Page 36 of One Pucking Heart

When he pulls away, I ask, “You know we’re not being watched right now. I doubt my father’s PI flew to Vegas to crash our wedding.”

He smirks. “You never know. Gotta be safe. Plus, paparazzi could get a shot of us, and if they do we want to give them a good one.”

My eyes widen. “We have to worry about paparazzi?”

“Sometimes. It goes with the territory of marrying an NHL god,” he teases, and I smack his chest.

“Would you stop? I don’t think your head can get any bigger.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s not a compliment.” I chuckle.

He offers me his elbow, and I slide my arm through his. As we make our way out of the restaurant and onto the cobblestone streets of faux Italy, he says, “Don’t worry, paparazzi isn’t a huge problem. I was teasing about that. We’ll get them occasionally. I’m known to hockey fans, but I’m not famous as far as the rest of the world is concerned. They have more high-profile people to stalk than me.”

“Oh good. That makes me feel better.”

As if the powers to be wanted to slap me with a giant reality call, someone yells, “Beckett Feldmore!” We turn to find a man, probably in his forties, waving. “Is that you?”

I pull my arm from Beckett’s, and he extends his arms out, palms up. “The one and only. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jim. Man, I thought it was you, but my wife told me I was crazy. We live right outside of Detroit and get to a few home games a year. I just knew that was you. How’s the knee? You going to be ready for the season?”

Beckett gives the man his classic easy grin. “The knee is great, Jim. Almost back to a hundred percent. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready.”

“Oh good.” The man beams. “That’s great to hear.” He looks back at his wife and waves her forward. “Honey, come on, let’s get a picture,” he says before addressing Beckett. “You don’t mind taking a picture with us, do you?”

“Of course not.” Beckett waves them both forward. “Bring it in.”

The wife scurries over, wearing an anxious grin. The man hands me his cell phone with the camera app open, and he and his wife stand on either side of Beckett. I snap a handful of pictures and give the phone back.

“Thank you,” the fan says to me before returning his attention to Beckett. “Thank you so much. You’re the best Crane player there is. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Beckett gives them a wave, a broad smile on his face. “Great meeting you, Jim. I’ll see you at some games this season. Have a wonderful time in Vegas.”

“You, too. Thank you!” The man and his wife stare at the pictures I took on his phone, talking excitedly among themselves as we walk away.

Beckett continues to wear a goofy grin as we distance ourselves from the fan and his wife.

“Oh, you just loved that, didn’t you?” I chuckle with a shake of my head.

He shrugs before taking my hand in his. “As I said…” With his free hand, he brings his thumb to his chest. “A big deal.”

“You’re insufferable.”

We stroll down the cobblestone path along the canal. I look into the shops and admire the fantastic details of the place. I always thought of Vegas as the city of sin—sex, drugs, and gambling. But now I see the appeal. This place is stunning. I love it here.

“What are the other hotels like?” I ask.

“Oh, they’re great. They all have a theme of some sort. It’s real fun to visit them all and just walk around. We could do that this weekend. There’s one that makes you feel like you’re in Paris, and one modeled after New York City, one is modeled after Rome, another has amazing art. They all kind of bring something special to the table. Oh, we could walk over to the Bellagio fountain. It looks cool at night with different lights.”

“That all sounds fun. Yeah, let’s visit them all tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The day has been perfect. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that Beckett and I are married or that everything has been wonderful and romantic, but I’m feeling things I shouldn’t. I’m so attracted to Beckett right now that I can’t stop thinking about what his body would feel like pressed against mine.

Whoa.

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