Dirty Score (Rough Riders Hockey 3) - Page 72

An uneasy flutter tried to break out, but Mia repositioned her grip. “What did Joe say?”

“He said the only thing that I could do to disappoint him would be to not go after what makes me happy. And he already knows you make me happy.”

That made Mia want to sag into a puddle in Rafe’s arms.

Reality check. Joe and Tate weren’t their only problems.

She shrugged out of his hold and got to her feet. Rafe struggled to his own.

“That’s…” She released a breath and tucked her hair behind her ears. “That’s great. I’m glad you all worked it out and patched things up. But that doesn’t change anything for you and me. I’m done with these dysfunctional relationships, and we both know you never stay with one woman.” She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s just who you are.”

Rafe exhaled and nodded. Shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “It was who I used to be. Until you. Before you, I never wanted to stay with one woman.”

Oh God. Those were dream words. From a dream man.

If only he meant them.

She crossed her arms and heaved a sigh. God, she was so tired. “Rafe—”

“Tate gave me some good advice, believe it or not.” He laughed, the sound filled with irony. “He told me I’ve been letting too much talk take the place of action. And he was right. So, I went back to doing me.” He brought his hands around in front of him, and one held a small box. He met Mia’s eyes again, serious and soft. “I’m going after what I want.”

She still wasn’t following what he was saying. Until he dropped to one knee in the sand again, opened the box and lifted it toward her.

“Mia, I love you. I want you. I need you. Marry me.”

Her mind hit a wall. Her gaze jumped between the ring and his face at least half a dozen times while her mind spun and spu

n but went nowhere. While her lips formed words but nothing came out. Her heart lodged in her throat, cutting off her speech and blocking her air.

“Rafe— What— That’s—” She took a step back, hands stacked over her pounding heart. “What? You can’t be serious.”

But, da-yum, that ring, sparkling in the sunlight, looked very serious.

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious.”

And he just stayed right there on his knees, offering the ring.

Hysteria trickling in. It bubbled in her gut and fizzed along her nerves. “Then you need to go back to the hospital for another head scan. Rafe. Married? You’re insane.”

“No,” he said, level, calm. “I’m in love. With you. I’ve been in love with you for what seems like forever. What’s insane is the idea I could ever love someone even half as much as I love you. What’s insane is us pushing each other away because of what other people think or want or say. What’s insane is wasting another minute miserable when we can be happy. Together.”

She tented her hands over her mouth. Tears blurred her vision.

He was serious.

This was real.

“Holy…”

He grinned. Barely. And lopsided, with his cuts limiting the movement. “I’d rather hear ‘yes.’”

“Rafe,” she breathed. “What about…”

She looked up and around, almost forgetting where she was. The whole bicoastal issue smacked her in the face. Then Tate’s words echoed in her head: “I told you not to give up your own place,” and something that felt the way she imagined PTSD would feel vibrated in her chest.

Was this just another mistake waiting to happen? If she gave up this job, this apartment, this life for a man, and he changed his mind…

“I know what you’re thinking.” His words brought her gaze back. “But I’m still here.” And he was. He hadn’t moved an inch. “And I’m not leaving, Mia. We can catch a flight to Vegas and elope tonight if you want. No prenup, no negotiations. You get all of me. One hundred and fifty percent. You keep this job, this apartment with Cynthia. I’ll fly in as often as I can. Do my charity work and interviews from here instead of DC. I’ll spend the off-season here. We can get a little place of our own to stay at when I’m in town. When you get time off, you can fly back to DC to see everyone. A lot of couples manage on far tougher schedules. In two years, when my contract comes up, and I’m a free agent, then we can…” He grinned again, lifting one brow. “Negotiate.”

Tags: Skye Jordan Rough Riders Hockey Romance
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