Page 10 of Cross Check Daddies (Miami Icemen #3)

CHAPTER TEN

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The sunset is ridiculous tonight. Like something out of a painting—cotton candy pink and honey gold streaking across the horizon, water reflecting all of it in molten swirls.

Brooke is laughing, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun as we stand in front of a tiny beach café window. The wind picks at her sundress, tugging it against her legs. She’s barefoot, toes curling into the sand like she’s always belonged here.

I hand her the cake, double chocolate with some kind of mousse frosting. “All right. You said it’s on your list. Dessert before dinner.”

“We just ate.”

“The burgers? That was a snack.”

“That makes no sense.” She laughs, and the sound unspools something in my chest.

“C’mon, I am trying here. We tackle the list slowly. So, let’s say the burger was a snack… Now cake is dessert.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Who said so? We make the rules, Brooke.”

She squints at me. “You’re really not letting this go.”

“I’m persistent.”

“You’re annoying.”

I shrug. “You’re still eating the cake, though.”

Her mouth curves slightly before she takes a forkful. Her eyes flutter shut for half a second. “Okay. That’s stupid good.”

“I told you.”

We drift a few steps away from the café and sit on a low blanket I threw into the bike’s back compartment earlier, toes nearly in the surf, the cake between us on a paper plate.

She’s licking chocolate off her bottom lip and not even trying to make it seductive, which somehow makes it worse. I shift, adjusting the waistband of my shorts, clearing my throat like it’s going to do a damn thing.

“You actually planning on ticking all thirty off that list?” I ask, tearing into my own slice.

She leans back on her elbows, hair falling behind her shoulders. “I think some of them were more aspirational than realistic. Like the surfing one? I told you I tried that once and swallowed half the Pacific.”

“I told you I’ll teach you. I’m good.”

“Of course you are.”

We both laugh, letting silence sit between us after that. It’s comfortable. Easy. Dangerous.

“Okay,” I say, standing. “Next item.”

She watches me, wary. “Which one?”

“Dance barefoot on the beach. No music.”

“I didn’t bring a speaker.”

“Exactly.”

She shakes her head but slides her fingers into mine anyway as I tug her to her feet. The sand is cool now, damp with the tide. I pull her close, one hand on her waist, the other holding hers loosely.

We move slowly, feet shifting in soft syncopation to waves and wind and whatever rhythm lives under the stars.

Her chest presses against mine in shallow breaths. Her eyes are locked to my mouth, her face tilted up just enough that I can taste the proximity. My thumb brushes the soft curve of her waist.

Something shifts.

The air around us tightens. Her fingers flex at my shoulder, and my grip on her hip deepens instinctively. Her lashes lower. She breathes out like she’s about to say something and then?—

She steps back.

The air drops a few degrees, the space between us jarring in its suddenness.

“I can’t,” she says quickly. “I just...I’m not ready.”

I nod, still catching my breath. “Okay.”

“This was fun. Really fun. But casual is...what I need right now. Not complicated. You’re Cam’s brother. You’re—this would be complicated.”

“I get it.” And I do. Even if part of me wants to punch a hole through the sand.

She runs a hand through her hair, shaking it loose behind her. “Can we still be friends?”

I smile. “I’m pretty great at being a friend.”

Her grin returns, easier now. She slides her sandals back on. We walk back to the road, the silence again friendly, not stiff. I grab my bike and promise to follow her car back, just to make sure she gets home safe. She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue.

In her parking lot, she puts the car in park and steps out.

“Huh! Interesting. I could have never thought you lived here.”

“You live here too?” she asks.

I lean on the seat of my bike. “Nah. But Coach Ace does. You’re neighbors.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Seriously?”

“Swear. Top floor.”

“Well, that explains a lot. Although, between you and me, I don’t think your coach likes me very much.”

I chuckle. “Don’t take it personally. Coach doesn’t like anyone. Except maybe Daisy, and that’s cause he is related to her.”

She shifts her weight, studying me. “Are we okay?”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t mean to make anything weird.”

“You didn’t. I promise.”

We hug. It starts off short, light, but somewhere in the middle, it lingers. She’s soft against me, warm and sun-salted and smelling faintly of cake and vanilla. When she pulls back, her face is right there, close again.

I almost say something I shouldn't. But instead, I ask, “Can I ask something?”

She tilts her head.

“What happened between you and Cam? Back then.”

She sighs. “We were just kids.”

“And now?”

She glances toward her building. “It’s getting late.”

She is deflecting my question. It is clear as day. She leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, soft and abrupt, then walks toward the lobby without another word.

I watch her go, standing beside my bike like an idiot with sand still stuck between my toes.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Some alert from an app. I ignore it.

Because all I can think about is the way she looked at me during that dance. The way her voice dipped when she said she wasn’t ready. And the way my stomach had tightened when she’d said “Cam’s brother” like that mattered.

It does. But not enough to kill whatever this is.

This isn’t a crush. It’s not the same thing I felt watching her kiss my brother back in high school and wondering what that might be like. This is more layered. Messier.

And I’m completely screwed.

I don’t head home. Not yet. The smart thing would be to ride back to the house, shoot the shit with Cam like I didn’t just dance in the sand with the girl he used to love.

Like I’m not replaying the way her eyes closed halfway, mouth parted just slightly, waiting for something I should’ve given her. But I don’t.

I turn the bike around and head back toward the beach. Engine low, the streets thinning out, warm wind against my skin like the night’s trying to talk me down. It doesn’t work.

The beach is mostly empty now, just a few couples lingering by the water, some teenager with a Bluetooth speaker playing something slow and sad. I walk past them and drop down onto the spot from earlier. I run my hand through the sand, dragging it out in long, uneven lines.

What would’ve happened if I’d just kissed her?

I picture it too easily. Her fingers tightening in my shirt, her lips tasting like chocolate and salt, her breath hitching against mine before everything else falls away.

Maybe she would’ve kissed me back. Maybe she would’ve pulled away faster. Maybe we would’ve ruined everything in a heartbeat. But I wanted to. Holy hell, I wanted to. Still do.

I lean back on my elbows and stare at the stars like they have answers. Like the sky gives a damn about any of this.

She’s right. I know that. Whatever this is between us, it’s a mess waiting to happen.

Cam doesn’t know. None of the guys do. And Brooke’s just trying to keep her head above water with a job, a kid, and a past that clearly still haunts her in ways she doesn’t talk about.

I’m not what she needs. I shouldn’t want her.

But sitting here, hearing the ocean crawl in and out like it’s breathing for me, I can’t stop thinking about the almost. How close we came. How fast it flipped from teasing into something sharp and real.

I could’ve kissed her.

I didn’t.

And now I’m lying in the sand like a damn idiot, wondering what would’ve happened if I had, knowing I will never get the chance to do it anyway.