Page 47

Alana - 18 months later

F rankly, it was obscene.

And deeply unnecessary.

I had been staring off into space while my coffee brewed, thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong tonight when he had joined me in the kitchen.

Wearing only his boxers and, for reasons unknown, his skates over one of his shoulders. He looked indecent. All sleep soft with pillow creases embedded into his cheekbones, his hair an artful mess. Forever thick thighs and strong arms. The skates on his shoulder were a reminder that he could still be lethal if he got onto that ice in a competitive manner, which was making him even sexier.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye while I dumped my V60 in the sink and picked up my coffee. He was pulling things together for his breakfast like it was normal to just roll out of bed and throw a pair of skates over your shoulder.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked once I had taken a sip of my coffee.

“There she is,” he laughed.

My eyebrows drew together. “There who is? ”

“You. You were all in your head and I needed something that would drag you out of it. Come on, let’s hear it,” he said as he gestured down at his body.

“You look ridiculous.”

He smiled. “What else?”

“And you look like Mr. December.”

“Oh, now there is an idea. You know, I might give you a calendar that is nothing but me for Christmas. Then you can always stare at me.”

“We live together. I can stare at you all I want already,” I pointed out.

“You could if you actually came home.” He pouted and became even sexier. I hated him.

“I’ve been sleeping above the bakery for barely two weeks and besides, you’ve been here, there, and everywhere with your hockey stuff so it’s not like we would have been seeing much of each other anyway.”

Liam did everything he could to make the new site mirror the set-up in Detroit, which included an apartment over the bakery. Mostly because he didn’t like me walking home late at night, even though our house was less than fifteen minutes away. If he was home though, he would make that walk all the time.

“Hockey stuff. Just inspiring the next generation of ice hockey players. No big deal.”

“Getting a lot of mothers interested in hockey as well, I bet,” I half muttered.

“They are interested for all of five minutes, and then they either get over it or notice my left hand.”

He waved his left hand around, showing off a silver band nestled on his ring finger, like I wasn’t aware that it was there. We weren’t married. When we had a conversation about marriage, it became abundantly clear that we were both stubborn about the whole getting married to each other thing. Being told it was inevitable from a young age made us both determined to never do it. We could be in love and live together and all that shit, but we couldn’t get married.

However, Liam learned something that I had known for a while—a ring got people off your back a lot quicker than just saying that you had a partner. So, he started wearing one.

Liam took his skates off and hung them over the island chairs.

“I didn’t risk cutting a nipple off for you to go back into your head. What do you need?”

I put my coffee on the island and wrapped my arms around him. His arms held me tightly and I sunk into his warmth.

“This is a good start,” I mumbled against his skin.

“It’s gonna be fine. This is a soft launch full of people who love you, and then on Monday, when you open to the public, they will flock to it just like they did in Detroit. We’ve got hockey teams here too. They can keep you in business.”

“No one can keep me in business in the way that Teddy can,” I joked.

“He’ll be there today. I’ll try to stop him from buying up everything. But back to you, today is going to be fine. You picked this location because you knew it would work. You have great products and the best damn brownies in the world. You’re gonna be fine. And if it goes to shit, which it won’t, there will be other opportunities.”

“Can you put the skates back on over your shoulder and go to the launch party looking like that? I think that would help.” I felt the rumble of his laugh through his chest.

“That is for your eyes only. And the eyes of the people who get my calendar.”

“You’re not serious about the calendar, are you?” If he was, there would be no other eyes but mine that see it.

“You did all the extra photography for the yearbook, right? You’re good with a camera. Can you imagine how much fun we could have with some underwear, sexy positions, and body oil?”

Suddenly I had an idea. “You got anything to do today before tonight?”

“No, I’m here for you.”

I teased a finger across the hem of the back of his boxers.

“It’s technically game day, right?”

I felt him start to stiffen against me.

“It can be game day if you want.” His voice was deeper than normal. That rich, honey drip that made my whole body tingle.

I smiled to myself as I slipped both hands under his boxers and palmed his ass. He moaned.

“It’s game day, baby. Can you go get on the bed? Keep the underwear on. And don’t worry, I’ll probably let you come before we leave.”

“Are you telling me that there is a chance you are going to keep me on edge for hours and still not let me come?” He sounded both pained and excited.

“It’s a small chance, but yeah, a chance.”

I was going to let him come. Probably more than once. I was so sure we could get him to five. I could already feel the stress of tonight melt away as he handed power over to me.

“I’m gonna get my own back for this, at a time when you have a little less on and I’m not going to summer hockey camps every other week. I just want you to know that.”

I pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“I look forward to you trying,” I whispered before I let him go and do what I asked.

Sweet Nothing: Westchester had a line out the door on the first Monday that we opened.