Chapter 143: The Cellar

NORA’S POV

"Turn around," Priya commanded from the edge of my bed, pointing a lip gloss at me like a weapon.

I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down my dark emerald knit dress. The sleeves were snug, the ribbed fabric fell to mid-thigh, and my black suede boots gave me just enough lift to feel poised.

"Priya, it’s dinner, not a gala," I laughed, my stomach fluttering with nerves.

"Quiet," Priya declared, fluffing the loose waves over my shoulders. "Chloe is waiting for her suspension hearing, the contract is dead, and your honors standing is bulletproof."

She gripped my shoulders, meeting my eyes in the glass with a grin. "The hockey captain is taking you on a date. You look magnificent, and you will own it."

A laugh slipped past my lips as the nervous knot in my chest softened. "Thank you, Priya."

"Don’t thank me yet," she said, nodding toward my desk. "Check your screen."

Right on cue, my phone lit up with a banner.

Knox: Downstairs, Bookworm. Take your time.

My pulse jumped, warmth flooding my cheeks. I grabbed my black wool coat, slid my phone into my bag, and gave Priya a quick hug.

"Go get him," Priya smiled, nudging me toward the door. "And don’t rush back."

I shut our dorm room door and stepped into the quiet hallway. My boots clicked steadily as I walked to the stairs, relieved that the feeling of being watched was finally gone.

When I stepped into the lobby, my eyes instantly found him.

Knox stood near the glass doors in a tailored charcoal wool coat over a fitted black crewneck sweater and dark trousers.

The sweater emphasized his broad shoulders and powerful build. Clean-shaven with his dark hair neatly styled, he looked so handsome it stole the air from my lungs.

As if sensing me, Knox turned his head.

Our eyes locked across the lobby, and his hands went completely still.

His gaze traveled down the emerald dress to my boots, and when his eyes rose back to mine, the air between us seemed to ignite. His throat bobbed in quiet astonishment.

"Wow," Knox murmured as I stopped in front of him. "You look as stunning as always, Bennett."

"I’m just trying to meet up with your standards, Captain," I said softly, my skin warming under his gaze.

"You are the one setting the bar so high I can only try," Knox replied as reached out. His warm fingers closed around mine, sending anticipation dancing down my spine. "Let’s get you out of here," he said, guiding me out into the night.

The sharp evening air smelled of autumn leaves and the coast as Knox led me to his truck, opening the passenger door.

As I climbed into the heated cab, I noticed a cardboard cup in the console.

"Spiced chai with oat milk," Knox said, sliding behind the wheel. "Extra cinnamon, just how you like it."

I took the cup, breathing in the sweet steam as affection washed over me. "Who’s spilling my secrets?"

"No one... I’m just very observant, Nora," Knox replied, backing smoothly out of the lot. "Especially when it comes to things that makes you smile."

The truck rolled through the campus gates, leaving the library arches behind us.

"Where are we going?" I asked, taking a slow sip of the chai.

Knox glanced over, a relaxed smile tugging at his mouth. "A place in the historic harbor district called The Cellar. It’s about fifteen minutes off campus."

I tilted my head, curious. "You didn’t want to hit a sports pub near the arena?"

"Not tonight," Knox replied, resting his knuckles casually on the wheel. "If we stay near campus, people talk about playoffs and strangers stare."

He glanced at me. "Tonight isn’t about hockey or university politics. I wanted you to myself."

The certainty in his voice made my pulse flutter as I watched the streetlights illuminate his clean profile.

Fifteen minutes later, Knox pulled the truck into a cobblestone alley along the waterfront.

The Cellar was tucked inside the lower level of a converted brick warehouse overlooking the harbor. When Knox held the arched wooden door, the rich aroma of roasted garlic, rosemary, and aged wine welcomed us inside.

Exposed brick walls, dark timber beams, and candlelight gave the dining room a cozy intimacy.

"Reservation for Sheridan," Knox told the hostess.

She smiled and led us toward a curved leather booth beneath an arched brick alcove, completely private and shielded from the main floor.

Knox helped me slide out of my coat before sliding in beside me, his thigh brushing mine beneath the table.

"This place is gorgeous, Knox," I whispered, admiring the candlelit space.

"Bear’s brother recommended it," Knox smiled. "Said it was the only place where nobody talks about draft rankings."

He rested his forearm on the table, turning toward me as candlelight softened his gray eyes into liquid silver.

"Speaking of hockey," I said, leaning closer so our shoulders touched. "How was practice at two o’clock?"

A quiet sense of pride settled across Knox’s features, chasing away the last shadows of the weekend. "I walked into the locker room at one-forty-five," he said softly. "The room went dead quiet for five seconds. Nobody moved."

My breath hitched slightly. "And then?"

"Then Bear slammed his stick against the floor mat," Knox smiled, his eyes gleaming with affection for his teammates. "Jake joined in, then Milo, and within ten seconds, thirty guys were hammering their sticks against the stalls and screaming like we’d just won nationals."

A bright laugh broke from my chest, and I covered his hand with mine. "They missed their captain."

"They had my back," Knox said, lacing his fingers tightly through mine.

"Brennan didn’t even mention Chloe or compliance," Knox added. "He just skated us through drills until our lungs burned, and called it a day. For the first time in a while, being on the ice felt completely clean."

"You earned that, Knox," I told him earnestly, squeezing his fingers. "You fought for your team and stood your ground. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like your place out there was a gift."

Knox stared at me, focusing so hard that the rest of the restaurant seemed to fade into distant murmurs.

Before he could speak, our waiter arrived with warm sourdough rolls and sea salt butter. Knox ordered sparkling water, and the waiter slipped away.

The moment we were alone, Knox pulled out a crusty roll. He tapped the crust with his thumb, listening to the crunch before tearing it open to let the steam escape.

"What are you doing?" I asked, laughing softly.

"Inspecting the merchandise," Knox replied with deadpan seriousness, spreading butter across the warm crumb.

He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and shook his head. "Decent crust, but the crumb is too dense and lacks that subtle floral note."

"You’re critiquing artisan restaurant bread?" I teased, resting my chin in my palm.

"I’ve been trained by the best," Knox said without missing a beat, looking directly into my eyes. "A four-strand honey brioche crown has completely ruined commercial bread for me, Bookworm."

Warmth flooded my cheeks, my heart expanding with ridiculous happiness. "You’re ridiculous, Sheridan."

"I’m honest," he murmured, his voice dropping into a lower, more intimate register.

Dinner arrived shortly after... seared sea bass over polenta for me, and a ribeye steak with roasted potatoes for Knox. Between bites, we talked about everything we had never had the room to discuss before.

We talked about Sugar & Spice, and how my mother had cried in relief when I texted her that the inquiry had been dismissed. We talked about Knox’s younger years in Minnesota, learning to skate on frozen ponds long before his father turned the sport into a corporate enterprise.

For over an hour, there was no pretense between us. There were no cameras, no contract clauses, and no lingering fear of blackmail. There was only Knox and me, trading easy laughter and discovering the quiet comfort of being entirely known.

By the time Knox settled the bill and we stepped outside, the waterfront had fallen completely quiet.

A light frost glittered along the pier, and the harbor water stretched out like black glass beneath a canopy of sharp stars.

"Cold?" Knox asked as we walked along the wooden boardwalk.

"A little," I admitted, pulling my coat tighter against the ocean breeze.

Knox stepped behind me, wrapping his long arms around my shoulders and pulling my back flush against his chest. His coat shielded me completely from the wind, his solid body radiating steady heat.

I leaned my head back against his collarbone, looking up at the vast expanse of sky.

"I’m glad we came here," I whispered softly.

"Me too," Knox murmured, his chin resting gently against my hair.

He held me against the cold as the tide lapped against the pilings below, then gently turned me around until I was facing him.

The distant harbor lanterns cast soft silver highlights across the sharp planes of his face. His expression was serious, stripped of all defenses, his gray eyes searching mine with a tenderness that made my breath catch.

"You know what the hardest part of the last two weeks was?" Knox asked quietly.

I shook my head, my hands resting against the lapels of his coat. "What?"

"Wondering if you’d walk away when things got ugly," Knox confessed. "My father, the compliance board, the public smear... every instinct told me that dragging you into my mess would make you hate me."

"Knox," I breathed, resting my palm against his warm cheek. "I chose to stand there with you. I never wanted to walk away."

"I know," Knox whispered, leaning his forehead against mine, his fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of my neck.

"And that’s why I’m never letting you go, Nora," Knox said softly. "Not after tonight. Not ever."

Before I could answer, Knox closed the small distance between us.

His lips met mine with a sweetness that made my knees weak. It wasn’t a rushed kiss in a doorway or something done for an audience at the arena. It was gentle, deep, and full of honest devotion.

My hands slid upward, tangling into the soft hair at the back of his neck as I parted my lips, pulling him closer.

Knox let out a low, shuddering sound against my mouth, his arm tightening around my waist, lifting me slightly onto my toes as he poured every ounce of his heart into the kiss.

The cold ocean wind whipped around us, but I felt nothing except the searing heat of his skin and the fierce rhythm of his pulse beneath my fingertips.

When Knox finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven, his eyes burning with an intense, simmering warmth that made my pulse race wildly. He rested his forehead against mine, his thumb gently caressing the curve of my jaw.

"Come on," Knox whispered. "Let’s get you home before I lose my mind right here on this pier."

A shiver that had nothing to do with the winter air rippled through me as Knox took my hand and guided me toward the truck.