“No, I didn’t see that in the paper,” I say and she smiles.

“Well, it needs to be there. Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s a big softy.”

Shea gives me a look that says otherwise, but I don’t think I should point that out.

“Okay, I gotta go do wedding crap. Can you believe they are pregnant?!”

I smile. “I’m guessing that’s huge?”

She nods. “Oh yeah, Reese never wanted kids, so yeah, big, huge deal. I’m really excited!”

“I can tell. That’s awesome, babe.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m off. I’ll come visit as I can. Everyone be nice,” she calls out to the table of Assassins, but by the way they are looking at me, I’m pretty sure they won’t be nice. Each guy is looking at me like I’m trying to steal her virtue, and all the women are looking at me like I’m a piece of cake.

It’s superweird.

Why am I sitting here again?

I bet this was Phillip’s doing, wanting to scare me. While he may be succeeding because I’m pretty sure Shea could squish me with one hand, I won’t let anyone know. Sitting up a little straighter, I take a pull of the new beer I was given before digging into the dinner that was magically placed in front of me. No one really speaks to me through dinner except for Elli; she talks to me and is really nice while her husband glares at me like I stole the last cookie.

“You play hockey, don’t you?” she asks and I nod.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“For whom?” Shea asks, looking over at me. He has his daughter, Posey, I think is her name, sitting in his lap, sleeping against his chest.

“The Bellevue Bullies.”

“Coach Moss?” he asks.

“Yup, you know him?”

“I do. I played for him when I was nine. Great guy, hard, you have a good coach,” he says, meeting my gaze. “Don’t waste the time you have with him. He is one of the greatest.”

“Couldn’t say it better myself. I went to Bellevue because of him.”

“Good, you’ll get better. Are you hoping to play for the NHL? Probably, huh? That’s basically any player’s dream,” he says, and everyone laughs around the table, nodding in agreement. The more I’m around real-life hockey players, the more I know I need to bulk up. When you see them on TV, you think it’s the pads, and while I have a great, strong body, it can be bigger, stronger. I need to get serious about it.

“I’m going into the draft this year,” I say, and he raises an eyebrow.

“What’s your name again?” he asks.

I take in a deep breath. “Jude Sinclair.”

“I think I’ve heard about you. They think you’ll go first round, top ten.”

I nod, a proud smile on my face. “Yes, sir. That’s the plan.”

“That’s awesome. I wish the best for you, but if you hurt Claire, you can kiss the draft goodbye,” he says, tipping his beer to me.

“’Cause I’ll be dead?” I ask.

He laughs as he nods. “Dead as a doornail. We’re big dudes, which, by the way, you might want to put some more muscle on those shoulders. Those boards are hard.”

“Duly noted, on both accounts. Claire is safe, I promise.”

I smile as I lean back in my seat, looking over my shoulder to find Claire laughing at something Reese has said. She leans against her, Phillip reaching across Reese to point his finger at Claire. They all look like such a happy little family. It’s an amazing thing to see, and sometimes I wish my family was like that. For that to happen though, my father would have to actually be a father, but I don’t want to think about him or that right now. Not when my girlfriend is probably the most gorgeous girl in the world.

She’s stunning in her blue gown, her hair so pretty, and I can’t help but be breathless when I look at her. Shea talks about being thrown into the boards and how I need to bulk up because they hurt; he’s completely right, but being in love with Claire is like being thrown up against them. She knocks the air out of me every time I look at her, and I can’t believe how much I love her. Never in my life did I think this could happen, but man, am I glad I was wrong.

A sigh escapes my lips; I go to turn back around but Claire’s eyes meet mine and a sweet grin comes over her face as she waves her fingers at me. A grin pulls at my lips as I cock my head toward the dance floor. A few people are dancing, and I need to be closer to her. I don’t like how far apart we are. Thankfully, she nods and gets up, saying something to Reese and Phillip. I stand as well, pushing my chair in and then meeting her halfway.

“You are unbelievable, Claire,” I say, taking her hand in mine.

A grin covers her sweet mouth as she cups our hands with her other hand. Leaning into me, she kisses my jaw before saying, “So are you.”

Kissing her temple, I take her to the dance floor and wrap my arms around her waist, holding her close, praying that I don’t ever have to let go. At least for the next couple songs, anyway. As we slowly sway to the crooning voice of Michael Buble, I cuddle my nose against her neck, taking in her soft, delicate smell. Running my lips up her neck to the spot beneath her ear, I say, “I love holding you like this.”

Pulling back, I see that she’s grinning, her eyes bright and intoxicating. Her lips press together in a pucker, and while I want nothing more than to kiss her, I can’t seem to get over the fact that her lips are a work of art. “I love your lips,” I say and she blushes.

“Good, kiss ’em.”

Cupping her jaw, I shake my head. “I rather stare at them. I should get them tattooed on me when we go to get your tattoo.”

She laughs, her eyes full of amusement. “’Cause that’s not crazy!”

I shrug. “It’s not.”

Her grin falls. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“Like a heart attack,” I say and I am. I want a piece of her on me, and I think the idea is golden. May be a tad bit crazy like she said, but that’s how I work.

“We’ll see,” she says, a grin pulling at her lips.

“I want them above my heart,” I declare, and her cheeks warm with color.

She gives me a shocked look, her breathing hitching as she whispers, “That is incredibly romantic.”

“I try, it comes in spurts,” I say offhandedly and she laughs.