Bet On It: An Age Gap Billionaire Office Romance(38)

I nearly shot off my desk and jumped for joy. Instead, I cleared my throat and stood. "I could pick you up, but if you're concerned about how that will look, I'll arrange for a driver to come get you."

She nodded. "Thank you."

When she left, I sat at my desk, leaning back, lacing my fingers behind my head, and sporting a grin. She said yes when I’d been so sure she'd say no. All of a sudden, things were looking up.





20





Analyn





This was a bad idea. I knew it when Reed asked me to attend the hockey game with him. I knew it when I had agreed to go. But I suppose the discomfort of being with Reed was less than that of being at home with Betts, who was frequently there with Paul.

He was there much more than he used to be, and I began to wonder if that was because he wanted to intimidate me into keeping my mouth shut. I think he was clear that he wasn't going to have another chance with me because on the few occasions when Betts was indisposed, he didn't come near me.

My not telling Betts the truth about what happened had nothing to do with Paul and his continuously lurking about. It had to do with the way Betts walked on air at being engaged. There were wedding magazines everywhere. She was watching wedding related YouTube videos, and of course, binge watching Say Yes to the Dress.

And each time I made an attempt to tell her, her exuberance prevented me from following through. I was going to tell her. Really, I was. I just hadn't found the courage yet. And going to a hockey game was another excuse to put it off.

Even so, I found the game intriguing. It moved so fast, I usually had no idea where the puck was. It was a little disconcerting how exciting it was when one player rammed into another, a move that Reed explained was called checking. And I suppose I enjoyed once again seeing how the one percent lived by watching it from a private VIP box filled with decadent snacks and wine, along with its great view of the ice.

"So, you used to play this game?" I asked as I sat in a chair next to Reed overlooking the ice.

"I did."

I glanced over at Reed, noting the amusement in his voice and eyes. But I also saw that he was glad that I was enjoying myself.

"Did you used to get hit like that?"

He laughed. "Yes, and I did my fair share of checking as well."

I frowned as I looked at him.

"What?

"You still have all your teeth. I thought I saw somewhere that hockey players were always losing their teeth. The way they get hit, I can see why."

He grinned, showing off a straight set of pearly whites. "I lost two teeth. And I left them lost until I retired. Losing a tooth is a rite of passage."

I laughed. "Really? It must be painful."

He nodded. "Sure, but getting hit with a stick, being slammed into the boards, hitting the ice . . . hockey is a painful sport."

It was a crazy sport. "Why do people do it? Why not have more protections? Football is always updating their equipment."

He sat back, looking at me skeptically. "Football is for pussies." Then he grinned again. "Hockey has a long tradition of being fast and violent, where your bruises and lost teeth are like medals of honor. It's part of what makes the sport fun."

I heard a buzzer go off.

“That’s the end of the first period,” Reed explained. “Now we have an eighteen-minute intermission.”

"How come you quit playing?"

His jovial demeanor faltered. He let out a long sigh as he sat back in his chair. "Some injuries are harder to overcome than others. In my case, it was my knee."

It had to be horrible to have your dream stolen by an injury. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's one of the risks. And it's not like I didn't have a full career. Most hockey players are out in their early thirties. I’d made it a little bit longer than that."

"Is that when you started your business?"

He nodded, reaching over for the bottle of wine he’d set on the table between us and pouring me another glass. I'd had two already, so it didn't seem wise to have another. But I was enjoying myself, and so far, the chemistry between us hadn't combusted. Oh, sure, it crackled and snapped sometimes, but it hadn’t consumed us.

"Yes. I sort of started on a whim. I wasn't ever a gambling person, but I always enjoyed little wagers or bets."

I nodded. "You've made a few bets with me."

"And I think I've lost them all."

I cocked my head to the side to study him. "You don't seem too bothered by that."

He looked at me intently, making my insides fire. "When it comes to you, even when I lose, it seems like I'm winning." He clicked his glass with mine.

The door to the private room opened, and a man who had to be in his late thirties or maybe early forties with dark hair and bright blue eyes entered.

Reed stood up and went over to the man. "Pierce. What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be down getting your team ready for the third quarter? Bo is looking a little sluggish out there tonight. Is he hung over?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. But even hung over, that kid plays better than anyone I've ever seen."

"Pierce, I'd like you to meet Analyn Watts. Analyn, this is Pierce Jackson. He’s the coach of the home team."