Page 16 of Stick Break (Boston Bucks #8)

Rip

I peel my eyes open, and for some reason, I feel… lighter. Happier. Like my soul did yoga in its sleep. Then last night rushes in with the force of Ash Wheeler, our team’s toughest defenseman—after me, of course—and I smile.

Charley.

I turn, expecting to find her curled beside me, but the bed is empty.

Just like last night when I heard a sound, checked the couch, and found that empty too.

But this time, I don’t panic. Because somehow, I knowshe’s here.

My gut says so, and my heart… well, it’s pounding a little too hard with that knowledge.

That’s concerning as hell.

I barely know the woman. We’re both keeping secrets, but still… I like having her here. I like talking to her, cooking with her, sitting by the fire with her, and don’t even get me started on how much I liked what we did in bed last night. What we plan to do for the rest of the week.

Which, I wish was longer.

I shift in bed, and that’s when I feel something soft under my knee. A pillow. I didn’t put it there. At least I don’tthinkI did. I toss off the blankets and stand, stretching out like I normally do, and much my shock, my groin doesn’t throb like a war drum.

Huh.

Maybe the sex cured me.

I snort. Sure, dude. That’s totally how anatomy works.

It’s the yoga. The relaxation. The cold dunks in the ocean.

I tug on a pair of sweats, and head to the kitchen.

That’s when I spot it. A bag of ice in the sink.

Or what’s left of it. A soggy, melted mess.

I didn’t ice myself last night. Which meansthis was all on Charley.

She iced me.

Propped up my leg.

Took care of me while I was snoring without a care in the world.

I blink at the sink, suddenly full of feelings I wasn’t prepared to have. Gratitude. Wonder. Maybe even the tiniest spark of?—

Nope. Not going there.

Honestly, for someone who’s pretending not to know about my injury, she’s doing a damn good job of knowing exactly how to help. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

It’s sweet, Rip.

Sweet.

Right.

I grab a mug, pour some coffee, and open the door to let in the morning. Seagulls cry overhead. Kids laugh in the distance. And then I see her.

Charley.

She’s sitting in the pulled-out lawn chair, sunshine in her hair, a pan, two plates, utensils and food on the makeshift table beside her. She’s barefoot, humming, completely unaware that she’s making my chest feel like it’s too small for my damn heart.

“Good morning,” I say, voice low and still a little rough from sleep.

She turns, and the smile that blooms across her face nearly knocks me on my ass.

My God, she’s beautiful. Not in a trying-too-hard kind of way, but in that effortless, just-woke-up, no-makeup, tank-top-hanging-off-one-shoulder kind of way.

Her short hair is pinned back, her cheeks are a little flushed, and there’s something new about her, something glowing, soft, content.

And I can’t help but hope Ihad something to do with that.

“Good morning,” she echoes, taking a sip of coffee and motioning to the chair beside her. “I was waiting for you.”

“You could’ve woken me,” I say, moving to sit.

She shakes her head, smiling gently. “No way. You were out cold. You needed the sleep. Especially after a night on the sofa.” She tosses me an apologetic look.

“It wasn’t so bad,” I shoot back, even though we both know it’s a lie.

Her eyes skim over my face, slow and searching. When they meet mine again, something tender pulses in my chest. “Did you sleep better last night?” she asks.

I nod. “Can’t remember the last time I slept that good.”

She chuckles. “Same.”

“I lit a fire.” She gestures toward the pit. “I hope that’s okay. Found some eggs and bacon, figured I’d make us breakfast.”

“That’s great, but you didn’t have to do all this.”

Her eyes meet mine again, a flicker of something deeper behind them. “I wanted to.”

She turns back to the pan, putting it on the grate over the fire. The sizzle of bacon fills the air, mingling with the salty breeze and the crackle of wood. I sip my coffee and just… watch her. The way she moves without effort. Like she belongs here. Like we both do.

After a long moment of silence, both of us simply enjoying each other’s company as the early morning sun climbs higher in the sky, she cracks a couple of eggs. “Over easy?”

“Perfect,” I say, and mean it way more than I should.

That one word—perfect—feels like it belongs to this moment. Toher.

“Char… about last night?—”

“Incredible,” she says before I can finish, using the one word I was able to must after pulling her in to my arms. She grins at me over her shoulder. “We’ve already established that,” she adds. “Oh, and we already establish that it’s going to happen again, right.”

I laugh, the sound catching on something warm and wild in my throat. “I don’t think that was a question, but just to confirm, yes. Absolutely. As soon as I’ve got food in my stomach…” I point to some spot down the road. “I’m off to the store.”

“Yes, to buy up all the condoms,” she says, a small grin on her face as she flips the bacon and looks out over the ocean like she’s too thinking about all the ways—positions—were going to get ourselves into. Positions, I wasn’t sure I’d ever find myself in again.

She cracks a few eggs and when she turns to me, sees how I’ve gone serious, she raises a brow.

“What?”

“I just wanted to thank you.” I swallow. “For the pillow. And the ice.”

She softens. “Right. I… uh… hope I didn’t overstep.

My brother’s a physiotherapist, like I mentioned.

I’ve seen injuries like yours before.” She gives me a wink, a little spark of humor lighting her eyes.

“And, you know, Ididput you through a workout last night.” A small shrug and then, “Thought I should make sure you didn’t sustain any more injuries.

Because I definitely want more of that. So really, this was all very much about me. ”

I lean in, inhaling her soft, beachy scent as I take a slow sip of coffee. “I figured as much. You ate my oatmeal. Stole my bed. Honestly, I should’ve known you’re only in this for yourself.”

“It’s good we’re on the same page.” She smirks as she grabs a plate. She slides a few pieces of bacon on it, then adds two perfectly cooked eggs.

“This looks amazing.”

She hands me a fork, then serves herself. “Not bad for a city girl, huh?”

“Nope. Not bad at all.”

She settles into her chair, plate balanced on her lap. I toss a piece of bacon into my mouth and nearly groan—it’s crisped to perfection.

She glances at me, sun catching in her lashes. “I have to say… I think I could get used to beach life.” She glances out over the ocean again, a wistful look on her face. “Cooking over an open fire. You. Me. This.”

My heart trips over that last part— this .

It’s crazy how much I like this too. But is it because of how much I like her, or because in this bubble, we don’t have to think about what our futures might hold?

“This bacon is delicious,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I got it at the market. I’ll get more. Do you…want to come to the market with me today.”

She frowns, sets the bacon on her plate, and my stomach tightens.

Dammit, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.

“I know you need clothes,” I say quickly, my mind going back to the time in Vegas when I had to bring clothes to my buddy Roman, after he saved a runaway bride.

“I could just get them for you. Size eight? I’ve bought clothes for?—”

Her head lifts, a curious look in her eyes. “You buy clothes for women a lot?”

I give her an indignant look. “Who says they’re for women?”

That pulls a big belly laugh from her. “Fair enough.” She gives me a once over. “I must say, though. I can’t imagine anything flattering Big Bear’s physique.”

“Go ahead,” I tease. “Tell me you like what you see.”

She puts a big slice of bacon in her mouth. She points to it, and mumbles something about not being able to talk with her mouth full, but goddammit, it reminds me of last night and the way she used her mouth on me. I shift in my chair, my oversized sweats suddenly a little too small.

I finish the food on my plate. “Since you cooked, I’ll do dishes.”

“Nope. I have to earn my keep,” she responds.

“Babe, you earned all the keep…”

She grins. “Maybe I’m just saying that so it will get you moving.” I arch a brow and she continues. “Store. Condoms.”

“I do love a woman who knows what she wants.” Without thinking, I bend forward and give her a kiss. When I inch back, and note the surprised look on her face, realize how intimate that seemed. “Just giving you something to think about while I’m gone.”

I’m about to walk away, when she stops me. “Don’t you think you should put on a shirt, and maybe change out of those sweats.”

“Right. Shit. I don’t know what I was thinking.

” Actually, I do and it’s damn hard to think when there’s not much blood left in the brain.

I hurry inside and go straight to my room.

I tug on a T-shirt, boxers and a pair of shorts.

When I come from the bedroom, she’s at the sink, humming softly, and it stops me.

I watch, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, and as she moves, oblivious to me watching, my heart pinches tight.

She’s been through so much in the last couple of months.

The competition which had to be brutal, and then for her ex to throw her under the bus.

It’s no wonder she ran away from reality for a while.

But what is next for her? Where does she go at the end of the week?

I really don’t have the answer to those questions, but one thing I do know is that she’s been helping me, and I want to help her too.

Other than giving her a place to stay, I’m not sure what else I can do.

“Be right back,” I say, and she gives me a smile as I head out the door. I walk along the beach path, my hat pulled low as people go by on bicycles and cars. It’s a lazy town, a vacation place and most people keep to themselves, which is nice.

A mile down the road, I reach the shops.

It’s mostly touristy stuff, souvenirs, restaurants, but there is a grocery store where one can find everything they’d need.

I hurry inside and go straight to the pharmacy at back.

I grab two boxes of condoms when I hear someone clear their throat.

My own throat tightens, when I turn and see Mrs. Callahan standing there.

She owns the cottage beside my buddy’s and I met her a couple days ago.

A nice, elderly lady, who suddenly, doesn’t seem like she’s minding her own business.

“Good morning,” I say, as her gaze drops to the boxes in my hand. Shit. Why do I feel like I’m doing something wrong here.

“Ripley,” she says. “You’re out and about early.”

“Early bird gets the worm.” Now why the fuck would I say that. As I mentally curse myself, she purses her lips and it reminds me of my strict grade schoolteacher. That woman scared the Bejesus out of me.

“I can see that.”

“I should get going,” I say, and hold the boxes up in salute. What the fuck is wrong with me today? I’m a grown ass man and can buy condoms if I want. It’s also the responsible thing to do.

“I noticed you have company?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“You know, this is a nice respectable community. My great granddaughter is coming to stay with me for the week. I don’t like for her to be exposed to…well, let’s just say I like to keep her morals and values in tack. No need to expose her to things , too early.”

I gulp. “Things?” What does she think we’re doing over there. Wait, no I don’t want to know.

“No loud parties, no loud noises. No outside of marriage…sexcapades.”

Sexcapades?

What is happening in my life?

“No one sullying up this reputable seaside town.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. My fiancée and I are pretty quiet.”

A huge smile light her face, and the lines around her eyes relax. “Your fiancé, how delightful.”

“Yeah, so no worries. The most noise you’ll hear is her playing guitar.”

“Guitar, you say.” She nods, seemingly please by that too. “My great granddaughter has been asking for lessons.”

“You don’t say.” I inch back. “I should get going. It’s going to be a nice beach day.”

She nods, but follows me to the cash. I pay for my stuff and hurry outside.

As an afterthought I stop into one of the tourist shops and grab a few things.

Once done I head down the path home, but when I glance back, I find Mrs. Callahan walking behind me.

Bags tucked under my arm, I hurry my steps, being careful not to hurt my groin in my great escape from a little old lady.

I casually glance over my shoulder again, and Mrs. Callahan is right there.

How is she so damn fast. I can’t seem to outwalk her. Jesus, we should get her on the team.

When the cottage is in sight, I veer off the path, and cut across the road. When I spot Charley sitting outside, strumming her guitar, and realize Mrs. Callahan is following me home, I hurry to her.

“Hey,” I say and when she glances up at me, I press a soft kiss to her cheek. When Mrs. Callahan clears her throat, I put my mouth near Charley’s ear and whisper, “Pretend we’re engaged, okay.”