Page 78 of The Sweetest Risk

“Wait– youboughtit? Tristan, that’s insane. What if it fails? What if…”

Before I have the chance to completely spiral with all the what-ifs, Tristan grabs my hand and says, “Come on, let’s go inside.”

He pulls out a set of keys from his jeans pocket and unlocks the door. It’s completely dark when we walk into the empty space. Tristan walks toward the back of the building and plugs in a cord. Twinkle lights turn on overhead and I see a checkered blanket in the middle of the concrete floor. There is a cake standfull of cupcakes and a present wrapped up with a pretty pink bow.

“What is this?” I smile and the tears come back. I walk toward the blanket and point accusingly, “And where did those cupcakes come from? I sure as hell didn’t bake them.”

“Will you just sit down?”

I cross my arms and stick out my hip. “Nope. Not until you tell me where you got these second-rate cupcakes from.”

Tristan laughs, shakes his head and picks one of the cupcakes up. “Just try one.”

“No! I am kind of pissed off right now. How dare you cheat on my cupcakes. You have a lot of ner..”

Tristan smashes the chocolate cupcake into my mouth. “God, you are still the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. Can I talk now please?”

I am about to spit out the traitor’s cupcake but realize it tastes familiar. I chew a little more and look up at Tristan, who smugly has his arms crossed. He raises his eyebrows, silently telling me, “I told you just to try one.”

I wipe my lips and lick any remnants of cupcake off my finger.

“I made them for you, Cupcake. It’s your recipe.” I must have not wiped off all of the cupcake from my face because Tristan uses his thumb to get the rest.

I’m utterly speechless. Tristan has never baked anything in his life. Don’t get me wrong, I have learned that he is an amazing cook, but baking is not his forte.

“These are actually pretty good, Hot Shot.”

“Well I practiced my baking on the down-low. Kind of like what you did with learning how to ice skate. The guys won’t stop giving me shit about it in the locker room but hey they aren’t complaining about all the trial cupcakes I’ve brought in forthem.” Now his face is turning red. “I wanted them to be perfect. So, what do you think? Did I succeed?”

I bend down and grab another one from the platter. I tisk, “Pretty close to perfect. Here, try them for yourself.” I smash the cupcake in his mouth and laugh.

“Mmm.” His tongue licks the sides of his mouth, almost in a seductive manner. “Well I will admit that they aren’t as good as yours, but at least they don’t taste completely like salt.”

I push against his chest and he doesn’t budge one bit. I swear this man is made of marble. “If it was so disgusting, why did you eat it all?”

“Like I told you the night I confessed my true feelings for you: I wanted to make a good impression. That cupcake was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, but I would eat an infinite amount of them if that means I can end up right here with you.”

Tristan grazes my lips with his fingertips and kisses me, lightly, delicately, in a way that is so uncharacteristic of Tristan. Something else is on his mind. He’s distracted. Maybe it’s the upcoming season. He is the captain now, after all. It’s a lot of responsibility. I take the reins and grab the hair along the nape of his neck, pull him closer to me and kiss him harder. Whatever he is worried about, I want to assure him that it’s going to be okay. My hands then start to travel down to the hem of his shirt and I begin to lift it.

His hands stop my progress and he breaks the kiss first. “Wait.”

My eyebrows raise out of pure shock. “Is Tristan Lawson hitting the pause button on sexy time? What has gotten into you?”

He picks up the wrapped gift. “I have another surprise for you, Cupcake.”

I take the box from his enormous hands and shake it, trying to figure out what it is.

“That’s not going to help.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.” I pull on one corner of the bow. “You are just full of surprises tonight, Lawson.”

I rip the wrapping paper off and open the top part of the box. All I see is a kelly green Storm jersey with number 92 stitched on the arms. I kneel down and set the box on the ground and pull out the jersey. It’s literally the same one I already have. How is this a surprise? I decide to fake it to spare his feelings. “Wow! Tristan! This is so nice. I was just thinking that I needed a duplicate of the jersey I already have. You know, in case I spill something on it, or, um, it’s in the wash or something when I need to wear it. Thank you, babe!”

Tristan kneels down in front of me. “It’s not a duplicate, Brooke.”

I huff out a laugh and hold the jersey up in front of me to inspect it further. “Tristan, I hate to break it to you, but this is the exact same jers…” I turn the jersey around so now I am looking at the back. Above the large number 92 I see the name:Mrs. Lawson.

My heart starts beating really fast. I drop the jersey and gaze at the man who is kneeling right in front of me. We are finally at the same level. No games. No trying to one-up the other. No hate. In fact, just the opposite.

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