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“Sure does,” she says. “Would you like to ride the Zamboni with me during intermission?”
Cyrus’ face. If I could bottle the elation, the disbelief at his good fortune, the almost heartbreaking trembling of his eyebrows, and how he’s about to cry from happiness, I'd never be able to keep it in stock. I’d call it Cyrus’ Dreams Come True. Seriously, the kid is happier than those who find out they’re going to Disney for the first time. You know the ones where the parents decide to film their reactions and plaster the videosall over the internet? Cyrus’ reaction blows all those out of the water.
“Can I? Please?”
“I told you. Anything you want.”
“Ice cream?”
“They'll deliver ice cream sundaes to your box. After the chili dog bar and the sushi the ladies will probably order.”
“Yay! I love sushi.”
“Of course you do.” I turn to Emily. “His mom’s kind of a health nut.”
Emily’s smile is tight, but she nods, then says to Cyrus, “Come on down a little early before intermission so we can get you situated, okay?”
He’s skipping in circles by now. He hasn’t even had any sugar yet. Shannon’s going to kill me for dropping him off so hyper later tonight.
“I gotta go take him to meet Tate’s wife. I’ll talk to you in a bit to go over the details of his ride, okay?”
“Sure.”
She seems a little distant. But that’s probably because we’re back at work now. She told me she felt weird about it. For the record, I don’t. But I respect her feelings and won’t shove her into a closet to devour her like I want to.
“Is that your girlfriend?” Cyrus asks as we walk away.
“I want her to be.”
He makes like he wants to give me a fist bump, so I comply.
“She’s a hottie.”
“Where did you learn that word?”
He shrugs. “The kids at school say it all the time.”
“That’s it. I’m sending you to that posh private school.”
Leigh and her son Aiden are waiting for us when we get to the elevators. Aiden is just three months older than Cyrus, which in nine-year-old terms, makes him the older, more experiencedlad, and the way he’s preparing Cyrus for the VIP box, I can tell he takes it quite seriously. By the time I exchange phone numbers with Leigh, the two boys are best friends, and Cyrus can’t wait to see the box.
I find Emily about a half hour later, hoping I can convince her into the whole closet kissing scenario I’ve built up in my mind. She’s in Joe’s office, logging something on a chart. She’s changed her shirt, and instead of the hoodie she had on before, she’s in a licenced Toronto Titans jersey. But with her back to me, all I notice is the name stretched across her shoulders. O’Malley.
I’ve never been a jealous man, but right now, I want to rip that shirt right off her and burn it.
Of course I always want to rip off her clothes, but this is different. Seeing another man’s name on her back makes my blood boil.
When she hears my footsteps approaching, she turns to me and offers a half smile, but even that paltry expression falters when she sees I’m not slowing down, and I’m not smiling back. I am in beast mode right now. With dominance in my stride, I march right up to her, crowding her against the desk. Growling into her neck, I grab the hem of her shirt and tug. “You don’t wear anyone’s jersey but mine, Kitten.”
She lets out a shaky breath and nibbles on her bottom lip, glancing down to where our bodies meet. I’m in full gear already, but the way she’s looking at me, I wish I wasn’t.
“I’m wearingmyjersey. I bought it, so it’s nobody’s but mine.”
“It has Sawyer’s name on it and you know it.”
“Oops. They must have sold out of the inflated ego variety.”
“Take it off.”
