Page 55 of Forbidden Hockey

A wave of scary tingles moves through my body. Fucking Christ he’s the devil sometimes. I bet some people would ignore their older brothers, but those people don’t have Hunter for an older brother. I text him immediately so that he doesn’t show up on my damn doorstep.

Me

Tomorrow work for you?

I add the saluting emoji just to be smartass. He needs to lighten the fuck up. Maybe if he does, he’ll go easier on me. Maybe if he lightens up, he’ll finally find a partner of his own.

Hunt

Stop by for breakfast.

That right there. That’s what makes my heart squeeze so much about my overbearing brother. Things like breakfast and dinner. He has to feed me, still making sure I’m nurtured, even when I know I’ll be read the Riot Act.

Me

Hunt

Don’t be a smartass. See you tomorrow.

Yeah, he’s totally laughing at me, though. I know it. Mission accomplished.

Istride into the kitchen where Trav’s unloading the meat order like I knew he would be. Unloading the meat is the job of the guy who delivers it, but Trav always helps him.

“Gets it done faster and helps me keep in shape,” he’s said. But I know the real reason is that his itch to help is too damn prevalent to ignore.

We set eyes on each other, and my stomach does the special swoop it does for him, only it’s ten times fucking stronger today. The sun’s shining for once, and it’s blasting through the windows as if to illuminate the moment. I saw him yesterday, but yesterday might as well have been an eternity ago. Christ. Is this what falling in love feels like? If so, I’ve been abducted by it. I’m a different person than I was. Even if this whole thing goes tits up, I’m forever changed to this Dirk, “the one consumed by the way my man is looking at me right now”.

He gives a quick glance to the open back door—no delivery guy coming through yet—and he shoves his thick fingers into the waistband of my jeans, pulling me toward him. I stumble, off-balance in the best way, landing against him, my arms naturally reaching up to encircle his neck as our lips press together.

Coffee and mint—that’s what he tastes like. He must have brushed his teeth and then had coffee.

“Hey,” I say once I get my breath back. But when I see his face, my brows press together. “Did I do something wrong?”

“That’s not your hat,” he says.

“So?”

“So, it’s my son’s hat.”

Ooooh, I get it. He must feel wrong kissing me while I’m wearing his son’s hat. “Sorry, I’ll steal one of the Alderchucks’ hats next time.” It’s harder to claim Jack’s these days, but I could probably manage Stacey’s or Casey’s.

“Or you could just wear your own.”

Huh? It’s not because it’s his son’s? Is he…? “Are you jealous, Trav?”

“There’s no denying they’re a better age for you to date.”

“Not this again. It’s too fucking early in the morning for this.” And I had to deal with said son and Stacey’s weird shit already.

He doesn’t get to respond. Footsteps clomp their way in, and we jump apart like we’re on fire. If the delivery guy, Turner, saw anything, he doesn’t say. More likely, he doesn’t give a shit about the drama of others, which is a motto I should adopt.

“Last box,” Turner says, stacking it with the others. I’ll help Trav sort them in the fridge. “Oh, hey, Dirk. Trav’s son, right?”

Fuck me. Just fuck me straight to hell. Why does today suck so bad? It was supposed to be amazing, and maybe we’d fuck. But not only did I have to watch two of my best friends be idiots in love, even though they’re not dating, I was forced to make an appointment to get chewed out by my brother, mildly toldoff by my man for wearing someone else’s hat, and now fucking Turner’s comment, making sure it’ll be a whole ice age before Travis ever puts his hands on me again.

Can I punch Turner? He’s got to be a meaningless side character in this mess. No one will care if I punch Turner, will they? I mean, clearly, he has the memory of a gnat. How many times have I accepted orders from him? Has he thought that I was Trav’s son this whole time?

But it’s a good dose of reality. If we tell people we’re together, we’re gonna get that. A lot. I think sometimes people mistake Mercy—Jack’s boyfriend, and my hockey coach—as Jack’s older brother, even though they look nothing alike.