I glance up at the jumbotron as I fly down the ice, the puck at the end of my stick.
We’re tied in Game Seven with a minute and a half to go.
Just one goal. That’s all we need.
We can do it. I know we can. I feel it in the air. In my bones. It’s palpable. So damn close I can almost fucking taste it.
I pass to Rhodes and he plays with it a bit, watching the other skaters before zipping it back my way.
Twenty.
I line up my shot, watching the Vegas guys in my periphery.
Fifteen.
I wait for the screen.
Ten seconds.
I pull my arm back.
Eight.
And swing.
The puck hits the back of the net, and the buzzer sounds with just seconds to spare.
We won.
We fucking won.
Gloves and sticks and helmets fly into the air as body after body slams into the glass with me trapped in the middle.
I’ve never been so thrilled to have the wind knocked out of me before.
“Holy shit!” Rhodes yells, grabbing me in a hug when he finally pushes through the crowd. I’ve never seen him smile so damn big before. “We fucking did it! We did it!”
He gives me a shake, then skates off, hugging everyone he can get his hands on.
“Come here, you beautiful bastard!” Miller grabs me next, kissing the side of my head. “Fucking killed it!”
And finally, when my captain skates up to me, I’m choking back the tears. I stick my hand out to shake his, and he shoves it away and hauls me into him. He hugs me tight, patting me on the back.
“Proud of you,” he says into my ear.
“You too.”
Everyone skates around, hugging one another about four or five times each. The air is pure electricity at this point.
We gather together for photos, and the Cup is presented.
It’s all so surreal, and I’ll remember the moment for the rest of my life.
My parents each give me a hug, then my brother and his boyfriend. When we’re all hugged out, that’s when I hear it.
“Hey, Hockey Guy!”
I spin toward my favorite sound in the world.
Harper’s standing a few feet away, one of those silly signs she’s so popular for hanging between her fingertips, a smile plastered across her face.
I don’t waste a moment, skating toward her and scooping her into my arms.
I slant my mouth over hers, kissing her until we’re both breathless.
“Hi,” I whisper against her lips, setting her back down on the ice.
“Hi,” she says on a smile, then gives me another peck. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I doubt that.”
“It’s true. You’re my good luck charm.”
“You don’t really believe in all that mumbo jumbo.”
I didn’t, not really. Not before her.
“So, what’s your sign say tonight?”
She pulls it out from behind her back and holds it up for me to read.
Hey, #96! I asked Lord Stanley if he wants to have a threesome tonight. He said yes.
“Hmm. Very fitting.”
“How so?”
“Just something I’ve been thinking about lately is all.”
Her eyes light up in surprise. “Oh, really?”
“Yep. Does that scare you?”
“Yes. Horribly so.”
“My little Horror Harper. She’ll fight off a killer or slay a demon, but when it comes to the man who loves her asking for her hand in marriage, she’ll say—”
“Yes.” Harper grabs my sweater, pulling me down to her. “She’ll say yes.”
“Really?”
She nods with a grin. “Really.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” I kiss her again. “What if we had lost?”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“But you had a sign made anyway, didn’t you?”
She nods, then pulls away and shows me other side of the sign.
A laugh bursts out of me as I read it.
Oops?
Shaking my head, I pull her back to me. “I love you, Harper.”
She sighs against me. “And I love you, Hockey Guy.”
Turns out getting the game-winning goal in Game Seven of the Stanley Cup Finals is a pretty damn good reason for your team to re-sign you for six more years.
I’m staying in North Carolina.
And that’s why we’re here in Vegas to celebrate. Well, that and the Cup.
“To Hot Hockey Guy!” an inebriated Ryan yells. “And Hot Hitchhiker!” She holds up what I think is her sixth shot…of the hour. That doesn’t include the frozen drink she sucked down and the three shots she did before we even left the hotel. “He got the Cup, he got the girl, and he got the contract, baby!”
She downs the shot, not bothering to wait for anyone else.
I pull Harper into me, dropping my lips to her ear. “Your friend is completely hammered.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Think we should call it a night?”
“For all of us?”
She looks up at me with hope in her eyes, and I laugh. “Not so fast. I still have plans to dance with you tonight. I meant for the drunk one.”
“Oh. Then my answer is still yes.” She glances over at Rhodes, who looks like he’s having the worst time ever. “I have no idea where Miller and Lowell ran off to, but think Rhodes can take her back to her room?”
Do I think so? Yeah. I trust Rhodes with my life. He’d never let anything happen to Ryan.
I kick his foot with mine. He directs his furrowed brows my way, and I slide my eyes up to Ryan.
Being Rhodes, he understands what I’m asking.
Take care of her.
He rises from the plush lounge chair and reaches up, grabbing Ryan down from the top of the booth where she’s currently yelling and dancing.
“No, thank you!” she says to him, booping him on the nose.
His scowl deepens, and I can’t help but laugh.
Annoyed, he slings her over his shoulder.
“Hey! You cranky hot giant! Put me down!”
He ignores her.
“Harper! Help!”
Harper just shakes her head. “No! Go lie down—you’re drunk!”
Ryan gasps. “I am not!”
“Are too!”
“You traitor!” she yells to her friend, banging on Rhodes’ back. “I thought you loved me!”
“I do!” Harper tells her. “It’s for your own good.”
“He’s going to kidnap me and hold me hostage in his castle!”
I swear I hear Rhodes mutter, “You wish.”
Ryan swats at him again, then shakes her tiny fist at us, and we laugh.
When they’re out of eyesight, I grab Harper’s drink from her hand, then stand. She looks up at me with confusion.
“Dance with me.”
“No way.”
“Harper Dolores Kelly…dance with me, dammit.”
She laughs at the use of her full name and pushes to her feet. I let my eyes trail over her body in a very appreciative manner. She’s wearing a black dress that’s full of sparkles, and it’s hugging every damn curve she has. I already can’t wait to see how it looks on our hotel room floor.
I pull her through the club and onto the dance floor. I don’t go too far into the crowd, wanting to make sure she has a clear exit in case she wants to leave, but just enough that it feels like we’re in a sea of bodies.
I tug her close to me, pressing my body against hers. I place a hand on the small of her back and bring the other up to my chest.
“Are you slow dancing with me in the middle of a club?” She grins up at me.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m practicing,” I tell her.
“For what?”
I pull her closer, dropping my lips to her ear. “Our wedding.”
When I pull back, her jaw is dropped, and she’s watching me with a surprised grin.
“What?” I ask, spinning us, not caring at all that we look like fools right now. “I’m being serious.”
“I know you are.” She shakes her head. “You’re awfully full of yourself, Hockey Guy.”
“Nah. I’m just sure I’m going to love you forever.”
Her breath hitches and I watch her closely, waiting for her to freak out or say something.
She doesn’t do either.
Instead, she presses her mouth to mine and tells me she feels the same with her kiss.
