Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

Harper’s knee bounced next to me, just like it had on the ride to the airport, and then the entire flight here. She was full of some kind of nervous energy that I couldn’t get her to explain.

“Butterfly, why are you so jumpy?” I asked, setting my iPad on my lap.

“What? I’m not. I’m super mellow,” she said with a forced smile.

I reached over and put my hand on her knee, stilling the movement.

“Oh.” She looked over at me sheepishly.

“Yeah. Oh. Is everything okay? You’ve been weird since I picked you up.” Not that she wasn’t being incredibly sweet, agreeable, and doting on me.

It was precisely because of all those things that I was worried.

“I’m fine,” she squeaked before clearing her throat. “I’m fine,” she repeated in a lower tone. “So when we get to the hotel, do you want me to get our room key? I can get everything up to the room while you…” Her forehead puckered.

“While I what? Drink in the lobby?” I joked.

“You don’t drink on game days. You barely drink on any day,” she retorted.

“Yes, Harper, I know. I was being sarcastic.” I squeezed her knee. “Of course I don’t want you to get the key and take our stuff up. You’re not a pack mule.”

“I did it while we were in Calgary.” She looked at me...like she was seeking approval.

“Right, because I had to get straight to the rink and I didn’t want you wandering around without a place to relax.” I stroked my thumb over her knee when she started bouncing again.

“Okay. Do you need me to locate a juice bar?” she asked, her eyes hopeful.

“Harper, what the hell is going on?” Had she changed her mind about being with me? Sure, we knew it was a limited time thing with her move coming up, but it was still a bigger commitment than what she was used to.

“Nothing! Why does something have to be going on for me to want to do something nice for you?” she questioned, then looked out the window.

The high rise buildings of downtown Denver blocked out the sun as we wound our way toward the hotel. Hopefully we were almost there. Something told me I needed to get Harper up to our room to expend some of that excess energy in a much more pleasurable way.

“Do you think Faith takes care of Lukas’s room? Or Ivy?” she questioned.

I finally got it, and if she wasn’t so stressed out, I would have laughed.

“Harper, are you stressed out about the girlfriend label?” When she stiffened, I took her chin and turned her head gently toward me. “Are you?”

“I don’t know how to be a girlfriend. I told you I’m not good with labels, and I have no idea what that particular one infers when it comes to you.”

My thumb stroked the soft skin of her cheek. “You’ve had that label for over a week, so why are you worried now?”

“We’ve been at home,” she answered with a shrug. “Here, we’re on the road, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to take care of you, or stay out of your way, or what.”

“You’ve been on a dozen trips with me. Why would you feel like you had to change now?”

“Because it’s...real,” she ended on a whisper. “And I don’t know the rules for real girlfriends. I’ve never been one, let alone to an NHL player.”

“Well, first, I’m pretty much like every guy on the planet. The fact that I make a living playing a game doesn’t change that. Second, there aren’t any rules, Harper.”

She sagged, like that was a disappointment in her rigid, color-coded world.

“Okay, if you want rules, I can think of a few simple ones, and you can, too.”

“Yes, please.” Her eyes lit up, and I grinned, unable to help it. She was such a beautiful puzzle.

“Rule one, you act around me just like you always have. I fully expect you to flit away on whatever thought takes you, and to compete with the lab for your time. I want you—not whatever you think I want. Rule two, you take my call whenever possible, and I’ll do the same for you. I might have a touch of middle-child syndrome, and I might not need to be your number one priority, I’m not an idiot, but I do need to be somewhere between afternoon snack and picking up your dry cleaning.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Rule three. Be honest with me, no matter if you think it will rip my fucking heart out. If I can be honest about my issues, hence you picking up the phone, then I expect the same. Don’t ever lie to me.”

“I won’t,” she agreed.

“Lastly,” I leaned in to brush a kiss across her lips, then ran my mouth along her jawline to her ear. “I’m the only man who gets to fuck you.”