Page 29 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)
“Oh, fuck, right there,” Beckett groaned as I rolled the pair of lacrosse balls over the tight line of muscle running from his low back into his hip on Sunday morning.
We technically weren’t supposed to see each other today. But the SOS text he’d sent this morning— Overdid it. Dying. Please help —and the noises he was making now told me exactly how badly yesterday’s move-in had gone.
I leaned in, repositioning the balls beneath his glutes, and pressed into his piriformis. “Let me know if I need to ease up.”
His response was a long, guttural sound that vibrated somewhere low in my spine. “Don’t stop,” he murmured, voice thick and wrecked. “This feels incredible.”
My fingers paused just for a second. Focus . But God, the way his shirt clung to the muscles of his back, how the heat of his body radiated through the cotton—how was I supposed to ignore any of that?
I turned my gaze to the wall, trying to keep my mind clinical. I was a professional, dammit. But all I could think about was the way his breath hitched when I pressed just a little deeper.
“You’re ridiculously tight,” I said, then immediately regretted the words. “Sorry. I should just keep my mouth shut.”
Beckett laughed, low and unguarded. “This is so much better than Frankie abusing the shit out of me. You can say anything you want, and I’ll just tell you more. ”
My hand stilled again. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes catching mine with a heat that nearly undid me.
I cleared my throat and reached for the next spot on his glute and pressed harder, focusing on the task at hand. “I hold all the power here, hotshot.”
His head dropped and a loud groan escaped him, then his chest shook with laughter. “Just how it should be, Peach.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not with the way my hands were already trembling.
Beckett let out one more exaggerated moan just to mess with me, and I rolled my eyes, stepping away from the table.
“You done putting on a show?”
He glanced over his shoulder again, still grinning like he got entirely too much satisfaction out of teasing me. “Depends. Are you going to go to The Lantern with us?”
I blinked, surprised by the question. “What?”
“New Year’s Eve. You, me, Ty. Small-town chaos, mediocre beer, and shitty line dancing. You in?”
I tugged the sleeves of my shirt down, just for something to do with my hands. “I didn’t know you were invited.”
“Should I not be?”
Beckett pushed himself up slowly, arms straining a little as he sat upright on the table. I didn’t move fast enough, and suddenly, we were nose to nose .
His knee brushed my hip as he settled, and a zap of electricity shot through me, snapping my gaze to his. He smelled like spearmint gum and some sort of woodsy soap. My fingers twitched, aching to reach for him.
I cleared my throat. “Ty didn’t mention you were coming, too.”
Beckett’s smirk deepened. “I mean, I own a cowboy hat. It seems a shame to waste it.”
I snorted. “You do not.”
His hand lifted off the table and a finger landed under my chin, tilting my face up so I couldn’t look away. His voice dropped just a little, and the dare in it made my breath catch. “Don’t test me, Peach.”
I moved back abruptly, trying to put distance between us, but Beckett rose to full height, moving slower, favoring his right side.
“You good?” I rested a hand lightly on his waist to steady him, a justifiable move. Totally clinical. Except his skin was warm under my palm, and his breath hitched when I touched him.
Somehow the space between us shrank again, like the room was conspiring against my self-control, and I realized just how alone we were in the studio this morning.
“Getting there.” His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before flicking back up. “So? New Years?”
I stepped away from him and grabbed the tablet to input our session notes. “Well, with the promise of seeing you in a cowboy hat, I have to go now.”
Beckett tilted his head, eyes narrowing just a little. “So, you’ll dance with me?”
I tried and failed to look away, my cheeks burning with a blush I had no way to hide. “If you’re lucky, sure. But I’d suggest working on your exercises, bud. You won’t be able to keep up.”
He grinned again, wicked and easy, like he already knew luck had nothing to do with it.
I scurried back to the front door, unlocking it and putting my coat on. Beckett followed at a slower pace, but already he was standing taller than he had when he’d come in.
“What are your plans for the rest of the week besides abusing me every morning?”
He pushed the door open then held it for me.
I clicked the button to remote start the SUV, then turned to lock the door when it closed behind me.
“Pilates as normal this week, then Christmas is Thursday, then Jace leaves. As much as my everyday life with him is exhausting, I hate when he’s gone.
I’m too sad to be good company, and too lonely to be alone, so I read and do puzzles and take baths and all the things I otherwise don’t have time for. ”
The words were out of my mouth before I realized how pathetic they sounded, and I blushed for what had to be the tenth time this morning despite the chill breeze blowing my hair around like a tornado.
“Sorry, that was depressing.”
Beckett shook his head, then looked out over the mountain town. “No, I get it.”
“Is your mom settling in okay?” I asked, stalling just a little longer.
His attention came back to me, and this time his smile was softer than when he teased.
It wasn’t the same as the sexy grin when he was flirting—no, this one was a little distant and held a level of sadness I hated seeing there.
It made me want to rise on my toes and kiss him, just to pull him back from wherever his mind had gone .
“Yeah. She’s good. I’m going to bring her to Pilates after the new year.”
I must have looked like a bobblehead I was nodding so much, then jabbed a thumb toward my car, needing to end whatever this was. “I’ve got some last-minute errands to run, but I’ll look up rehab plans for her that will be perfect for Parkinson’s.”
“Thank you, Emmy.” Beckett brushed a stray hair off my face, then let his warm palm rest on the side of my neck. “I haven’t said that yet, but I keep thinking it.”
I swallowed hard, his gentle touch sending heat down my spine, even as the bitter wind bit at my cheeks.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I said, though my voice came out quieter than I meant. “It’s nice. Helping you. I like it.”
His thumb grazed my jaw before he dropped his hand, and the absence of his touch was its own kind of ache.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He backed away a step. Still watching me.
I nodded again, sure my head was about to roll right down the street. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
He turned toward his truck and limped the few steps to it without looking back. I watched him go anyway—watched the way he moved, slower than usual, the way his broad shoulders rose and fell like he was carrying more than just a healing injury.
I hated how much I wanted to be the one to ease that weight.
Sliding into my car, I sat there a moment longer than necessary, fingers curled tight around the heated steering wheel. It wasn’t just that he was stupid hot or made me laugh with his never-ending flirting.
It was how he looked at me— really looked at me, like I wasn’t just Jace’s mom or Ty’s sister or the girl running the studio on fumes, and that was terrifying.
I exhaled hard and pulled out onto the street, telling myself I was imagining things. That whatever this was would burn itself out. But even as I drove away, I could still feel the echo of his hand on my neck like it belonged there.
I did my best to keep things professional on Monday and Tuesday morning, focusing on Beckett’s hip and his recovery timeline.
Jace had told him about my research study with Dr. Riviera investigating healing times for professional athletes when incorporating Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy, and that gave us something other than sexual tension to discuss.
Luckily, I could tell he was following all of Frankie’s and my instructions, and his progress was coming along well. I, on the other hand, was having a mental breakdown over the idea of going out with him and Ty on New Year’s Eve next week.
By the time Tuesday evening rolled around, I’d worked myself up so much, I was pacing in front of the studio window, looking for Stevie. We’d exchanged numbers and had texted throughout the week, but with school officially out for winter break, I wasn’t sure if she’d show.
Shannon stared at me through squinted eyes, but she’d been too focused on finals to ask about why my hands were practically pretzel-shaped I’d wrung them so many times since Beckett left this morning.
Headlights flashed in the studio window, and I clapped when I saw Stevie’s minivan. My new friend climbed out, then opened the sliding door.
“They’re here,” I said, and Shannon clicked the computer off, coming around the desk to stand next to me.
The moment Stevie opened the door, Shannon held her arms out and Harper damn near flew into them. “Hey, bestie. How have you been?”
Harper smashed her little hands on either side of Shannon’s face, then leaned in until their foreheads touched.
“Tell Mommy to have fun!” Shannon said, then put Harper down on the floor. The little girl waved to her mom, then toddled down the aisle holding Shannon’s finger.
“That is still unreal,” Stevie said, her hat and coat still on where she stood just inside the door. “I’m not even sure she likes my husband that much.”
I chuckled, then helped her out of her coat. “Pilates today? Or a nap?”
“I actually napped while Harper was down today. The boys destroyed my living room but everyone was still alive, so we’ll call it a success.”
As I was turning away from the window, I caught sight of a black truck parked across the street at the hardware store. Like he’d been summoned from my thoughts, Beckett walked out of my brother’s store. He looked across the street and our eyes met.