Page 33 of Rulebreaker

The thought of her having a love life, of dating a hockey player–Christ, I knowexactlywhat hockey players think–makes my blood boil.

She needs to be protected.

Cared for.

Looked after.

Ha.

Like she’d accept that.

It was a fight to get her to move here to SoCal, to take the job.

Her accepting a man just strolling into her life and taking care of her and Frankie when she’s fully capable of doing that by herself is almost comical.

Not to mention that I have her back, along with Dash and Royal and Banks.

She doesn’t need a man.

But maybe…she wants one, I think. It has to be lonely going to work, going home to single mom it.

Who does she talk to aside from us and Frankie?

Who is her confidant and the person–no matter how much my blood boils at the thought–that holds her as she drifts off to sleep?

No one.

And that’s a worse thought by far than thinking about her with a hockey player, so even though I could ruin West McGregor in the blink of an eye, if he makes her happy, I’ll resist ruining his life.

“Go home,” I mutter. “Order takeout and watch West in the Vipers game tonight.”

She stills, head tilting to the side. “You mean watch Banks?”

“I said what I said, Thorny.” My phone buzzes, reminding me of the meeting. “Go home, enjoy yourself, and give that kid of yours a big hug from me.”

Her face goes soft and she surprises me, leaning over my desk, brushing her lips over my cheek.

“So scary and intense.” A pat on my cheek. “And so damned sweet inside.”

Before I can argue that nonsense, she’s straightening, snagging her tablet, her bottle of water, and zipping out the door.

“Sweet?” I mutter.

“Sweet,” she calls from the open door. “Just after that call.”

Right on cue, my phone buzzes again and I grind my teeth together as I log on to the meeting, as I immediately know I made a mistake sending Briar home.

It’s about as exciting as paint drying.

I scowl throughout the entire hour–though luckily my camera is off.

And when my phone buzzes again at the end of it, I imagine sending it right through the window behind the chair I imagined launching.

Only…

Then I see the message.

Lily: I have a ticket waiting in Portland if you really want to use that plane of yours.