Page 36 of The Hockey Pact

"Well, this is... atmospheric," Riley murmured, still holding my hand beneath the tablecloth.

"Very romantic," I agreed, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. "Diane probably arranged the power outage for maximum publicity value."

Riley laughed. "I wouldn't put it past her. Your agent is terrifyingly competent."

"That's putting it mildly." I shifted in my chair to face her more directly. "Having fun?"

"Surprisingly, yes." She smiled. "The hockey wives are funny and smart and surprisingly normal."

"As opposed to the hockey players, who are unfunny, dumb, and abnormal?"

"I didn't say that," she protested, but her eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Although now that you mention it..."

I clutched my chest in mock offense. "Wounded by my own wife."

"You'll survive." She reached up to straighten my slightly askew tie, her fingers brushing against my collar in a casualintimacy. "Though your tie might not. How do you always manage to mess it up within an hour of putting it on?"

"It's a gift," I said, enjoying her closeness. "Some guys have slap shots; I have tie-mangling."

The auction began shortly after dinner concluded. Riley's cooking lesson package ignited an unexpected bidding war, eventually selling for an amount that made her gasp beside me.

"Ten thousand dollars? For cooking lessons with me?" she whispered incredulously.

"Told you experiences go over big," I whispered back, squeezing her hand. "People know quality when they see it."

I applauded loudly when she was acknowledged as the donor, feeling an irrational surge of pride at her success.

Later, as the formal portion of the evening transitioned to dancing, I found myself hesitating. Riley had never seen me dance, and there was a reason for that—namely, that I danced like someone having a mild seizure.

"You okay?" Riley asked, noticing my reluctance as couples began moving toward the dance floor.

"Full disclosure," I said, leaning close to her ear, "I'm a terrible dancer. Like, embarrassingly bad. Max has video evidence he threatens to release whenever he wants something from me."

She laughed. "What a coincidence. I'm awful too. We can be terrible together."

We made our way to the dance floor, and to my surprise, we moved together easily.

I pulled her closer than strictly necessary, inhaling the light floral scent of her perfume. With her heels, Riley's facewas level with my collar, and I was acutely aware of her breath warming my skin.

When she looked up at me, something in her expression made my chest tighten. The moment stretched between us, filled with unspoken possibilities.

"Mind if I cut in?" Max appeared beside us, tapping my shoulder with exaggerated formality. "I'd like to dance with the captain's better half."

Riley smiled, stepping back. "Sure, as long as you promise not to step on my toes."

"My dear Riley," Max said, taking her hand, "I am a far superior dancer to your husband. Prepare to be amazed."

I reluctantly released her, watching as Max led her away, already making her laugh with whatever ridiculous thing he was saying.

"They seem to be getting along better," Diane observed, appearing beside me.

"Who?" I asked, still watching Riley.

"Max and Zoe," Diane clarified, nodding toward the bar where Zoe had just arrived to deliver something to Riley. Max immediately spotted her and changed direction mid-dance, steering Riley toward her friend. "Though that wasn't actually what I meant to discuss."

I tore my gaze away from the trio. "What's up?"

Diane studied me for a moment. "Are you two not acting anymore?"

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