27

nova

W e’re out in public.

Can you believe it?

Our third outing— third date —if you can call it that.

The place is loud and buzzing—the good kind of loud, the kind that makes your ears hum with energy instead of ache. It’s a fancy steakhouse but surprisingly it's packed to the walls with people wearing Baddies jerseys and hoodies.

Cars outside are honking, celebrating the teams’ win long after the game came to an end.

Luca’s hair is still damp from his post-game shower, mostly hidden beneath a black ball cap pulled low over his brow—clearly an attempt to be less recognizable. He’s wearing a fitted, black thermal shirt that hugs his chest and arms, and I can’t stop staring…

So handsome.

So unaware of the way he looks right now.

We’re seated at the bar while waiting for a table, elbows brushing on the slick surface, our drinks sweating in front of us. My margarita has too much salt on the rim, but I lick it anyway and try not to stare at his mouth.

Yum .

"You want another one of those?" Luca nods at my drink. "Or are you just gonna keep licking the glass like that to make my dick hard. Because it’s working.”

I twirl the straw. "Maybe both?"

He shakes his head, clearly amused. "Can’t take you anywhere."

I grin into my glass, pretending not to notice the way his thigh presses against mine under the bar.

His smirk is slow and lethal when he drops his hand casually to my knee beneath the counter. Squeezes.

Not obviously— just the lightest touch , testing how far he can go. His thumb strokes a slow circle, and I have to take a deep breath to keep from sliding his hand between my thighs.

“We could leave,” he offers optimistically. “Slip out the back, have sex in the back seat of my car.”

The bartender appears with a bowl of bar mix snacks, saving me from having to formulate a witty response. I thank her and shoot Luca a death glare that’s entirely fake, because my insides are absolutely not chill.

I pop a pretzel into my mouth and chew.

His fingers are still on my leg.

So far, no one’s recognized him—not that he’s making it easy to stay incognito. He’s doing that athlete thing where he tries to blend in. Shrink himself. But his body, voice, energy—they’re impossible to miss.

Especially when he’s got one hand on me and the other stealing the saltiest chips from the bowl, shoving them in his mouth three at a time.

“Behave,” I murmur, resting my hand on top of his, stilling the slow ascent of his fingers up my thigh.

He smells like his post-game shower—clean and warm, with a hint of whatever body wash he uses—makes me want to drag my nose along his throat. Suck on his neck.

Lick him.

But we’re here to celebrate .

Taking a chance.

A risk, if you will …

I take another sip of my drink and try to redirect my perverted thoughts but it’s no use.

He shifts again, bumping my knee. Our elbows touch. Our thighs press together.

Every single point of contact causes me to tingle…

Cool it, Nova—you’re in public.

As if I need to keep reminding myself, my nerves are doing a good enough job. I’m on edge, waiting for someone to see us.

A fan.

A teammate.

I don’t know—the media?

“Relax.” Luca reads my mind, trying to put my mind at ease. “We’re twenty minutes outside of town.”

Correct.

Near Austin and Gio’s new place in suburbia.

I’m half-expecting him to lean in and whisper something dirty again, but instead, he sits back a little, sipping his water like he’s not responsible for the hormonal circus inside my body.

“You know that second goal tonight?” he says, glancing at me, like we’re just two friends having a chill, totally platonic chat at the bar.

I blink, dragging my thoughts away from his thighs and back to his face. “Uh, yeah?”

“I only pulled that off because Skaggs faked right at the last second,” he continues, eyes lighting up. “It opened the lane, and I knew if I didn’t capitalize, he’d never let me hear the end of it.”

He’s passionate. Animated. He loves this game so much it pours out of him when he talks, and I find myself listening harder, hanging on his every word.

“You were in the zone.”

Luca grins at the compliment and ducks his head like he’s trying to hide it, but I see it. That flash of pride. The spark of joy in his eyes .

“It felt good,” he admits, fingers brushing his water glass. “Sometimes the whole game just clicks. Like you’re seeing things happen before they do.”

I get that. Gio talks about that feeling often.

He glances at me, curiosity tugging at the corners of his smile. “What’s your version of that?”

“Hm?”

“When do you feel like that—totally in sync, like you’re killing it and nothing can touch you?”

Oh jeez—I have no idea. “When I’ve designed something for a client and hit it on the first mock-up. Everything about it is perfect and there are no changes.”

“I love that.”

“When else do you get that feeling?” I root through the bar mix to find something tasty. “Besides when you’re on the ice.”

Luca thinks for a second, then shrugs. “No idea.”

“Oh come on—there have to be other times you feel accomplished.”

“Maybe when I’m fixing stuff? Does that count?”

“Fixing stuff?” I echo, tilting my head.

“Yeah. Like—gear. Or furniture. I like working with my hands.” He shrugs. “When something’s broken and I can take it apart and figure out what’s wrong.”

My brows lift. “That’s kind of hot.”

His smirk is slow and dangerous. “You think manual labor is hot?”

“I think competency is hot,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”

He leans in a little. “So if I fix your broken doorknob, what does that get me?”

“That depends,” I murmur, twisting my drink on its napkin. “Do you own a power drill?”

His eyes flash with amusement. “Babe, I own two.”

Babe.

Just a word. But not just a word.

An endearment .

I shake the feathers out of my brain, trying to fight the blush crawling up my neck. “Stop it.”

He is so freaking cute!

I can’t take it. “I want to crawl into your lap right now and eat you up.”

Luca leans a little closer, like we’re the only two people in this loud bar, and I want to kiss him so badly it hurts. “What’s stopping you?”

I glance around—too fast, too guilty—but no one’s watching us.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” I hiss.

“You like trouble.”

He’s not wrong.

His mouth brushes the shell of my ear. “What if we skip dinner? What if I take you back to my place and feed you something else?”

Something else…

Like. His dick?

My mouth waters at the same time my stomach grumbles.

We’re so close. If I lean an inch more, I’ll be kissing him.

We’re laughing when the bartender interrupts with a pair of menus to peruse while we wait, a flash of silver across her smile. “Your table should be ready soon, folks. Sorry for the wait—things are a little crazy tonight.”

“It’s fine,” I say, my voice high and happy. “No worries.”

As she walks away, Luca’s hand returns to my knee under the bar. His thumb starts drawing that same slow circle again and I swear to God, if someone doesn’t bring me carbs soon I will combust .

The room is beginning to buzz around us. People are filing in faster now—bigger groups, louder laughter, the sound of glasses clinking and chairs scraping.

Luca keeps his body angled toward mine, blocking out the noise. I glance down at his hand, aching to hold it.

I think about it for a second too long.

And then? —

“Nova?”

Everything inside me freezes.

Luca’s head swivels toward the voice. Mine does too, heart plunging into my ass.

Gio stands a few feet from our barstools, eyes darting from me to Luca, to where our knees are very much touching, to Luca’s hand on my leg.

“Babineaux—what are you guys doing here?”

Luca’s hand vanishes from my thigh like it’s been burned, and I swing around on the barstool so fast I nearly knock over my margarita with my elbow.

“Gio!” I say too brightly. So loud. My voice is so high-pitched it could shatter glass. “Hey! Wow—what are you doing here?”

My brother blinks as if I’ve lost my damn mind. “Uh—picking up food?”

Right. Because this is a restaurant.

That serves food.

Like restaurants do.

I grab my drink and nearly slosh it onto the counter. “Same. I mean—not picking up—but I was going to! I was going to get takeout. To bring to you and Austin. As a surprise. You know, a postpartum treat. Because you guys deserve it.”

I am very aware that I am babbling.

Beside me, Luca shifts on his barstool, body rigid.

“Well, imagine the coincidence!” I press on, determined to bury myself deeper. “Running into Luca here! Totally random, right?”

I glance sideways at Luca, daring him to go along with it.

He meets my gaze, amused and vaguely impressed. “Yeah,” he drawls slowly. “Totally random.”

Gio is looking at both of us like we’ve grown extra heads. “You two... just happened to be at the same place. At the same time.”

“Yup!” I pop the “p.” “Crazy, right?”

Luca nods. “Wild. ”

I smile so hard my cheeks hurt. “Life is full of surprises.”

Gio’s eyes narrow.

No one speaks for a beat too long. I can feel the tension radiating off my brother like steam from a pressure cooker.

“So…” he says, shifting his takeout bag to the other hand. “You bumped into each other. And decided to sit. At the bar. Together.”

“Exactly.” I’m glad he understands.

“Right next to each other.”

“Yup.”

“With your knees touching.”

“Oh my God—Gio.” I force out a laugh that sounds totally unhinged. “Don’t be weird!”

“I’m not being weird. You’re being weird.”

“I’m being generous. And kind. By bringing you food.”

“Have you ordered anything yet?”

“I was about to.” Which technically, isn’t a lie. I grab a menu and thrust it between us. “See?”

My brother’s stare bores into my soul.

I pray he’s not doing that twin thing where he can read my mind, too.

Shit.

SHIT, SHIT DOUBLE SHIT.

Luca jumps in—finally—with the calm of a man who’s been through actual playoff pressure. “I was here first. Nova sat down while she waited for her order. We were just talking.”

Gio’s gaze shifts to Luca, narrowing like a laser. “Talking.”

“Yup,” Luca says smoothly. “About hockey. I get excited after a win. I was telling her about that second goal. The Skaggs fake.”

He had told me that; right after I wanted to crawl into his lap and lick the sweat off his neck like my margarita glass.

No one moves.

Gio shifts his weight and crosses his arms. His takeout bag rustles ominously. “So, you were already here when she walked in? ”

Luca nods. “Yup.”

“At the bar?”

“Yup.”

“By yourself.”

My non-date nods again. “Watching the game recap on the TV behind the bar like a loser. Single and alone.”

Jesus Christ.

Way to stab me in the heart, knife twisting me in the gut.

I laugh obnoxiously, smacking him on the back.

Gio is still watching us like we’re about to burst into flames. “You two just seem awfully cozy for two people who randomly ran into each other.”

My brother is like a dog with a bone, bearing down. “Cozy? Look around you.”

People everywhere. Packed house. Tables full. Waitstaff bobbing and weaving like they're in a combat zone.

“So many open seats,” I continue, gesturing around theatrically. “Clearly I had so many options.”

Luca adds with an expressionless shrug, “I was here. She walked in. Happy coincidence. End of story.”

I feel horrible.

But it works. Somehow, impossibly, Gio exhales like he’s choosing not to engage any further. “Fine. Whatever. I’m not going to argue with you.”

I agree. He shouldn’t argue with me.

Then, mercifully, my brother checks the gold Rolex encircling his wrist. “I should probably get this food home. Austin’s starving and Vivian was having a meltdown when I checked in.”

Gio’s gaze flickers to Luca, then back to me. “Are you still planning on coming over?”

And just like that, we’re back in dangerous waters.

My stomach twists violently. I open my mouth to respond, stalling because there isn’t an actual answer. I’d lied to his face. Lied to Luca, too. I don’t want to drive to his house tonight. I never intended to .

Luca doesn’t even look at me—but the tightness in his body sharpens again. His knee nudges mine like a silent warning: Choose your words carefully.

So I do.

“If you want,” I offer, all faux-bright and bubbly. “I was going to bring food.”

Beside me, Luca doesn’t twitch. Doesn’t exhale. Just sips from his drink.

“Don’t bother,” Gio says, distracted now as he checks his phone. “It’s fine—it’s late. We don’t have enough food for three people anyway.”

It’s not fine.

It’s absolutely not fine.

“Text me next time,” he tells me.

“I will.” I stand to hug him, wrapping my arms around my brother’s neck, standing on my tiptoes to do so. “I’ll probably hang around with him if he doesn’t mind.” I nod my head toward Luca. “Little sisters and all that.”

“You’re not little and you’re not his sister.”

Don’t I know it…

“Obviously not,” I say with a twinkly laugh, pretending to tease. “But someone has to keep him humble.”

Luca, to his credit, doesn’t so much as twitch. Doesn’t glance at me or fumble the lie we’ve silently agreed to maintain. But I can see it simmering.

The tension in his shoulders.

The tightness in his jaw. The slight flare of his nostrils.

There’s a tic in his temple, pulsing faintly.

His hands, relaxed on the bar seconds ago, have stilled.

Luca was right.

I am so much trouble.