The Deal

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Garrett says suddenly, and I turn around to see Birdie and Natalie appear in the doorway where Garrett and I are lurking.

Their faces are flushed and their expressions are secretive, leaving no doubt as to why they’re late for the party. I give Nat a hug of greeting, then smile at Birdie, who responds to Garrett’s taunt with a defensive look.

“Hey, I already told you I’m against this party. It’s bad luck to celebrate before you’ve even won.”

“Naah, we’ve got this in the bag, man.” Garrett grins and leans in to smack a kiss on my cheek. “Besides, I’ve already won the most important prize of all.”

I’m pretty sure my cheeks turn into a pair of tomatoes.

Natalie groans good-naturedly, but Birdie, to my surprise, just nods in approval.

“See,” Garrett informs us as he slings an arm around my shoulder, “I’m allowed to say stuff like that to Birdie because I know he won’t make fun of me.”

“Well, he should,” I grumble, “because that line was cheesy as hell.”

“Oh, shut it,” he mimics. “You like it when I’m romantic.”

Yep. I really do.

Birdie and Nat wander off to say hi to everyone, but Garrett and I stay in our little corner. He tugs me toward him and kisses me, and even though I’m anti-PDA, it’s impossible to think about social etiquette when Garrett Graham is kissing me.

His lips are warm and firm, his tongue hot and wet as he slides it into my mouth for a fleeting taste. I part my lips eagerly, wanting more, but he chuckles and tweaks a strand of my hair.

“Stop being inappropriate, Hannah. We’re in public.”

“Ha. Like I can’t see your boner.”

His gaze drops to his crotch, and he sighs when he notices the bulge straining against his jeans. “For fuck’s sake, Wellsy, you get me hard without me even noticing.” He frowns. “Damn it, now I’m gonna have to leave my own party so we can go upstairs and take care of this. Thanks a lot.”

I snort. “Dream on. There’s no way I’m doing the walk of shame afterward in front of all our friends.”

His face collapses. “You’re ashamed of me?”

“Don’t give me that little boy trickery.” I poke him in the chest. “It doesn’t work on me anymore.”

“Little boy?” he echoes. A wicked smile curves his mouth as he angles his body so that he’s facing away from the room. Then he takes my hand and plants it directly over his hard-on. “Does this feel little or boyish to you?”

Shivers fly up my spine. Oh no. Now I’m turned on.

As my heart pounds and my body tingles, I let out an annoyed groan and grab his hand. “Fine. Let’s go upstairs.”

“Nope. I changed my mind about that. We’re going to stay down here and enjoy the party.”

I drop his hand like a hot potato and scowl deeply. “You’re such a vagina-tease.”

Garrett laughs. “Yeah, but you still love me.”

Tiny butterflies of happiness take flight in my stomach and dance around my heart. I take his hand again and lace our fingers together. “Yeah,” I murmur with a smile. “I still love you.”





Epilogue




Garrett


My father waits outside the arena when the team bursts out the back doors. Dean had somehow gotten his hands on an old-school boom box, and he has it propped up on his shoulder as Queen’s “We Are the Champions” blasts out of the speakers. There’s nobody around to hear the victory song but us, and the family and friends who made it out to Philly to watch us play. Applause breaks out as we stroll up like the champions we are, and several of my bonehead teammates take exaggerated bows before heading over to say hello to the people who came out to see us.

I fucking did it. I mean, it was a team effort—no, a team domination, because for the first time in years, the Frozen Four championship game was a shutout. Simms didn’t let our opponents score. Not even once. And it seems fitting that the three lamplighters on our side came from me, Tuck, and Birdie, respectively.

I’m proud of my team. I’m proud of myself for leading us here. It’s the perfect end to the perfect season, and it gets a little more perfect when Hannah rushes over and hurls herself into my arms.

“Oh my God! That was the best game ever!” she declares before kissing me so hard my lips feel bruised.

I grin at her enthusiasm. “Did you like the little gun-finger I flashed you after that goal? All for you, baby.”

She grins back. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you were actually pointing at the old guy a few seats over. He totally freaked out and started shouting to everyone that you scored that goal for him, and then I heard him ask his wife if maybe you knew that he was just diagnosed with diabetes, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him who the goal was really for.”

I break down in laughter. “Why is nothing ever simple with us?”

“Hey,” she protests. “We’re more interesting this way.”