before that impulse could overtake my common sense. He climbed up and sat beside me.
Across the bay, the lights of Saugatuck twinkled. I’d seen signs earlier saying we were officially in Douglas, the next town over.
“Jason’s joining the Rebels in the fall,” he said. Jason Isner was Theo’s half-brother, Hatch’s uncle, and a star defenseman for the Boston Cougars.
“I’m so glad that worked out.”
He tilted his head. “You knew?”
“I’m the assistant—or I was the assistant to the GM. I knew there was talk of bringing him over. We have to be realistic about your dad’s longevity. Even if he decides to stay on, we need to build up the defensive bench. Lars isn’t getting any younger and MacFarlane is good but not ready to lead. Jason would be a great addition to the D-lines.”
He looked surprised. “You do know your hockey.”
I chuckled. “You don’t work in the front office for close to five years without picking up a few things. I’ve drilled down on the Central Scouting rankings, compiled reports, put together presentations. When Dash was at away games, I spent most of my time researching the league prospects for the Scouting and Player Development Division.”
“Ryder had you doing that?”
“Not Ryder. I brought it up once, but he didn’t seem interested. One night at a game, I got talking to Scott Kincaid and I told him a couple of things about one of the rookies, just some strategy analytics. Nothing major.” Hatch was staring at me, intense as ever. “I told him that I’d love to be a scout one day. One thing led to another, and I started producing reports for him.”
“Is that what you’ve been working on with my laptop?”
I nodded.
“But you gave up your job.”
“I did. I regret that. I regret caving to Dash. But I think I had it in my head that separating myself from this administrative job would allow me to take the scouting option more seriously. That people might take me more seriously. I convinced myself that this would be a good step.” But then I overheard Dash and his mother talking about getting me knocked up as soon as possible. “And now I’ve messed it up completely. I made Dash look like a fool and no one’s going to take me seriously at all. I’m just the flake who climbed out a bathroom window in her wedding dress. What does she know about NHL prospects or Corsi scores or whether Jason Isner is a good fit for the team? He is, you know! I told Scott all about it when I handed in my report.”
I sniffed, which had Hatch looking alarmed.
Woman. Tears. Bad.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
It really wasn’t, though. Love was for suckers. No more. From here on out, I was going for what I wanted.
Starting now. Tonight, I wanted to be Shelby Mae again, that girl who scrapped and scraped her way out of the backwoods. I’d leaned too far into Summer, trying to be all things to everyone. Determined to never make waves and accept compromise as the measure of success.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. He inched closer, and the heat off him burned through me. “You’re going to figure it out.”
“Right now, I can’t see the road ahead.” As long as I stayed here in this bubble, I didn’t have to look too far. Not with a gorgeous guy like Hatch Kershaw blocking the view. It wasn’t his fault. He had been nothing but kindness itself, and here I was taking up so much space.
I raised my gaze to his. “I’m not making things easy for you, am I?”
“You never have,” he bit out. And the heated look he gave me? I would say it was hatred but that wasn’t right. This was more like … torment.
