Page 78 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
Clément bows, rushes back on stage, and then looks toward me through the crowd.
And he smiles like he just won the lottery.
Ashlyn clears her throat, trying to bring some semblance of order back to the room. “Well, Maple Falls, that was certainly unexpected. Let’s give a big round of applause for our very own Frenchie, Clément Rivière! Now let’s keep the energy going for our next bachelor, Weston Smith!”
The spotlight swings as Weston steps onto the stage, waving with the casual charm of someone who’s very aware of his rolled-up sleeves and rakish smirk.
Not that I care, because Clément is walking straight toward me.
The noise dulls to a hum, like I’m underwater. I blink rapidly, heart pounding like I’ve sprinted a mile. I sit up straighter, unsure whether to run or anchor myself to the folding chair with all my might.
He’s weaving through the crowd, offering polite smiles and nods, one hand tucked in the pocket of his perfectly tailored trousers, the other curled into a small fist.
He stops just in front of my chair. Everyone around us is watching Weston—thankfully—but a few eyes flick toward us, a murmur of curiosity starting to build.
“Marcy,” he says, voice low enough that it’s for me alone.
“Yes?” I hate how breathless I sound.
He holds something small between his fingers, glinting under the overhead lights.
He reaches for my hand and places the object in my palm. It’s metal, light, and circular.
I glance down. It’s a coin, or no, not quite. A token.
“It says Paris Métro,” I read aloud from the worn embossing.
He nods his head once. “It’s a metro token. They are obsolete now, but I kept this one because I love what it reminds me of. I carried it with me when I moved here. And if you’ll be its temporary owner, I would love to give my date with myself… to you.” His face scrunches up. “That sounded much better in my head.”
“You want to give yourself to me?” The words reach my own ears. “Okay, that sounded weird, too.”
He laughs and then looks nervous. “Do you accept? As the rules say, whatever you want is what we’ll do.”
This man is showing me so many different sides to himself within an hour that my head is spinning. Though the answer is already clear. “I accept.”
He closes my fingers around it. “No games. Just me.”
Before I can say anything else, before I can even process the strange warmth blooming in my chest, he turns and melts back into the crowd, leaving the scent of his cologne and the coin in my palm.
CHAPTER 28
CLÉMENT
Ihold my spot in the crease. It’s a regular practice and I’m in my net. My second home. Even if last night’s bachelor auction nearly knocked me sideways, this practice should be like any other.
But I can’t concentrate.
First, I finally cornered the mayor after the auction. At last, I was going to get an answer about my permit.
Except it wasn’t the answer I wanted.
“You’re going to have to wait until we figure out this billionaire problem,” Mayor Thompkins said. “That house is the MacDonald house, as you heard tonight, and it may very well get pulled out from under you if this heir makes his claim.”
I might lose the house before I even really have it.
Cade sends a puck my way, high into the corner, but I swat it back easily. The rest of the team scrimmages at the other end of the ice.
That gives me time to think about Marcy’s text this morning.
