Page 36 of Stick Fight

“None.” His dimples pop, and yeah, there go my ovaries.

I stare at him, incredulous. “You really think I’m leaving the room in that?”

“Of course.”

“You know.” I cup my elbow in my palm and tap my chin. “I’m beginning to believe you like dressing up. I think you offered a couple times to wear my wedding dress.”

“I offered once. The second time you wanted me to wear it so you could cut it up. So really, I think it might be you who likes me dressing up.”

I laugh. “Yeah, that must be it.”

He gestures towards the other room where my dress is laid out. “I like what you did with it. It’s definitely more you.”

I nod, but honestly though he might have known Gabby from high school, I’m a different version of myself now. I’m not even sure that’s a good thing.

“This is what you and Rip did with your time on the strip?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. What do you think, really though? It’ll get you out of the room tonight.” He sits next to me again, his hand on my leg. “I’d love to celebrate New Year’s Eve with you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Okay, I’ll stay in with you then.”

“No. You’re not doing that.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Fine then. You have no choice but to wear this and watch the fireworks with me.”

“Ohmigod, you just played me. You knew I wouldn’t allow that.” I bow my head. “I am so easy.”

“Nah, you’re not easy. You’re kind and there is a difference. But I get it. If you don’t want to take a chance, you don’t have to go.” He tugs the wig off and scratches his head. “Maybe this was a stupid idea.”

My heart pinches tight. This was actually so incredibly sweet of him, and thoughts of watching the fireworks with him sounds really amazing. “Let me try it on.”

His eyes go wide with hope as he cocks his head and grins, those damn adorable dimples on full display. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hand it over.” He tugs the dress off, still in his dress clothes underneath. My fingers grip the hem of my T-shirt, and his gaze follows the movement like he’s tracking a puck.

“Um, can you turn around?”

He arches a brow. “Really, Gabs? I’ve seen you naked.”

“This is different.” It’s not, but in the light of day it somehow feels different.

A beat and then, “Sure.” He gestures with a nod to the living room. “I brought back pastries if you’re hungry. Come model it for me when you’re done.” He disappears into the other room, and I hurry out of the T-shirt and into the one-size-fits-all—including big hockey players—house gown, or whatever it is they call it. I chuckle at my reflection, topping it off with the wig before stepping into the other room. Roman is sitting on the sofa, long legs stretched out, looking comfortable and way too hot.

I prance across the room, my damn legs weak under his heated gaze.

“I like what I see.” He cracks a water bottle, his eyes darkening with something that makes my stomach flutter.

I laugh and roll my eyes. “If my grandmother could see me now.”

“She’s a Roper fan, too? Or will she think you lost your mind in Vegas?”

“Yes to both, and I’m happy to know that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Except me. I’m not staying in Vegas. I’m going to Boston. Holy. It’s crazy how life can change in a breath.

He crooks his finger. “Get your sweet ass over here.”

“If you try to seduce me in this, Roman, there’s going to be a lot of questions.” He laughs out loud and it’s so contagious I join him as I step toward him.

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