Page 3 of Hot Pucking Summer (Hot Summer #2)

Soaking in the hot tub, I take in the glorious view of the lake as early morning sunlight dances across its glossy blue surface. Western Bluebirds chirp in the trees, and I relax in the warm water, the jets working their magic on my muscles.

My family hardly uses this place anymore, so when I asked Mom if she'd mind if I put in a hot tub on the back patio, she was fine with it. We have a lot of nice vacation homes, but this one is my favorite. I like that it's nestled in the hills overlooking the lake, but what I like even more is that Cumcircle—yes, that's really the name of the town, and no, I'm not high—is a quiet, private place. A small town, sure, but one where folks mind their own damn business.

It's the perfect getaway for me. I can blend in and be nobody here. Not a leading forward in the NHL. Not part of the Anderson family dynasty. Just me, a normal, regular guy…with exceptionally well-conditioned hair.

The glass doors slide open, alerting me to Cloyce's presence. And I know it's Cloyce without turning to look because no way Draper would be awake this early. I turn my head. He approaches somewhat tentatively, dressed in a lightweight gray hoodie and black jersey shorts that cling to his legs perfectly.

I'm pretty sure that by the end of dinner last night, the awkwardness of me catching him and Draper fucking had been erased.

It sure as hell won't be erased from my spank bank anytime soon. I jerked off last night and then again this morning thinking about the way Draper was pounding into him and the way Cloyce was taking it like a pro. I've only met him a few times and had formed the opinion he was a bit reserved. There was nothing reserved about the way he was taking that D. And then when his eyes met mine—and he freaking came again—man, that was the single hottest, filthiest moment of my entire life. How am I meant to forget that?

I lift my chin and smile. "Hey."

He bypasses the hot tub and leans against the railing, taking in the view. "Hey."

I scan the outline of his body, the flimsy sleepwear doing little to contain his stocky physique. Draper has been going on incessantly for months now about how hot Cloyce is, and I have to agree with my bestie. Cloyce is fucking delectable.

A thread of guilt worms its way into my gut. Is it wrong to think about your best friend's partner in this way? Ordinarily, yeah, it would be. But there's something about this weekend that makes me think this isn't an ordinary situation.

My mind wanders back to that night a couple of years ago when Draper caught me getting off. Never in all our years of friendship had we ever done anything sexual together, and for the life of me, I still don't know what possessed me to share my deepest, darkest fantasy with him. My brain couldn't process when he said he wanted the same thing, so I left it on the shelf. I've dated a little since then, but I knew in my gut that none of my partners were right for that scenario.

But Cloyce? He's something else entirely. Could he be the one? Is Draper still open to it, or has he forgotten about it? And what about Cloyce? He brushed off my compliment last night as a joke. Does he think I'm full of shit?

Cloyce spins around. "Water nice?"

"Yeah. You should come in."

Color infuses his cheeks. "Oh, I don't think so."

Is he still embarrassed about what I walked in on yesterday? Or, wait… Is it me?

Even though my invitation for him to join me is purely innocent, maybe my reputation—which is ninety percent bullshit and ten percent untrue—precedes me. Maybe he assumes I'm just another dumb jock on the hunt for dick.

"Or we can make breakfast?" I suggest, scratching at my wet chest. I've had to grow a thick skin in life, and I've learned not to give a shit about what other people think of me. But the idea that Cloyce might think I'm a fuckboy bugs me. I shove that thought away and refocus on the present moment. "Bet the smell of coffee and bacon will wake Draper up."

Cloyce's eyes brighten. "That's a great idea. I make killer scrambled eggs."

"Awesome. Can't wait to try 'em." I stand in the hot tub, and Cloyce's golden-brown eyes rove up and down my body. "Do you mind?" I ask, pointing to the towel hanging on the chair.

"Oh. Of course."

He stretches out his arm, offering me the towel. Our fingers brush for the slightest moment, and I swear the color in his cheeks deepens.

"I'll go get changed and meet you in the kitchen," he says before quickly scurrying away. I hate him leaving, but man, the sight of those two big-ass globes bouncing around in his shorts makes me grateful I'm alone so no one can see how hard it's made me.

Yep. This is going to be a very interesting weekend indeed.

Cloyce wasn't exaggerating. His scrambled eggs were the bomb. I was right, too. The smell of caffeine raised Draper from his slumber. Over breakfast, I suggested we spend the morning by the lake.

"Are you sure I can't take anything else?" Cloyce asks from behind me on the narrow dirt track we're on that leads to the lake. "I feel like you're carrying everything."

"No. It's fine. It's Draper who should be offering, but oh, that's right, he had to go take one of his twenty-minute showers after breakfast."

Cloyce laughs, and it's a light and airy sound that swirls in my chest. "He is not a morning person, and he takes forever to get ready."

"Tell me about it. That's why I suggested we take this stuff down ourselves. Otherwise, we wouldn't get down to the water before midday."

Cloyce has a beach bag slung over his shoulder and a water bottle in each hand, while I'm balancing the inflatable raft under one arm, have the cooler digging into my palms, and am dragging the folding chairs behind me. It's heavy, and it's a lot, but there's no way I'd let Cloyce take anything else. This dirt track is slippery, and I don't want to run the risk of him falling.

And just as I have that thought, I hear the crunch of dirt behind me followed by a sharp gasp. I turn and drop everything when I see Cloyce sliding on the loose path, his arms flailing. I rush over to him, but I don't make it in time. He lands on the ground with a sharp yelp. My stomach drops as I see him grab his ankle, his face twisted with pain.

"Stay still, stay still," I murmur, crouching down next to him, assessing him for any other injuries. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No," he mutters through clenched teeth, tears welling in his eyes.

"Okay. I'm going to take you back to the house."

"I don't think I can get up."

"That's fine. I'll carry you."

His eyes meet mine, wide with something more than just pain. "You can't. I'm too heav?—"

I scoop him up in one swift motion, his weight solid but manageable in my arms. "I've got you," I say as he stares at me in disbelief. "Hang on to me, baby."

His eyes widen even more, but he doesn't say anything, gently resting his head against my shoulder as I take him back to the house.

"Oh my god, what happened?" Draper cries out, crossing the living room in three giant strides.

He was still in the shower when Cloyce and I came back, so I carefully set Cloyce down on the sofa, propped his leg on the coffee table, and fetched two Advil and a bag of frozen veggies that I placed over his swollen ankle.

"It's okay. I'm fine," Cloyce says, sounding embarrassed even though he has no reason to be. "I slipped. Jax had to carry me home, which I still don't know how he managed."

Draper drops to his knees next to me. I've lifted the frozen veggies off Cloyce's ankle and am assessing the situation. I'm no doctor obviously, but I've sprained my ankle more than a few times on the ice, so I have a good idea what to look for.

"Thoughts?" Draper asks, clearly worried.

"It's not broken," I answer, gently pressing around the swollen area, feeling for any odd bumps or spots that make Cloyce flinch. "Tell me if this hurts too much," I tell him.

"It's okay," he says, forcing a smile. He's still in pain, but it doesn't seem to be as bad as it was in the immediate aftermath of the fall.

"I think we should see if you can stand," I say. "That way we'll know if it's sprained or, fingers crossed, just twisted."

Cloyce nods, so Draper stretches his arm out, and I do the same. Cloyce slides his palms into our hands, and the rush of heat that envelops me is like an inferno. I exhale sharply and remind myself to focus on the task at hand.

We pull Cloyce upright…and he's able to stand. "I can feel it, but it's not too bad," he tells us.

I nod. "Good. Chances are it's only twisted, then."

We help him back down, and Draper and I kneel on either side of him. "We're going to look after you, baby," Draper says. "Right, Jax?"

"Of course. Consider us at your beck and call."

"I feel terrible," Cloyce moans, staring up at the ceiling. "I've ruined the weekend."

"You haven't ruined anything," Draper assures him before turning to me. He opens his mouth to say something but doesn't get the words out. His gaze has fallen to where I'm rubbing my fingers up and along Cloyce's calf.

Shit. I hadn't even realized I was doing that. I'm about to stop when, silently, he mirrors my movement on Cloyce's other calf.

My heart starts pounding. What do I do now? Draper means the world to me, and I know he's totally in love with Cloyce. One foul move, and I could fuck everything up. On the other hand, he hasn't asked me to stop. Neither has Cloyce. So maybe I should keep going?

I slide my hand a little higher up his leg, using that as my excuse to bring my gaze toward the sexy ginger. His chest is rising and falling, his eyes darting between Draper and me.

"It's okay," Draper whispers softly, as if sensing Cloyce's confusion.

"What's going on?" Cloyce asks.

"We're just trying to make you feel good, baby," Draper replies then aims his eyes at me before looking up at Cloyce again. "Do you like this, or do you want us to stop?"

Cloyce swallows then gives a series of little nods, like he's mentally pushing past something. "I… I like it."

Draper smiles. "Good. Because nothing would make me happier than my best friend and my boyfriend getting along."

"I think we're getting along just fine," I say, smiling softly as my hand hedges up past Cloyce's knee to his thigh. The movement in his shorts is instant. "Don't you think, Cloyce?"

He takes a few seconds to respond, his eyes half-lidded. "I don't know if I'm still in shock from the fall, or if I'm daydreaming and none of this is real, but what is happening here? How can I possibly have two sexy hockey players rubbing my legs?"

I grin. "Because you're sexy yourself."

"And because I'd like to share you," Draper says, causing Cloyce's mouth to gape in astonishment. "Only if you want to, that is. And there's absolutely no pressure."

"None," I reiterate firmly. "You tell us to stop, we stop, and we move on like nothing happened."

Cloyce thinks about it for a few seconds then reaches down and takes Draper's and my hands in his and places them over the bulge tenting his shorts. "I still can't believe this is really happening, but I'm curious. I'd like to…try."

"You sure, baby?" Draper checks, and Cloyce nods.

"Yeah," he replies breathily. "I am."