Page 15 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)

I rolled my eyes and propped my phone on the stand I used for skincare videos, wedged between a jade roller and a half-empty bottle of retinol. With my back to it, I started lining up the products for my very basic nighttime routine—cleanser, serum, moisturizer, the works.

“Considering I never once missed you in 15 years, no, I’m good,” I said, grabbing a headband to push my hair back.

“You and your son with the sick burns.” Beckett laughed. “At this rate, I need to invest in some aloe just to survive hanging out with you two.”

I smiled, walking across the bathroom to toss my socks into the hamper. “As I said, I need some ground rules if you’re going to be around Jace more.”

“I’m listening.”

“Number one. Clear expectations.” I peeled off Beckett’s hoodie and hung it on the hook behind the door. “If there’ s even a chance you’ll have to cancel on him, you tell him in advance. No last-minute disappearances. He’s had enough of that.”

“Makes sense,” Beckett said. “And yeah... I hate that for him. What else?”

“Number two. No bullying.” I reached for the waistband of my shirt, dragging it and my sports bra off in one motion. “He’s got a sharp tongue and can take a joke, but don’t push too far. Ryan is...”

I paused, trying to find the right words.

“He hard on him?” Beckett’s voice had dropped, rough and low. There was something sharp underneath it—protective, maybe. Dangerous.

A shiver danced across my skin at the sound, heat blooming low in my stomach despite the chilly bathroom air. I was still facing away, my bare back to the phone. A few feet of distance shouldn’t have made his voice hit me like that.

“He’s critical,” I said quietly. “Jace needs structure, but he’s still a kid. He needs to feel like someone’s proud of him. Like someone sees him trying.”

There was a pause, then a throat-clearing on the other end.

“Got it. Any more rules, Mama?”

“Yes, about that.” My fingers slid beneath the waistband of my leggings. “I can’t do this flirty thing.”

“Emmy—”

“No, let me finish.” I pushed the leggings down and kicked them into the hamper, now standing in nothing but my underwear, still turned away. “I’m a divorced mom with a son who comes first. I’m not looking for anything. I don’t want the lines getting blurry.”

“Hey, wait?— ”

“Just let me say it.” My voice was shaky, but I needed to get it out. “Whatever this is—it feels flirty. I can’t do flirty.”

A low groan slipped out of Beckett’s mouth, and I slid my thighs together at the sound, wishing it was for other reasons. And hell, when was the last time I’d thought about sex? Unwilling to go there, I reached across and pulled his hoodie back off the hook, sliding it back on.

“Oh, fuck ,” Beckett said, his voice nearly guttural now. “Tell me you didn’t just put my hoodie on over your naked body. Is that what you’re sleeping in?”

My knees nearly buckled.

Heart hammering, I whipped around and froze at the sight of Beckett’s face lit up on my phone screen.

Video call.

FaceTime.

I slapped both hands over my chest, the sleeves of his hoodie falling halfway over my fingers. “How long have you been watching me?”

He winced, one hand over his eyes with just the smallest gap between two fingers. “The whole time?” he said, then laughed. “I tried to stop you. I swear I did. Luckily—or unluckily—you didn’t turn around until now. Rear view only.”

I dragged my hands down my face, mortification setting my skin on fire. “Oh my God.”

“You have a fabulous ass, for the record,” Beckett said, grinning. “But I won’t say that because—what was it? No flirting? Good thing it’s just a fact .”

My whole body pulsed with embarrassment, as well as something hot and totally inappropriate.

“I was about to bend over and put my hair in a bun,” I muttered. “You would’ve gotten the full show. ”

Beckett leaned back in the frame, lacing his hands behind his head like he was settling in for Pay-Per-View. “Don’t let me stop you. I’m learning so much about divorced single moms. This is extremely educational.”

“Is there a way to turn back time five minutes?” I groaned. “Delete this entire call from your memory?”

“Over my cold, dead body.” He leaned closer again. “When I’m old and senile and can’t remember my name, I’ll still remember the finest ass I’ve ever seen on little Emmy Hudson.”

“Meyers.”

Beckett’s head tilted. “I don’t think Ryan has a claim on you anymore, Peach .”

His voice dropped even lower, threaded with something darker. Something dangerous.

“In fact,” he said, “I think you’re ripe for the picking.”

My breath caught, fingers clenching in the hem of the hoodie. Everything inside me went still.

“Beckett...”

“Go to bed, Emmy,” he said, voice soft but commanding. “Slide under those covers in nothing but my hoodie. Sleep tight knowing I’ll be there to pick up your kid in the morning.”

His eyes sparkled, and then, “I promise to be a good role model if you promise to tell me when you touch yourself wearing my clothes.”

My jaw dropped.

Beckett just smiled, cocky and unrepentant.

“Goodnight, Emmy.”

The screen went dark.

I stood there, staring at the phone in stunned silence, my entire body thrumming .

By the time I crawled into bed and turned out the lights, all I could think about were his parting words. I tossed and turned, trying to force them out of my head—but the second my hand slid beneath the covers, his smirk came rushing back.

I refused to picture those blue eyes, that lazy grin, that infuriating, gorgeous man.

Two sharp knocks at my door had my hand jerking away like I’d been burned.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

“Night, buddy!” I called back, way too loud.

I turned on my side, heart still racing, Beckett’s voice replaying in my head like a broken record.

He was off-limits, even to my imagination. And I was going to remember that, startingnow.