Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

“I know you could,” I said, my eyes trailing along the ridges of muscles the blue button-down shirt couldn’t dare hide. “You’re more modern, though. Sharp. Strategic. Less…brutal.”

Nathan planted a fast kiss on my lips, seemingly content with that answer.

We moved along, looking and reading, admiring our way through an ancient progression of Nordic history—Nathan constantly touching, teasing, and kissing me between displays.

Thrilling, powerful, unstoppable.

My lightning strike.

The same electricity I could feel crackling in my blood each time he touched me or said my name. Each time he listened and assessed and challenged me.

My friend.

My boyfriend.

Mine.

For now. That damn voice in my head was super annoying sometimes.

After a couple hours immersed in the history and culture of the place where we first connected, Nathan escorted me up to the third floor, weaving us through a few hallways, a grand lounge, and then onto a terrace.

“Oh, Nathan,” I said, my hand over my mouth. The terrace had been transformed from what I assumed was its usual sleek setting to a romantic one straight out of a movie. Tall, slender outdoor heaters were strategically placed to chase away the chill, and twinkle lights donned the fresh greenery, illuminating the cloth-covered table in a warm glow.

“This is…” Words failed me as I took in the Seattle skyline from the terrace. The Olympic Mountains were near purple as the sun made its final descent, the night sky indigo and inky with stars. Stepping to the railing, I could see the fishing docks and the water lapping lazily toward them. “You’re amazing,” I finally said, spinning to face him, his eyes on me like he’d been watching me the whole time instead of taking in the view.

“I wanted tonight to be special,” he said, the slight dip in his voice saying the words he didn’t. Because it will be our only Valentine’s Day together.

Because he was a Shark, and I was bound for Charleston. Because that is where my dream career awaited me. My own lab. A real one not on a college campus. My own investor whose confidence in me was not only hard-earned, but still in the process of being hard-won, too.

“It’s perfect,” I said, swallowing the truth. That I didn’t want this to be our only Valentine’s Day. That I didn’t want the beautiful Christmas we spent together to be the only one.

But what could I do? What could I say?

Give up the Sharks for me?

No.

I would never. And I know he’d never ask me to give up my dream for him, either.

We…liked and respected each other too much for that nonsense.

“Hungry?” he asked, motioning toward the table in the center of the terrace, two covered plates on either side with flutes of bubbling champagne next to them.

“Absolutely.” I took the seat he pulled out for me, feeling somewhat like I was living in a daydream as he sat across from me, looking like some superhero worthy of the silver screen.

He uncovered the plates and set the lids on an adjacent table, his eyebrows raised.

“You ordered in from Tino’s?” I gaped at the dish before me—my favorite, eggplant parm—from my favorite restaurant in the city.

“Well, someone has told me, on several occasions, that it’s the best Italian in the state.”

I grinned at him, a bite poised before my mouth. “Have I told you that the fact that you’re such a good listener is one of the things I love about you?” I popped the food in my mouth, the words not catching up to my brain until I caught his wide-eyed stare. I swallowed a bit harder than necessary.

“I mean,” I said, trying horribly to recover. “You’re a good listener. And that’s cool?”

He laughed, digging into his pasta, and thankfully, mercifully, not commenting on my blunder.

We weren’t in love.

We couldn’t be.

But…I didn’t have a proper definition for what I felt for the man across from me. Nothing but that connection, that white-hot current between us. My anchor, tethering me to not the real world, but to him.

“If it’s possible,” I said, cleaning my plate after a contented silence. “That tastes better with this view.” I motioned a hand to the skyline, even more stunning now with the city lights twinkling in the night.

“I think you’re right,” he said.

I brought my eyes back to him, and the man was sliding a small black box across the table.

My eyes widened, my heart stopping in my chest before racing. The night—the museum, the romantic terrace dinner—ohmigod.

Excitement and terror swirled in my stomach.

“Nathan,” I said, unable to keep the chiding tone from my lips as I reached for the box he’d set before me. Christmas…we’d gone over this on Christmas…and yet, so much had changed—

He laughed as I popped the lid with trembling fingers.

A beautiful diamond necklace sat inside—a single, small diamond, floating on a near invisible chain of gold. Simple, elegant, perfect.