Page 38 of Rookie Season
Jay goes in the door first. The branches are covered with snow, and as we get the tree inside, snow flicks off the branches and onto the floor.
Chloe screeches. “You’re making a mess!”
“It’s worth it, Chlo,” I say.
The inside of the cabin is cozy after the chill from outside.
Not going to lie, Ryan picked a good spot. When he proposed sneaking away for a couple days before the Christmas game, it seemed like an easy idea. But the small cabin, as tricked out as it is, was not what I expected.
I’m starting to appreciate it.
“You couldn’t get something smaller?” Chloe demands as we carry the tree to the corner.
“This is the one,” Ryan insists.
I know the feeling. When you know, you know.
My gaze lands on the woman curled up by the fire in a pink sweater and shiny yoga pants, my dog in her lap and a magazine spread in front of her.
Brooke has been it for me since almost the second I laid eyes on her.
I’ve known her since college. I got drafted partway through and she was just starting, but because I played near her school, her brother asked me to look out for her.
Being Jay’s teammate and best friend made it forbidden as hell that I had a thing for her.
Her warm eyes, her drive, her sense of humor. Her killer curves and the way she dances. I love everything about her.
“Whatcha reading, Princess?”
There’s a stack of wedding magazines on the table next to her, so I know what she’s got, but I want to see it for myself.
Now, the big diamond on her finger is evidence of the fact I shake myself with when I wake up every morning: Brooke agreed to marry me.
It’s going to be the perfect ending to our story… if she’d only agree to a date.
I lean over the spread and eye the pages, expecting to see wedding dresses and flower arrangements. I was glad to see she brought a bunch of magazines with her and hoped she’d use this time to settle on some decisions. She’s the one into design and fashion, and it makes her happy, so I’ll get my girl anything she wants.
“What the…? Cookies?” I ask, surprised to see baked goods on the pages rather than white gowns and flowers.
“And coffee cakes.” She thumbs through the pages with silver holiday-decorated nails.
“Since when do you bake?”
“I’m an excellent window shopper.”
“I thought you were looking at wedding stuff.”
Brooke lowers the magazine. “I am looking at those things.”
She cocks her head at me. In her lap, my Frenchie mimics her.
God, she’s got him wrapped around her finger.
I lean on the chair and bend down, brushing my lips over hers. When she softens, my hand tangles in her hair and I kiss her deeper.
“When are you tying the knot?” Atlas calls.
I pull back, waiting on her to answer.
