Page 56 of Pucked In Vegas

"That's..." She shakes her head, tears threatening. "That's a terrible career move."

"Good thing I've got the body to be a decent underwear model. Or…"

"...Or a cult leader," Cassie finishes, a grin spreading across her face. "Remember?"

I laugh, the memory hitting me like one of those shots of tequila. "Yes. You asked if I was joining a cult or a sports team."

"And I said I hoped it wasn't sports because—"

"—because you hate sweaty men," I finish for her.

The crowd around us laughs, though they have no idea what we're talking about. This moment is just for us, even with a thousand people watching.

"I still hate sweaty men," she says, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. "But I might make an exception for you."

"How generous."

I set her down gently, my hands still at her waist. The crowd has fallen silent again, hanging on our every word.

"So what are you saying, Cassie Hawthorne?" I can't help the hope that creeps into my voice. "Or is it Cassie Holt now?"

She looks up at me, those ice-blue eyes melting.

"I'm saying I want to try. For real this time. No running away, no hiding who we are." She glances over at her father, who's watching us with an unreadable expression. "Even if it means dealing with my dad throwing pucks at your head during family dinners."

"Well… I'm a hockey player. Luckily I'm pretty good at dodging," I remind her, pulling her closer. "Cassie… I don't care where we live, what your last name is, or what team I play for," I tell her, cupping her face in my hands. "You're it for me, baby."

"You're such a sap," she whispers, but her eyes are shining. "But you're my sap."

When I kiss her, it's nothing like our drunken Vegas kiss. Nothing like our desperate, lustful hotel room encounters.

It's a beginning. A promise. A declaration.

From the crowd, I hear Keller's distinctive whistle and Donovan's booming "THAT'S OUR BOY!" They're standing on their chairs, pumping their fists in the air like they just won the Stanley Cup.

In this moment, on stage for the world to see, our entire future stretches before us.

It's unwritten, messy and uncertain.

But one thing I know for sure…

Who needs a fairy tale... when Vegas gives you the best damn happily ever after you never saw coming?

Epilogue

Cassie

Six Months Later

The setting sun paints Iron Ridge in amber and gold as we cross the town limits. I've got my heels kicked off, feet up on Jackson's dashboard, scrolling through congratulatory texts about my latest client win.

"And then when the bride's father said he wanted elephants for the ceremony, I thought Natasha was going to faint," I laugh, still riding the high of landingHawthorne Events' biggest client yet—a Hollywood power couple with a private island and an unlimited budget. "But I just smiled and said, 'We can absolutely make that happen, but have you considered trained dolphins instead?'"

Jackson chuckles, one hand on the wheel, the other resting possessively on my thigh. "And that's why you're the best in the business, baby."

"The dolphins are much more environmentally friendly," I add. "Plus, way more Instagram-worthy."

"Mmm-hmm." His fingers inch higher beneath my skirt, the hum of the Range Rover groaning around us.

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