Page 108 of Wild Blades

Kali

In the living room, Lola lists everything she’s folded neatly into an overnight bag for Wade. “I put two of everything in there, just in case.” The way she smiles and looks between us doesn’t go unnoticed. “And I packed your favorite cologne, two pairs of Chucks. Black and white, or black and white. It was a difficult choice.” She’s as sarcastic as ever.

“Have you two been conspiring?” Wade waggles his finger between us.

“No.” Lola shakes her head at the same time I say, “Never.” When we are both lying. Wade’s limited color choice when it comes to clothing has become a running joke between us.

I like Lola. She’s a chatterbox most of the time, efficient, and already has most of Wade’s personal belongings packed into moving boxes.

Spotting my bruises, she was concerned about my well-being and asked if I needed anything. I reassured her I was okay, then told her I was attacked last night, and Wade was there to help, which was the only reason I could think to explain the reason he was standing practically naked in my home on a Saturday morning.

It was a slant on the whole truth, but it was as close to the story I was willing to tell.

Not seeming to care that he’s standing in only a pair of boxers, Wade pulls out his wallet that he didn’t take with him last night from the bag he asked Lola to deliver. The guy walks about like a peacock most of the time. I guess he has every right to be proud of the body he works hard to achieve, and I appreciate Lola for not ogling him. She never does.

She’s respectful and discreet when it comes to Wade and his life.

Marcus informed me she came from a position within the admin team, which makes her perfect for the role.

“This is yours.” He hands Lola a credit card. “You left it on the desk in the suite. You have a super fancy name, Gladiola-Grace Ramsay.” He puts on a fake British accent, which is truly awful.

Her eyes blow wide, and she snatches it from Wade’s clutches, which is odd of her. Usually a picture of professionalism, something happened in that moment.

Wade’s brows pull together. “It’s a pretty name. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Huffing, she opens her purse and throws her credit card into it. “My mother must have hated me. I loathe that name. My dad called me Lola, which is short for Gladiola. It’s what everyone calls me. I’d appreciate it if you forgot you saw that.”

Wade holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Shoulders tense, I’ve never seen her act like this before and I can’t understand why us knowing her full name would upset her in the way it did.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s just… well… I’m sorry.” Lola sighs, looking regretful. “Please forgive me.”

Knowing families are complicated, I jump in and change the course of the conversation. “So,” I grab her attention. “Would you and Graham like to come to the game with me tomorrow afternoon? You haven’t been to one yet.”

“Really?” She beams at me and then at Wade. “I’ve never been to a game before.”

“You’ll love it.” I’m kicking myself for never having been to one before I started working with Wade... fucking Wade… nope… definitely started working with Wade first.

Watching Wade play turns me on. His power, speed, and agility across the ice are an aphrodisiac. I may have used my vibrator one or two times after coming home from a game.Okay, that’s a lie, everytime I went to one.

“I know you thought Jordy was hot when he dropped by my hotel suite the other day. You can have a photograph taken with him after the game if you want.” Wade winks at her.

“Shut up.” She blushes. “I might be taken, but I have eyes. I’m not made of stone.”

Jordy is a good-looking guy. They all are. I should be talent scouting at sports arenas and not trawling social media for the next big thing. Sportsmen hit different. And if they are anything like Wade, they can hit your cervix better too.

I feel hot all over suddenly and track my eyes down Wade’s body as he and Lola banter with one another.

That man is fine. Mighty freaking fine.

“Don’t you think, Kali?” Wade bursts the little pink happy cloud I’m floating along on.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, confused.

“Doesn’t matter.” He grins. “She hasn’t eaten yet. She’s probably dreaming about waffles and bacon.”

I wasn’t, but I am now, with Wade as the platter.

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