Page 74 of Desire or Defense

Because I think I’d really like to be his.

Silently, we walk to the bleachers. I take a seat beside Melanie, and Mitch sits next to me. West is on Mel’s other side, and Remy, Colby, and Bruce are in the row behind us. I can barely contain my smile when I notice they’re all wearing Wombats gear. I feel a little bad that I don’t have a single Wombats item. Bad sister move.

“I can’t wait to see your brother play, I’ve been told he’s basically a prodigy.” Mel oozes warm friendliness that is rare to find. Her smile is so genuine as she talks about Noah that it brings tears to my eyes. I quickly blink them away and swallow.

“Thanks, he works really hard.”

“He’s infinitely better than Freckles,” Mitch mutters the words so quietly, I barely hear him. I turn and give him a mulish glance, but he doesn’t even look a little abashed. He just stares right back at me.

He’s obviously still perturbed by Steph calling me out like that in public. I’m annoyed, and even a little embarrassed by it, but those feelings are overshadowed by the satisfaction of Mitch defending me. It’s been a long time since I had someone to defend me, to stand up for me. And it feels pretty damn good.

Turning my attention back to Mel, I note that West has an arm around her waist and the smile of a man completely in love. Watching them makes me want to breathe out a happy sigh.

Mel leans into West, but keeps her eyes on me. “So, you had a date this morning?”

“Yeah, Mitch took me to see a movie.”

Colby and Bruce snicker behind me, I look over my shoulder just in time to see Remy elbow Bruce in the ribs and shush him.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

He uses air quotes when he says, “To see a movie.”

Remy rolls his eyes like he’s babysitting two small, hyper children and needs a break. “Some guys can take a woman to a movie and actually watch the movie, you know.”

“We didn’t watch the movie,” I say with a suggestive smirk. “I couldn’t begin to tell you what it was about.”

Remy blushes so hard that he looks ten years younger and so boyish. I laugh. Mitch’s rumbly, low voice comes from beside me, “We didn’t watch the movie because we were talking.” He pins them with a steely glare. “Get your minds out of the gutter.”

The kids get in place on the ice for the start of the game and everyone on the bleachers quiets down. I wish youth hockey had announcers like the NHL, maybe then I’d actually have a clue what was happening during these games. Instead, I just copy the people around me. If the crowd is cheering… then I cheer too.

Noah’s on the first line as usual, but not Declan this time. I’m sure Steph somehow thinks that’s my fault. The kids start playing and the guys chat the entire time about what’s happening and comment on the kids’ abilities. It’s like having my very own announcers to sit with.

“Dang, Noah really is good,” West says, looking over at me and Mitch. “Reminds me of myself when I was that age.”

Melanie pats his cheek. “Yeah, you wish.”

Noah scores a goal and we all jump up and scream, cheering for him enthusiastically. The guys’ antics, along with the sheer size of them, are probably shaking the bleachers. Noah looks over at the stands and shakes his head slowly, like we’re so embarrassing. It’s such a Mitch thing to do; it makes me laugh.

“Oh, my gosh. You’re rubbing off on him,” I say to Mitch.

His eyebrows raise slightly. “You mean because his game is on point?”

“No,” Bruce answers for me. “Because he’s got the Mitch ‘The Machine’ glare down pat.”

We all laugh, except Mitch.

Shifting in my seat on the cold, uncomfortable bench, I realize that I was so high from my date with Mitch that I forgot to grab my bag that contains my mittens and hat before leaving the house. Thankfully, I’m wearing a sweater over my bodysuit, but my hands and face are freezing. I release a little shiver and Mitch looks at me with those adorably furrowed brows.

He shrugs off his sexy leather jacket and gently places it over my shoulders. It’s so big, it’s practically a blanket. And the scent of the big man himself envelopes me… it’s like entering a bakery and being overwhelmed by the smell of freshly baked bread… but the Mitch Anderson mountain-scented version.

“Where’s your hat?” he asks quietly as he takes both of my hands and presses them between his own to keep them warm.

“You noticed my hat?” I’m a little surprised he was paying enough attention to note that I typically wear a knit-beanie to hockey games and practices.

He leans in close to my ear, his soft lips and beard brushing against my earlobe. I shiver at the feel of him being so close. “I notice everything about you,” he whispers in that deep, manly tone.

In my opposite ear, Bruce’s voice whispers, “Hey, can you guys talk a little louder? It’s really hard to eavesdrop when you’re whispering.”