Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 13

13

ADALINE

My heart is still pounding as Nik and I catch our breath. I’m trying to process what just happened between us. It’s all a blur. One moment we’re watching the zaffe and the next we’re mauling each other in an alcove. I can't believe we’ve just done this, at Kyla’s wedding reception, of all places.

But damn, it was amazing. I loved the way his hands felt on my skin, the way he kissed me with such intensity—it was unlike anything I've ever experienced. As I gaze up at him, I can’t get over how attractive he looks. His hair down is lethal. It’s even better than I imagined. The word that comes to mind is unguarded, which is something he never seems to be. His eyes, still dark and hooded, tell a similar story. He lost control just as much as I did.

To my disappointment, Nik reaches up and starts gathering his hair back into a bun. God, even this simple act is mesmerizing to me, from the flex of his arms to the concentration on his face. It’s making me want a repeat performance of what just happened.

Once his hair is back in place, Nik turns his attention to me and uses his thumb to gently wipe at the corner of my mouth. “Your lipstick,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

I can only imagine the state of my makeup, but I can’t bring myself to be embarrassed. Not when he’s looking at me like that, like I’m the only woman in the world.

We linger in the alcove for a moment longer. Nik seems quieter now, almost pensive. Uncertainty and insecurity rear their ugly head. Does he regret what we’ve just done? I don’t want to know, not just yet.

“We should probably head back,” I say softly.

Nik nods. “Yeah, we should.”

We each make a quick detour to the bathroom, and then together we make our way back to the ballroom. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself before we rejoin the party.

As we step through the doors, it’s like being shoved back into the real world after an amazing holiday away from my day-to-day life. It almost makes me want to cry, but then Nik places his hand on the small of my back and it connects me back to him in a way I didn’t know I needed. I feel foolish for needing that kind of reassurance from a person who cannot wait to end our impulsive marriage.

My skin is still tingling from his touch as we weave around the tables and guests on the way back to our seats. He seems unfazed by this crowd and moves so gracefully. I’m worried I’m going to stumble over my own feet and fall flat on my ass.

When we finally reach our table, I sink into my chair, my legs feeling suddenly unsteady. Nik takes his seat beside me, his knee brushing against mine under the table.

I reach for my glass of champagne. The bubbles have faded, but I’m desperate for something to cool the heat that’s still coursing through my veins. As I take a sip, I catch Nik’s eye over the rim of my glass.

He gives me a small smile, like an acknowledgment of this secret we now share. I know we’ll have to talk about what happened, about what it means and all that. But not now and definitely not here.

Our table companions must be from David’s side of the family because I don’t know them, but most of them seem to know Nik. Kyla probably has the lamest excuse in the world for why I’m not sitting with our family, but I suspect it’s because she doesn’t want my date to be the center of attention.

“You guys got this? Gonna be able to secure home ice all the way through the playoffs?” One of the men asks Nik. He’s older with salt and pepper hair.

Nik rubs his chin. “It depends. We’ve got to win our remaining games. Especially against Dallas,”

“The home ice advantage is critical,” the man says as if he’s a hockey expert. I roll my eyes ever so slightly.

Nik’s tone is casual and I’m not sure how he deals with people like this. “It would be nice to have. But don’t forget we won the cup last year without that advantage.”

I’d forgotten that the Colorado Storm won the championship last year. I remember hearing passing remarks about it and getting caught in traffic during the parade. To think Nik was there, my future husband, and I didn’t know it.

As the conversation continues around the table, I keep glancing at Nik, my mind whirling with thoughts about what we’ve just done together. He glances my way too. I look, he looks. He looks, I look. The tension passing back and forth between us.

I try to focus on the small talk around me, nodding and smiling at all the right moments, but my attention keeps drifting back to Nik. How can everything feel so uncertain and yet so right at the same time?

Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupts my thoughts. “Habibti, there you are.”

I glance up to find Teta Lena walking towards our table with a concerned expression on her face. Seeing my grandmother brings a sense of relief, a welcome distraction from the tension between Nik and me.

“Is everything okay? Were you looking for me?”

“Why aren’t you and Nikolas sitting with the rest of the family?” she asks.

“This is where Kyla wanted us to sit,” I reply with a shrug.

Teta looks around, likely searching for Vicky, Kyla’s mother. “Don’t worry, Teta, we’re having a nice time,” I reassure her.

Nik nods in agreement.

Teta places a hand on his shoulder and apologizes. “I’m sorry, Nikolas. I assure you, my family means no disrespect by this.”

He shakes his head. “Please don’t apologize, Mrs. Khoury. I’m truly enjoying myself.”

But I know this isn’t where Teta is going to leave it. She scurries off without saying another word and before I know it, we’re being moved to sit at her table, my cousin Jack and his girlfriend Heather trading places with us, and quite begrudgingly if the expression on Heather’s face is any indication.

As we settle in at the new table, I smile nervously at Nik, knowing what’s coming. Being closer to family means we’ll be under more scrutiny, and with the way every one of my family members is essentially staring at Nik and me, they aren’t even trying to hide it. Nik’s expression gives nothing away, though. He’s a master at keeping his expressions in check. And then the inquiries begin. Poor Nik. I’m going to owe him more than just Irish Whiskey for this.

Teta Lena starts. “So where are you from, Nikolas? Adaline didn’t say.”

That’s because I don’t have the slightest idea. If I had to guess, I’d say Canada.

“I’m from a small town in Ontario, Canada,” he answers, confirming my suspicion.

Uncle Joe goes next. “Have you always played hockey? ”

I’d also like to know. No one is more curious about Nik’s answers than me.

Nik nods and clears his throat. I think he’s feeling a little uncomfortable. “I’ve been playing hockey since I was a kid. It’s always been a big part of my life.”

“You’ve been with the Storm, for what? At least ten years now?” Uncle Ray asks.

He nods and reaches out for his water glass, and takes a long sip. “Fourteen.”

Uncle Ray follows up. “So is this it, your last season?”

Nik’s lips twitch nervously, ever so slightly, and I nearly miss it.

“Hey everyone, let’s cut the guy some slack,” I interject, my eyes darting around the room anxiously. “Where’s the food?”

Teta signals to my Uncle Peter, the father of the bride, who is sitting at a table with David’s parents. They’re deeply engrossed in conversation. Teta catches Uncle Peter’s eye and motions for him to come over.

He excuses himself and approaches us with a grin on his face, clearly pleased to see Nik. Peter doesn’t have many opportunities to impress David’s parents, so having Nikolas Huxley as a guest of their family must mean a lot to him.

“What’s up, Mom?” he asks.

“When are we going to eat?” Teta asks her second oldest son.

Peter looks expectantly at Vicky, who gets up and goes off to find someone. It seems like this will go on all night.

And with that, the table erupts into a flurry of questions, with Nik answering each one with humility. However, I notice he didn’t circle back to answer the retirement question. I watch him interact with my family, and it means so much to me he’s willing to be the center of attention.

“Tell us how you met again,” Uncle Joe’s wife Esther asks .

“Why don’t you take that one, honey ,” Nik suggests with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Honey . Hilarious.

“Ok, honey , sure.”

That hint of a smile on his face gets a little more obvious.

“We met at an Irish Pub in Las Vegas. He was blocking my way to the bar like a real brute.”

“Brute?” Nik questions with a teasing tone.

“Total brute. But once he saw how desperate I was to get those girls a round of shots, he took pity on me.”

Nik chuckles softly beside me. “I seem to remember it a bit differently. I believe you called me a jerk.”

I roll my eyes playfully, bumping my shoulder against his. “Well, you were being one at first. But then you redeemed yourself by helping me get those drinks.”

Teta Lena leans forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “And then what happened, habibti?”

I feel my cheeks warm as memories of that night flood my mind—the electric chemistry between us on the dance floor, the way his lips felt against mine, the wedding. But I can’t exactly share those details with my family.

“We got to talking over a slice of pizza and realized we live near each other back in Denver. So we exchanged numbers. The rest is history.” I glance over at Nik, hoping my edited version of events is okay with him.

He nods almost imperceptibly, his hand finding mine under the table and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Your granddaughter made quite an impression on me. She’s a special woman.”

My heart flutters at his words, even though I know this is all part of the act. Nik is saying and doing all the right things to sell our relationship to my nosy but well-meaning family.

Uncle Joe claps Nik on the shoulder. “Well, we’re glad Ada brought you to the wedding, Hux. You seem like a good man. Even better if you win the cup again.”

Just then, Vicky returns to inform us that dinner will be served shortly. A string quartet begins to play and the servers emerge carrying trays heaped with Lebanese dishes. Plates of roast lamb, kibbeh nayyeh, stuffed grape leaves, tabbouleh, and hummus are placed in front of us. Nik watches as I pile my plate high with a bit of everything, his own selection more restrained, which I can appreciate. I’m guessing this is new to him, too.

The table falls into easy conversation as we eat, and I let out a small sigh of relief. Nik and I weathered the first round of familial interrogation. I’m sure it won’t be the last.

I’m surprised that Nik’s hand keeps finding its way to my leg as we eat. My head is shouting at me, what does this mean ? But I set that aside to the best of my ability and just try my best to enjoy it for what it is. Maybe he needs me to help ground him as much as I need him to help me do the same. Like if we’re making contact, then we’re not alone in any of this.

As the plates are taken away, the string quartet takes their leave and a DJ enters the scene. Oh, here we go. The lights dim again and firework fountains ignite at each corner of the dance floor. Then dry ice begins to creep out as Kyla and David float their way into the center for their first dance. This—I blatantly roll my eyes at.

A mushy country song starts—one about forever and white gowns—and Kyla and David perform their obviously rehearsed dance for us.

Nik leans over, close to my ear. “Do you wish you could have something like this?”

I lean back and look at him, an incredulous smile on my face. “Um, no.”

He raises an eyebrow, to say are you sure ?

The over-the-top nod I give him makes the corner of his lips turn up.

It’s not that I wouldn’t appreciate a wedding dance, I’d just prefer for it to be private. Just me and my husband. I think for me, what has always rubbed me the wrong way about Kyla and this wedding is the theatrics of everything they do.

Their dance ends with David spinning Kyla and then dipping her. I have to admit it’s a little cute. They get a rousing round of applause, even for me and Nik. After some additional ceremonial dances with their parents, the DJ transitions to a more upbeat song. My cousins and brother stream onto the dance floor. I watch them, amused at how much they love to party.

“Shall we?” Nik surprises me.

“Shall we what?” I ask.

“Do the dishes,” he jokes. “What do you think? I did agree to at least one dance, remember?”

I laugh. “Oh, right, sure.”

Nik stands and then offers me his hand.

I take hold of it and rise to my feet, and he guides me onto the dance floor.

When we find a spot, he spins me out and then back into his arms, and I giggle like a girl with a pretty obvious crush.

“I seem to remember you being a pretty good dancer back in Vegas,” he recalls, and there’s a playfulness in his eyes.

The memory of that night at the pub comes rushing back—the beat of those Irish drums and the heat of our bodies pressed together.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I tease, falling easily into step with him. We move together like we’ve been doing this for years.

As the song ends, the DJ puts on a slow, romantic melody. Without missing a beat, Nik draws me closer, his arm tightening around my waist .

“You were only committed to one dance,” I remind him.

“That one was for you. This one is for me,” he says and pulls me a little closer. I smile at that and let my hand rest on his chest. The feel of his hard body beneath his suit does nothing to help my attraction to him.

We sway together, our movements getting slower, more intimate as we go. Nik gently runs his fingers up and down my back. I’m not even sure he intends to do it, but I don’t want him to stop. The flutters in my chest feel much too good.

I tilt my head up to meet his gaze and find his dark eyes already fixed on me. The reception fades into the background—even the music seems to recede. It’s just Nik that I see.

“Ada,” he murmurs, his voice deep and quiet. “About earlier...”

I shake my head, not wanting to break the spell with talk of reality. “Not now,” I whisper, letting my fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Let’s just have this dance.”

Something flashes in Nik’s eyes. Something I recognize within myself. His hand splays across my lower back, pulling me even closer. We move together like this for the rest of the song. I glance over to our table and find Teta Lena watching us, a content smile on her face. I close my eyes and rest my head on Nik’s chest.

I know we’re treading on dangerous ground, blurring lines we shouldn’t cross, but it’s hard to care about consequences right now.

As the last notes of the song fade, I reluctantly loosen my grip on Nik, our bodies still swaying slightly to the lingering melody. I already miss the warmth of him.

Just as I’m about to suggest we stay for another dance, a familiar voice interrupts us. “Mind if I cut in?”

I turn to see George standing beside us, a hopeful smile on his face. My heart sinks a little, the magic of the moment with Nik dissipating like smoke in the wind .

“George, hey,” I manage, forcing a smile. “You want to dance?”

“Yes, if that’s okay,” he replies, his eyes darting between Nik and me.

I glance up at Nik, trying to gauge his reaction. His jaw is clenched, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that I can’t quite decipher.

“Sure, George,” I say, taking his outstretched hand. “One dance.”

As George leads me away, I chance a look over my shoulder at Nik. He’s standing still, watching us with an unreadable expression. A part of me wants to make up some excuse and run back to him. I could always just tell George that I’m actually married to Nik. That would be a way to blow up this entire wedding and get out of this dance.

George pulls me close as a new song begins, his hand resting on the small of my back. It feels wrong, too familiar, too presumptuous. I stiffen slightly, trying to maintain a respectable distance between our bodies.

“You look beautiful tonight, Addy,” George says, his breath tickling my ear. Instead of chest flutters, I get skin crawls.

I force a smile. “Thanks, George,” I reply.

“I’m surprised Mallory isn’t here. Was she not invited?” he asks and I figure he’s just making polite conversation.

“No, her and Kyla never hit it off,” I say, putting it mildly.

“Is she still working at your shop?”

When George asked me to dance, I didn’t figure we’d spend most of the time talking about Mallory, but I’m grateful because Mallory is one of my favorite people to talk about. “She does.”

“I’ll have to come by and visit you ladies,” he says.

The thought of George hanging around is not ideal in the least. My gaze flicks to Nik’s and if I’m not mistaken, he feels like I do and doesn’t like this dance one bit.