Page 83 of Wyatt

“Sure looks like it. I practically begged you to leave with me—”

“I told you I couldn’t, and now you know it was for Mikka’s safety.”

“It seems like it was about spite. Paying me back for breaking your heart.”

“Seriously? Wow, you think I’m that person?”

“No! Or, yes.I don’t know.I came back to that hotel room with flowers and another stinkin’ marriage proposal in my head and you were gone. Vanished.”

“If you were so brokenhearted, why didn’t you say anything? You know it’s been me on the hockey forum—”

“Pride.”

She stared at him. He looked away, his expression wretched.

“I thought you didn’t want me. But I couldn’t stop talking to you. Holding out hope. I think somehow I got it in my head that you were in trouble. And…then you were.”

Then she was.

And he’d come running to save her. Only to discover…Mikka.Oh, Wyatt.

His voice softened, and he looked at her, his beautiful eyes glossy. “Cookie, if I could, I’d start all over with you. Do things right. Honor us both.”

She drew in her breath, needing to know the truth. “Wyatt. Do you…do you like Mikka?”

His mouth opened. Closed. He swallowed, and a tear dripped onto his cheek. “He’s amazing,” he said, his voice shaking. “He’s so amazing I can hardly breathe around him. I’m crazy about him, Cookie.” He reached out and took her hands. “Thank you.”

She frowned.

“Thank you for keeping him safe. For taking care of him. For not…for not doing the easy thing and…” He shook his head. “Thank you for having him. I promise you will never be alone in this again. I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She wiped her hand across her cheek. “I’m so afraid you’re going to get hurt…that you’re both going to die because of me.”

“And I’m so afraid that if I close my eyes, when I open them you’ll be gone.”

She let a beat pass. “Then maybe you should lock the door.”

Another beat. Then a small, sweet smile hinted up his face. “It’s already locked.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said. “I’m a goaltender. My job is to foresee trouble and stop it.”

Huh. Maybe he could keep her safe.

He slowly dropped to his knees before her, between the two seats. “I’m not going to get hurt, Cookie.” He took her face in his hands. “Have you not met me? I’m the tough one of the Marshall family.”

She took his face in her hands. That beautiful, amazing, handsome face.

He might have seen trouble coming, but it had found its way into the compartment anyway. “No, Wyatt. You’re the softie.”

Then she kissed him.

Wyatt. Sweet, romantic Wyatt, who wore his heart outside his body, despite his tough act. He tasted of coffee and a husky, deep familiarity that she could never forget. But instead of swooping her into his arms, he kept the kiss gentle, calm, his mouth tender against hers. Maybe because she was trembling.

Or maybe because he was.

He leaned back then and met her eyes. “In case you’re wondering, tonight’s a no. Because wearestarting over, Coco. But I am going to find a way to wedge myself onto that couch and hold you.”

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