Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

And I was suddenly aware of how desperate I was for him to keep that promise.

Chapter 9

Noble

She’d worn my jersey.

Sure, that was a normal thing for girlfriends to do, but she wasn’t my real girlfriend. Or at least she hadn’t agreed to be, anyway. Seeing her against the glass, tablet in hand, wearing a Sharks jersey with my name across her back felt like a giant fuck-you to any guy in the stands who’d been staring at my girl.

And shit, there I went again, claiming her when she’d made it clear she wasn’t down for a claiming.

It had been a week since I’d kissed her in her parents’ garden. A week since she’d taken my hand and walked into dinner like we were an actual couple. A week since I’d been alone with her.

I was starting to dread home games, ironically. At least when we traveled, I had her near me at night, even if she was across the room. But tonight we were in Calgary, and she’d worn my jersey to the game.

“—thoughts on that?”

I blinked at the microphone in my face. Holy shit, I’d totally spaced out during a post-game interview. And that was a camera. Well, this was fucking awkward.

My lips flattened as I narrowed my eyes, praying that any other part of his question would somehow pop back into my brain.

“Look, I know none of you want to think about what this expansion draft means, but you have to have at least a thought as to whether this season’s record is going to affect how closely Lewis Paulson is protecting your roster, right?” David Rockwell asked, urging his microphone closer.

And back in the game.

“I think it’s early in the season to be thinking about something that’s not slated to happen for another seven months.” I was already done with this interview, and they were blocking my exit from the locker room, so it wasn’t like I could just duck out.

“Okay, then what about tonight? How did you feel about that third period?”

That guy was from ESPN.

“We struggled a little at the beginning—”

“When you gave up two goals in the first minute?” the reporter hounded.

I wasn’t on that shift, asshole.

I forced a closed-lip smile. “Calgary’s offensive line is formidable, and I think it’s hard coming from the NCAA to make that NHL transition. We’re going to have some growing pains as rookies develop, and that’s nothing new. And maybe that third period started rough, but we all saw the score at the end.”

We won.

“We sure did. Calgary was a team you beat easily last year, but this was a knuckle-biter. How do you think that’s going to bode for you in the postseason?”

For fuck’s sake, dude.

“I think we’re pretty far out from the postseason, and I’m focusing on Dallas, which is in two days.”

We wrapped up the interviews and headed out to the bus. This was the one place I couldn’t have Harper with me, but at least I knew she was already at the hotel.

My cell phone buzzed, and I swiped to see a new text message.

HARPER: In or out?

A smile lifted my lips. She knew me so damn well.

NATHAN: In. Not feeling people tonight.

Except her. I was feeling her. Not that I was going to actually get to feel her. I wasn’t that cocky.

My dick twitched, reminding me that maybe I was. This was the longest I’d gone without sex pretty much since I’d started having it. But once I’d started hanging around Harper every day, I hadn’t wanted anyone else. Every other woman who’d come on to me felt like...less.

HARPER: I’ll order in. Steak and Broccoli?

NATHAN: You sure we’re not married? You know exactly what I like to eat.

HARPER: Fake dating does not equal real marriage.

NATHAN: LOL. I’ll settle for steak and Shark Tank.

HARPER: Deal. Room 1215. See you soon!

Even if all we did was stay in the room and watch that reality show she was obsessed with it was pretty much a perfect evening.

Once we got to the hotel, I ditched the guys in the lobby. We’d had a delay that meant we’d gone straight to the rink after the flight, so most of the team was still getting their key cards. I took the elevator straight up, loosening my tie as the numbers rose on the display. Once the doors opened at our floor, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and walked down the hall to our room, anticipation swimming in my stomach with every step.

She swung open the door before I could even knock.

She was still wearing my jersey.

I was so fucked.

“Hey! I’d say, ‘welcome home,’ but that feels a little too domesticated for hotel life.” She grinned and moved so I could come in.

“Feels about accurate at this point in the season,” I told her, brushing my lips across her cheek. I put my gear in the closet and closed the door.