Page 62 of Power Play

“Hey, Harp,” he says. “I got you something.”

She wriggles out of my dad’s arms and runs to him, snatching the bag out of his hands.

“Hey—” I go to correct her, but she shouts, “Thank you!” before I can.

She pulls out the tissue paper and takes out the cutest little Levi Buck jersey I’ve ever seen. He takes it and spins it around to show her his name on the back.

“Do you know what that says?” he asks. She shakes her head. “That says ‘Buck.’ That’s my name. This is a jersey just like the one I wear. I wanted to see if you would wear this tomorrow and be my good luck charm. What do you think? You can sit right behind the ice. What do you say?”

She looks at it, then looks up at him. Then she tugs it on over her head, backward.

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him on the cheek.

“Okay,”she says with a smile. “But I also wanna wear it now!” she says, trotting away through the kitchen. He stands up and smiles at me.

“She looks so cute,” he says. I nod.

“She does. And she will never take that off,” I tell him. “Thank you.” He waves his hand.

“Thankyou,”he says, and then he looks at Dad. “All of you. Now I’ll have family there.”

That hits me like a bullet.

Until he came back into my life, and into our lives, he wouldn’t have had anyone at his

last NHL game. No one. I slink my hand into his instinctively.

If it’s up to me, he’ll never have no one again.

We say our goodbyes, get in the car, and head down to D.C.

An hour or so later, we’re weaving through D.C. traffic until we pull up to a big hotel that he says is a few blocks away from the arena. I believe him. For someone who grew up less than forty minutes from the nation’s capital, I’ve spent frightfully little time here. The valet takes our tickets, and Levi gets our bags. We check in and walk toward the elevator, and as soon as the doors close, I’m on him like white on rice.

He drops one of the bags, smiling and moaning as I kiss him, running my fingers through his hair. Maybe it was the combo of him making my daughter fall in love with him, and him telling me he loved me, and him having his game tomorrow, but I have to have him—like now.

But as the doors ding and open, he smiles.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, bending down to pick up my bags, "but we have to put a pin in that.”

I raise an eyebrow, following him out the elevator doors as he leads me down the hall toward our room. He swipes the badge and holds the door open, and my jaw drops when we get inside. It’s another massive suite—even nicer than the first one we stayed in together—with a crazy view of the city. I can see all the monuments, planes landing at the airport, people walking around the streets below. I’m so busy staring out at the view that I don’t even notice the massage tables set up in the sitting area. When I finally see them, I turn to him.

“What…what’s going on?” I ask him, eyebrow raised. He smiles, setting our bags down on the dresser.

“You’re gonna get spoiled tonight, pretty girl,” he says, tugging me in by my waist and kissing me. He kisses my lips, my cheek, and sinks down to my neck, making me giggle and fold inward like a limp noodle. “You spend so much time taking care of the people around you that you pause anything that’s for you and stick it on the back burner. But tonight, that’s not an option.”

Just then, there’s a knock on our door, and he smiles.

“Right on time,” he says, walking toward the door. “Go get naked.” I smile and shake my head, walking toward the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I’m overwhelmed. He’s not wrong. I don’t take a whole lot of time for myself, so when it’s forced on me, I’m not quite sure what to do with it. Just as I’m taking in a deep breath, the door opens, and he steps inside, closing it behind him.

“Thought you could use some help,” he says, tugging his shirt off over his head. I could stare at his bare chest all freakin’ day. His tattoos are a welcome distraction to all the crowded thoughts in my head. He reaches down for the hem of my tank top and lifts it up over my arms gently. He tosses it on the counter and then reaches around and unhooks my bra. He bends down to kiss my shoulder, my neck, and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth for just a second, making me gasp and arch back. “Easy, sweet baby,” he whispers. “There will be plenty of time for that.” I keep my eyes closed as he finishes undressing both of us. Then he grabs one of the folded robes off the sink and hands it to me. We both put them on, and then he takes my hand and leads me out into the suite. The massage therapists are all set up, waiting by the tables.

They motion for us to lie down and turn their backs while we disrobe.

“Do you have a preference for the type?” my therapist asks me, bending down toward my ear.

“Oh, uh…” I say.

“Can we both just do Swedish?” Levi says, looking over at me with a quick wink and a smile. He knows I’ve never had a massage. He knows I wouldn’t know. And he knows not knowing would make me anxious.

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