Page 46 of Love You Already

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“What are we doing again?” Rose asks as she climbs into her truck. I hold the door open as I wait for her to turn my way.

As usual, I get an eye roll for her having to repeat herself. How can I pay attention, though, when she's this fucking hot all the time? She's wearing a pair of jeans today at my request, and the t-shirt she's got on is another clinger, its fabric wrapping over every curve. The jeans do the same, though I'll admit I lose all sense of reason when I look at her.

“We're going on a date. An official one, wife. Because I want to show you I'm more than a ranch hand. You need to see the real me.”

She gives me a curious look, though she doesn't argue any further. I can only hope this doesn't backfire in some way. I want to prove to her I'm invested in us. That I want her as much as I've claimed with my words. Last week, when I realized we haven't been out on a date yet in the near month I've been here, I realized I was doing us both a disservice.

Spending day in and day out with her was everything I wanted and more, but it wasn't enough. In relationships, the daily grind can become so routine that couples forget to do that extra bit they did in the beginning. And since Rose and I went about it all backwards, I have even more of a disadvantage. I need to set a precedence for how I'm going to spoil her. What better way than to take her to my turf to show her how skilled I can be?

When I climb into the cab, I start up the engine and point to the radio. “Driver in charge?” I question.

“This is your rodeo, cowboy. You can make your own rules.” Her eyes sparkle with that teasing nature I love.

Pulling my phone out, I hook up the Bluetooth to the new system I had Nate install on her car when he came to steal it for an oil change last week. “She never takes care of this thing the way she should,” he'd grumbled. The second I mentioned doing some heavy updates and footing the bill, he agreed without asking questions. Since I knew I was going to take her on a longer trip soon, I had him do a full overhaul, including the radio.

As the first notes of Taylor Swift's Love Story starts to play, I pull away from the house and head down the drive. My wife has her jaw dropped as she stares at the radio screen where the song title flashes.

“I never took you for a Swiftie, husband.”

My fingers tighten around the wheel to stop me from pulling over to fuck her right here, right now. She knows what that word does to me, yet she's taunting me early on in the date. We've got a long day ahead of us, and I don't want to get to that part until I've properly spoiled her.

“Taylor deserves all the praise and then some. I've been on her side for years, and I think her music talent trumps all the other bullshit people say in my opinion. We listen to her in the locker room for pregame sometimes when we need a big boost.”

She breaks into a loud laugh, likely from picturing all of us guys belting out TSwift lyrics while dressed in our pads. When I mention there's the occasional dance battle as well, she snorts loudly before covering the sound with her hands.

“I would pay a lot to see that. Those videos would go viral,” she tells me once she calms down a bit more.

“You think? I could totally take some this season and post them. Get my accounts higher than the other guys.” It's become my own personal mission to gain followers as quickly as possible to show them how loved I am in the hockey world. The guys and I have a bet about it too, which will be a big win if I can pull it off.

Rose shakes her head as she starts to sing along with Taylor. We spend the first few minutes driving through Firefly Cove in quiet. Neither of us needs words when this connection between us is alive and vibrant enough to keep the energy steady. It's not until we're on the highway towards Houston that she interrupts the Destiny's Child song to speak.

“We're going to Houston? What are you planning? I don't like surprises.” Her arms cross over her chest, lifting those glorious breasts of hers and damn near making me swerve off the road.

“Yes, we are headed to Houston. As for surprises, I'm not too sure you don't like them. I'm one of the best surprises of your life, right?” I tease. She scoffs as I continue with, “I'm planning to bring you all the pieces of me. You've only seen parts of who I am at the ranch. Let me open up and give you more.”

The confession silences her for a bit longer. I take her quiet and the softness of the radio as my cue to describe some of my favorite places in Houston. I give her some information on the plans for the day including taking her to my favorite hole in the wall place that sells authentic Mexican food like nobody else.

“I'm going to guess Mexican is your favorite cuisine. You're always wanting to make it in some form or another, and now this,” Rose mentions casually.

I think it over for about two seconds before realizing she's right. I have been absolutely craving it.

“When I was in Vegas, there was a guy on the team, Raul, who was Hispanic. His mother had moved to Vegas to help him transition since he was a single dad to the most adorable little girl, Eve. Since she was always cooking up a storm, he'd invite us over to eat with him all the time. I became addicted to her food so much I started calling her Mama too.”

Rose goes quiet, though I see her smile from the corner of my eye. I let the silence settle back over us as we finish making our way into the city.

“I don't want to ruin our date,” she says softly when I stop at a red light. “But I'd like to know more about your family. You never talk about them, and it felt wrong to look it up online.”

God, I love this woman. The way she gets me is unlike anyone else ever has even attempted.

“I wouldn't have been mad if you looked it up. It's common knowledge since most people ask at some point during interviews when you first sign on.” I take a deep breath as the light turns green. Driving slowly ahead, I focus on the road rather than the emotions that want to overwhelm me. Even a decade later, it still hurts like hell to think about.

“It's ok if you don't want to talk about it.” Rose rushes the words out as if she's afraid that I'm angry.

With my focus ahead, I reach my hand across the console, palm face up. She takes it in hers, each finger carefully slipping between mine. I ground myself in her touch. Let myself feel the energy of us and the bond we've worked to build all these weeks. It's the comfort I need to tell her the truth.

“Remember how I told you about my name in Vegas? There's a lot of tradition steeped in the family line for as far back as I can remember. The only time they ever went against those deep Irish roots was the fact that they didn't have more than one child. Everyone else in the family had four or more kids. My mother was one of eight.”