Once Upon a Power Play (18 page)

Heart damn near beating out of his chest, he withdrew his left hand from hers and reached into the bag at his feet. He pulled out his jersey. It was the same one she’d thrown at him the last time they spoke. He hoped like hell he wasn’t about to crash and burn. The soft fabric spilled over their joined hands as he offered it to her. “I want you to wear my jersey, Chloe. I’ve missed you like crazy these last couple of weeks and it’s been killing me that I hurt you. I fucked up. I know that, but if you give me the chance, I will make it up to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. We make one hell of a team, and we belong together.”

She stared into his eyes, just like she had a hundred times before, and for once he really wasn’t sure what she was going to say. Would she give him another chance? Standing before him, she looked so damn beautiful and so unsure of herself. He hated that he’d done that to her, that he’d made her doubt them. Their relationship was the one thing she should always be able to count on, no matter what.

“I…” She sucked in a breath, her shoulders rising and falling. “I screwed up, too. Instead of jumping to conclusions, I should have let you explain. I should have trusted you.”

“None of that matters now,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her chin. “It’s all in the past. There’s only one thing I care about right now.”

She raised her brow, the corners of her full lips inching upward. “And what’s that?”

“I want you to be my girl.” He stroked her cheek, relishing the feel of her silky skin. A familiar tension coiled in his gut when he touched her, as if he needed reminding of their explosive chemistry. But that wasn’t what this was about. This was about something deeper, something more meaningful than mind-blowing orgasms, although he was thrilled to have those, too. “I need you to be my girl. I love you, Chloe Jacobs.”

Staring up at him with wide eyes, she swallowed. Her hands shook as she clutched his jersey to her chest. Was that a good sign? He wasn’t certain, but he prayed she wasn’t going to fling it back in his face. Again. “You love me?” she whispered.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for weeks,” he admitted, shifting his weight. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know—”

She brought her hand to his lips, silencing him. Her eyes locked on him as if they were the only two in the quiet arena. “I love you too, Ryan Douglas.”

His heart swelled—
fucking swelled
—with joy. He felt like a damn teenager, overwhelmed by the amplified emotions surging through his body. For the first time he realized how nervous he’d been, knowing she might not feel the same way. Now? There was nothing to fear.

“So what do you say?” he asked, riding the emotional high. “Are you team Douglas-Jacobs?”

There was only a brief moment of hesitation before an ornery grin spread across her face, lighting up her eyes. “I’m more of a Jacobs-Douglas kind of girl.”

“Is that right?” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Her breath hitched as her body came into contact with his, melting against him as if she’d been made for him alone. “I guess I can live with that.”

The laughter that spilled from her lips was music to his ears. They were going to be okay. Better than okay. He’d meant what he said. He would do whatever it took to restore her confidence in him, in them. They’d be stronger than ever and nothing—
nothing
—those fools at Page Six printed was going to tear them apart.

“Shut up and kiss me.” She slid her hand around his neck and lowered his mouth to hers. Chloe’s lips crashed against his, her tongue darting into his mouth and mating with his own as she held him tight. Now that was something he could get used to. And this time? He wasn’t letting her go.

Epilogue

Six Months Later

R
yan paced outside the apartment. Gathering his courage, he cursed himself for being such a pussy. What was the big deal? People got engaged every day. Chloe was going to say yes.

Probably.

No, definitely. She wanted this as much as he did. Maybe she hadn’t come right out and said it, or even hinted at it for that matter, but he was sure she’d say yes. And the element of surprise would make it that much sweeter. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face, assuming he didn’t butcher the proposal, which was a very real possibility. Despite hours of practicing, he felt as if a puck were lodged in his throat.

Rolling the tiny box between his fingers, he contemplated the ring inside. He’d chosen a classic princess cut, knowing immediately the simple choice would complement her larger-than-life personality. Plus, he kind of liked the irony of it and he knew she would, too. It would be their private little joke. But there was nothing funny about his intentions. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. To build a future together. The last year had taught him a lot, including the fact that he could live without hockey. He couldn’t say the same about Chloe. She would always come first. Always.

Hell, he should’ve done it months ago. He loved her with all his heart and soul. In all his life, he’d never been happier. And with or without hockey, he knew she’d be by his side, supporting him through life’s highs and lows. Before Chloe, he hadn’t even known what real love was. Now? He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. The last couple of months they’d been living together had been amazing. Just having her under his roof had made a world of difference, transforming his sterile apartment into a real home. Their home. It was time to take the next step. Together.

Stuffing the ring box in his pocket, he checked his watch. Still plenty of time to make their reservation uptown. He was ready. He’d practiced the words all day. If he didn’t know them by now, he was screw—

What was that smell?

Was that smoke? It sure as hell smelled like it. And it was coming from their apartment. Scrambling for his keys, he unlocked the door and let himself in. No sooner did he open the door than the smoke alarm started bleating, warning of a potential blaze. Leaving the door open behind him, he ran down the hall, heart pounding erratically.

“Chloe?” He froze when he reached the living space. Everything looked fine. Normal even, except that the table had been set for two, complete with fresh flowers and flickering candles. So much for a night on the town. Maybe he should have called ahead and told Chloe about the reservations. It had taken him weeks to book a table, and the last thing he wanted to do was give it up, but if she’d cooked dinner, they were definitely staying in. He sniffed, the acrid scent of smoke irritating his nose. Then again, maybe not. Whatever this was, it was big. Chloe never cooked.
Ever
. It was practically against her religion. “Chloe? Are you okay?” he called, shouting over the damn alarm. “Where are you?”

A barely audible whimper came from the kitchen. What he heard loud and clear was an unfamiliar
whoosh
and an uncharacteristically PG-rated curse. “Lousy-good-for-nothing-overpriced-food-destroying-piece-of-crap-excuse-for-an-oven!”

Bracing himself for the worst, he squared his shoulders and turned the corner. Relief flooded his veins. It was impossible to suppress the grin that spread across his face as he took in the scene before him. Chloe stood before the oven in a stained apron, fire extinguisher in hand. He shut off the fire alarm and turned his attention back to his girl, who was staring at what he could only assume was their ruined dinner, coated in a fine white dust.

“Oh, honey, you cooked.” He eyed the charred remains and winked at her. “You shouldn’t have.”

She took one look at him and burst into tears.

B
awling like a baby, Chloe collapsed in Ryan’s arms, the burned remnants of their romantic dinner taunting her from the stovetop. Ryan scooped her up, circling her body with his warm embrace. All the pressure, all the anxiety slipped away. She was home, right where she belonged.

“Shhh,” he whispered, stroking her hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. “I was just teasing. It’s no big deal. We’ll just go out to eat.”

She sniffed, mortified by her impromptu cryfest. Who did that? And why did Ryan have to be so understanding all the time? Especially when she couldn’t even prepare one stupid meal without damn near burning the place down. She sighed. There was still a lot to learn about being a domestic goddess. Or, you know, just being domestic.

“So much for my shit-tastic cooking skills.” Pulling away, she grinned up at him, letting him know the worst of her emotional meltdown had passed. “It was worth a shot.”

“Princess, what were you thinking?” he asked, eying the blackened oven dubiously.

It was now or never. Chloe drew a deep breath, calming her deep-fried nerves. “I thought it would be nice to share a home cooked meal.” She pointed at the pans on the stovetop one by one. “Balsamic roasted baby carrots, garlic roasted baby potatoes, and herb roasted baby chicken.”

Ryan tilted his head, studying her with curious eyes. “Do I sense a theme to this meal?”

“What?” Chloe asked, stalling for time. Crap. She’d screwed it all up. That hadn’t come out right. At. All. “I can’t roast shit?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and was it her imagination or had his lips quivered as well? Yep, she’d hit that one right on the head. “I was referring to all of the baby food.”

“Yes, well, about that.” She chewed her lower lip, struggling to get the words out. Two little words. Lots of big changes. How would Ryan take it? Would he be excited? Disappointed? Would he feel pressured? Or worse yet, would he bolt? No. No more second guessing. She just needed to tell him and let the pucks fall where they may. “I’m…pregnant.”

Ryan laughed. The stupid jerk actually laughed. Here she was about to have an anxiety attack, fearful of his reaction, and he had the audacity to laugh? Not exactly the reaction she’d been expecting. Then again, there were worse reactions to have, right?

Unsure of what to say next, she watched as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small box. A small box that looked a hell of a lot like a ring box. Was that…? No. It couldn’t be. She shut down the thought immediately. That was the worst kind of wishful thinking.

“This probably looks bad,” Ryan said, shifting his weight and raking his fingers through his hair. “But I was going to surprise you tonight. I made reservations and everything.” He flashed her a sheepish grin. Then, grasping her hands, he fell to one knee.

Chloe’s pulse thundered so loudly she could barely form a coherent thought, let alone process what Ryan was saying. He stared up at her with such love, such adoration, his eyes filled to the brim with raw emotion.

“I wanted to do this right. I thought that meant champagne and roses and ambiance. Now I realize doing it right is this right here.
Us.
Together. Happy. In love. Anywhere you go, that’s where I need to be. For the rest of my life. Marry me, Chloe. Marry me and make me the luckiest sonofabitch in New York City.”

Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.

The phrase echoed through her brain like a CD stuck on repeat. And for the first time in her entire life, she was utterly speechless. It was the happiest moment of her life and there were no words to describe it. Tears leaked from her eyes as she absorbed Ryan’s words, knowing they’d be imprinted on her brain until the end of time.

“So what do you say?” he asked, flipping open the tiny box to reveal a fantastic princess cut diamond set in a traditional platinum setting. The bright kitchen lights set the stone on fire, radiant light bouncing off its flawless surface. It was simple. Elegant. Perfect. It was the most stunning ring she’d ever seen. And it was hers. Forever. Just like Ryan. She could hardly believe it. “Do we have two things to celebrate this evening?”

Chloe nodded, tears running down her cheeks. “Yes,” she cried, locking her fingers with Ryan’s. “Yes. Yes.
Yes!
”

Climbing to his feet, he pulled her body to his, slipping his hands around her waist and lifting her into the air. He spun them both in a circle like something right out of a fairytale. Only this was no fairytale, it was her life. And this was really happening. She was going to be Ryan’s wife and the mother of his child. It was all so…so…
surreal
.

Heat pooled in her belly, fanning out through her body and warming her limbs. Without warning, Ryan crushed his lips to hers, peppering her with his soft kisses, each one more tender than the last as he claimed her. Still reeling from his proposal, Chloe held him tight, unable to believe she, Chloe Jacobs, would soon be Mrs. Ryan Douglas. It had a nice ring to it.

Holding her gaze, Ryan withdrew his lips. He pressed a hand to her belly. “I’ll bet this little guy is going to be one hell of a hockey player. He’ll have quick hands just like his daddy.”

Chloe arched her brow. “And what if this little guy is actually a little girl?”

Ryan froze, a look of horror on his face. “A girl?” Apparently he hadn’t considered the prospect. He tilted his head. “We’re going to need some rules. Rule number one? No dating until she’s thirty. Rule number two? No dating hockey players. Ever.”

A grin spread over Chloe’s face, and she patted his chest. “I think we have some time before we have to worry about the rules of dating.”

He kissed her nose. “You’re right. We have the rest of our lives to figure it out. Together.”

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