Page 37 of Wild Pucker

"It is an excellent choice. So, why do you look like you want to hurl all over our expensive desks?"

"Because I'm terrified of heights," I choke out as I give a whole-body shiver.

"Excuse me?" Holly says, confused.

"I'm not a fan of heights."

Avery and Holly share another look. I swear those two can speak telepathically because their faces are saying:

Why would he want to have dinner in a revolving restaurant over one thousand feet above the ground?

Why would he voluntarily strap himself into a bungee suit, walk along a five-foot ledge, and balance over a one-hundred-and-sixteen-story drop?

"Why?" they ask in unison.

"I don't know why. I've just never liked heights. Not rollercoasters. Not cliff jumping. Nothing. Anything over ten feet is too much."

"Not why are you afraid of heights," Avery sighs like I'm the most exasperating person on the planet. "Why do you want to take Lily to one of the tallest buildings in the world if you're scared of heights?"

"Because I want to show her I'm in this for her," I explain. "Lily knows heights aren't my jive. So I'm showing her I'll do anything for her, including facing my worst fears." It's almost true. Heights are my second worst fear. My worst is telling Lily the truth about my past and all the fucked up things I've done and then seeing the disgust on her face.

But I don't tell Holly and Avery that. I just let them grin and coo about my romantic idea as they fawn over the details. Avery suggests we do the Edge Walk before dinner because eating before dangling over the city might not be the best idea I've ever had. They make some calls, and before I know it, everything is ready to go. You usually have to book months in advance for both the restaurant and the walk. But getting preferential treatment comes with being a hockey player in this city. And participating in a dating game with hundreds of thousands of followers doesn't hurt.

I leave the office feeling confident and queasy at the same time. It's too late to change our plans, and I want to show Lily the type of man she makes me want to be.

♥?

After the team hits the ice for the first period, I leave the locker room and start to make my way up to the WAG box. It feels weird not playing. I'm not used to watching my teammates on the ice without me. I feel out of place in my dark blue suit, light purple button-down, and matching striped tie when my team is dressed in their equipment.

We all wear suits to the rink. It's part of the team's and league's game day dress code for all players and coaching staff. Some guys like to have fun with it. Luke and I are two of those guys. We go out of our way to look extra suave when we arrive at the arena. Luke has an astounding assortment of dress suits from solid back to white, plaid, and even deep purple with black swirls. When you get paid top dollar, you can afford a good tailor.

A few of the guys compete with each other for the title of team fashionista. We all like to show off for the camera from time to time, especially when we go to charity events. Ollie and Ozzy have gone above and beyond, clearly wanting to make their presence known. They arrived on day one in matching custom-made suits printed with the Northmen logo. I would never admit this to them, but those suits were fucking cool, and I kind of want one.

"Looking good out there, Wilder," Paddy says while shaking my hand. He's one of the security guards who work the bottom level of the arena where the locker rooms are. He ushers people in and out of the elevators that go to this level. Only a select few have security clearance and keycards to come down here, or go up to the boxes.

"We're trying," I answer back with a smile.

"We're going to go all the way this year," he says with certainty that only Northmen fans have. "We should have had it in June. It was just an unlucky bounce."

I agree, stepping into the elevator, trying to ignore the sting that the memory of that "unlucky bounce" brings back. Grinding it out all the way to game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals, only to lose in overtime when a bouncing puck trickled into the net, is still heartbreaking. We were so close we could taste it. It could have gone either way. It just didn't go ours.

If I'm being honest with myself, both teams deserved to win. Even I can admit St. Louis had an amazing story, equally as good as ours. It was going to be the ending to one of two fairy tales: Toronto wins the Cup and ends a drought that's lasted for over fifty years, or St. Louis wins their first-ever Cup after being the worst team in the league halfway through the season, only to right the ship on the back of a rookie goalie and winning it all.

They won it all.

This year, we'll win it all.

I pause outside the WAG box and spy inside. Holly and Avery are chatting with some of the other players' wives. Now that Holly and Avery are official WAGs, they love to cause a ruckus and instigate general mischief that ultimately leaks into our locker room. Girls talk, and when Holly and Avery overshare all the details of their romantic lives with their new husbands, it makes all the other guys look bad. Jake Owens' wife, April, suggested he start taking her out on more dates or else she'd stop putting out. Ryan and Luke laughed and told Jake he didn't need to go out on dates because he's always too busy getting busy and making babies. April's already popped out two kids that the team likes to spoil. The oldest is an adorable girl who wears princess dresses, and the youngest is a boy with the bluest eyes you've ever seen on a kid. It's obvious he doesn't have an issue with his wife putting out.

I scan the rest of the box looking for Lily and spot her sitting next to Holly's sister Taylor, another SASS minion. For some reason, it suddenly strikes me how close-knit we all are. SASS and the team have woven together seamlessly. We are a family, whether related by blood or not.

I stroll into the box, some wives nudging each other and winking. I wink back, making my way to Lily. When she turns and her eyes meet mine, a blinding smile stretches over her face, and my breath catches.

"Taylor," I say with a nod as Holly's half-sister politely excuses herself and vacates the seat next to Lily. "Lily," I greet her, casually leaning in and brushing a kiss over her lips. The box goes suspiciously silent all of a sudden as if everyone has become more interested in us than the game. "Mind if I watch with you?"

"Of course not. It will be just like old times.” She grins, patting the seat beside her. "We'll watch, and I'll tell you everything Luke is doing wrong."

"I don't know why the Starlings don't put you behind the bench instead of Coach McCall. You can be our cook and coach."

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