Page 16 of Stick With Me
We both ignore him and keep walking, but then Jace’s hand grips Ryan’s arm, tugging us to a stop. Ryan spins around to face him, his eyes narrowing as he shrugs Jace’s hand off his shoulder.
“I wasn’t done talking to her,” Jace says, his voice low with irritation.
“Well, I think Hannah was done talking to you,” Ryan responds, calm but firm. I nod in agreement, but Jace doesn’t even glance at me, locking his glare on Ryan.
“You’re speaking for her now?” Jace challenges.
“Nah, I’m not you.”
Jace finally shifts his attention to me. “Hannah, can I have a word?”
“No, like I told you, we’re done talking.”
His gaze shifts to Ryan’s hand resting on the back of my neck in silent support. He shakes his head before turning and walking off in the opposite direction.
Ryan guides me toward the locker rooms, but when he doesn’t stop at the doorway, I dig my heels in, bringing us both to a halt. He turns to me, eyebrows raised.
“I can’t go in there,” I say, through a laugh.
He’s been a man on a mission, silent on the short walk here. He looks around like he’s just now noticing our surroundings. We’re blocking the entrance, causing players to skirt around us to exit the locker room. Ryan’s brows lower as he looks down at me. “I can’t leave you out here alone.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Ryan isn’t in full gear, so it shouldn’t take him long to change. I just hope Jace doesn’t change his mind and come back this way. I glance down the hallway, tension tightening my stomach, before turning my gaze back to Ryan.
His features shift, resolve settling over him. I expect him to leave me here. Instead, he bends down, brings my belly to his shoulder, and hoists me up.
“Put me down!” I shriek, hanging awkwardly against his back.
“Don’t look around.” He proceeds to carry me into the room. I can’t see anything beyond the back of his red jersey. After a few strides—and some puzzled remarks from players in various stages of undress—the room comes into focus as he sets me down on a bench with a cubby behind it. Yep, I’m in the locker room. My cheeks heat, and I keep my eyes on the caveman standing in front of me.
It’s not a terrible view. Made even better when he pulls the jersey over his head, revealing a strong, muscled chest. His hand gently grasps my jaw, closing my momentarily gaped mouth. “Like what you see?” he asks with a smirk. Reaching behind me, he pulls a shirt free from the locker.
When my brain finally comes out of the gutter and back online, I slap his firm abs. “Never been in one of these. I’ve been missing out,” I taunt.
I look around for more eye candy, just to annoy him. But before I can fully turn my head to survey the room, he cups my face. “Don’t even think about it.”
I bat my lashes and give my bestwho me?smile. He chuckles and reaches behind me, pulling out two sweatshirts like a magician with a bottomless hat. What else does he have stashed in there? Suddenly, a soft fleece wraps around me, momentarily obscuring my vision as the scent of pine and citrus surrounds me. When I can see again, he’s tugging the hood over my head, gently adjusting it so it frames my face just right. “There, now you have blinders. You can only see me,” he says, laughter in his voice.
“You’re all I ever see.” I mean it to come off jokingly, but it sounds like flirting, even to my ears. It’s confirmed by his shy smile.
“Where are we off to now?” I ask from the passenger’s side of the Jeep. On our way out of the arena, Ryan told me he planned something for us this afternoon, but he has yet to spill where we’re going.
He looks over at me and smiles. “Here, give me the sweatshirt. You must be burning up now that we’re outside.”
I am, it’s like a sauna in here. I don’t want to ruin the sweatshirt’s scent with my sweaty one, but it’s oddly comforting to be wrapped in it. Reluctantly, I remove it and hand it to him, but maintain my grip on it. “It’s mine now, though, so you have to give it back.”
He laughs. “Okay, deal.”
“So, where are we going?” I ask again, pressing the button to open the roof. Ryan complains it’s hot, but this is probably the best weather we get all year.
“I found this place for airboat tours in the Everglades. We’re going to see some gators, Sunshine,” he says excitedly.
“You’ve never seen an alligator?”
“Nope, I’m a Midwestern boy, remember?”
“How could I forget? Are we going to get some pop on the way there, too? Maybe a pit stop at a crick?” I try to hold back my laughter, but it slips out anyway. Secretly, I like his Midwestisms, as I call them.Butit’s definitely soda, not pop.
