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"Once or twice," he says, a ghost of a smile appearing. "Wasn't really my scene. I preferred the ice."
"Right. Ice King Ryder," I tease. "Well, you're stuck with me now, Your Majesty."
"Stuck seems like the wrong word." His gaze locks onto mine.
"Does it?" I swallow hard, my heart pounding so loudly I'm sure he can hear it.
"Does it," he confirms, and for a flash of a second, I think he's about to bridge the gap, charge over the line, pull me into his arms and...
"Jayden, the sauce," Ryder points, and I blink back to reality just in time to see wisps of steam rising too rapidly from the pot.
"Shit!" I curse, giving it a frantic stir. Saved by the bell—or in this case, the basil. My internal monologue groans. Can we have one conversation that doesn't end with me wanting to jump his bones?
Chapter 10
Ryder
The night has come for mine and Jayden’s first official holiday party that we had initially agreed on. I hold her hand in mine as we walk down the short sidewalk and take in the winter wonderland surrounding us. Asher's new place is decked out in twinkling lights that reflect off what must be fake snow, because it certainly hasn’t snowed anywhere close to the beach. His place looks like a scene ripped straight from those holiday cards nobody sends anymore.
"Damn, they didn't hold back with the decorations," I mutter.
"Looks magical, doesn't it?" Her voice dances with that ever-present lilt of wonderment. She's all wide-eyed and giddy with excitement.
Inside, the warmth hits us like a welcome embrace. The scent of pine and cinnamon floats through the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of my teammates. Elle, Asher’s girlfriend, hands us each a glass of something bubbly and crimson.
"Ryder! Jayden! So glad you could make it!" Asher booms, clasping me on the shoulder in that brotherly way of his. I nod, sipping the drink to avoid too much small talk.
Jayden's hand finds mine under the guise of needing stability on the polished hardwood floors, but her fingers linger, sending silent messages I'm still learning to decipher.
We weave through bodies, the night unfolding in a blur of forced festivities. I play my part, the stoic defenseman, while Jayden shines like the beauty she is.
When the evening winds down, and the last of the couples start retrieving their coats, I’m reluctant to let go of the night. I turn to my date for the evening, who's now looking at me expectantly.
"Want to come back to my place?" The question feels loaded, like I'm not just asking her to walk through the front door, but also to step into the reality that could be if we just let it happen.
She smiles, seeming like she understands more than she lets on. "I'd love to."
We step back into the cool night and make our way to my truck.
"Did you have a good time?" I ask.
"Of course," she replies. "But I'm thinking the night could still get better."
Her suggestion hangs there, tangible as the crispness surrounding us, and I unlock the truck, feeling a strange sense of anticipation knotting in my chest. We climb in, and I start the engine.
Maybe it's the season, or maybe it's Jayden, but tonight, I crave the connection I've too often pushed away, the closeness I've convinced myself I don't need.
I tap the steering wheel, each beat a silent admission of the chaos brewing inside me. The black Jeep eats up the road back to Pawleys Island.
"Jayden," I start, glancing over at her, "there's something I gotta say."
"Shoot," she says, her attention fixed on the moonlit ocean in the distance.
"Alright." I clear my throat, feeling like a damn amateur at this feelings crap. "It's about us."
"Us?" Her eyebrow quirks up, and she turns to face me.
"Yeah, us." My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I wrack my brain for the right way to do this.
