Page 29 of Stick Break (Boston Bucks #8)

Rip

T he afternoon sun pours through the open kitchen window, casting golden slats across the worn wood floors and catching in the soap bubbles I swirl lazily with a dishcloth. Charley made us chicken salad for lunch, so it’s my turn to clean up.

Outside, the world hums. Kids laughing in the distance, a lawn mower droning somewhere, the kind of sleepy summer background noise that makes you want to lie in bed and nap with your limbs tangled around someone you never expected to find sleeping in your bed.

I reach for a mug too quickly. A few weeks ago, that rookie mistake would have set off fireworks of pain. But now, with Charley’s militant ‘RICE’ (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) it’s manageable. Hell, under her care I have no doubt I’ll be all ready for camp next month.

The sound of her bare feet on the hardwood makes the back of my neck heat.

She’s sneaky like that, appearing when I least expect it, usually when I’ve just regained control of my very male urges.

She leans in beside me to slide a plate into the sink, her body brushing mine.

If she gets one inch closer, I’m going to lose all sense of decency and bend her over this counter in broad daylight—kids playing, sun shining, my soul leaving my body kind of sex.

I groan and turn to her and she has a mischievous little grin on her face. She loves toying with me, and dammit, I love it too.

“You’ve got a little...” Her finger grazes the corner of my mouth, wiping away—what? Mayo? Lust? Dignity? Doesn’t matter. Her touch lingers, teasing, soft. Sweet torture.

I grab her waist, tug her in, and kiss the living hell out of her. A little gasp catches in her throat as I slide my tongue in and tangle my hands in her soft hair. She wraps her arms around me, giving in to my touches…my kisses.

Honest to God, everything about her, this moment, is perfect. Easy. Right.

Until…

The screen door creaks open.

We both stiffen. Well, that’s not entirely true. I was already stiff. Knowing this, Charley positions herself in front of me, but no one is fooling ol’ Betsy.

“I brought muffins!” Betsy announces, crashing through the door like a hurricane in orthopedic sneakers. She stops when she sees us. Her gaze moves over our faces which are no doubt flushed. “Again?” she asks, eyebrows climbing so high they’re practically on her crown. “Lord, have mercy.”

I open my mouth to say God’ knows what, but she cuts me off with a judgemental finger. “I’ll be glad when you make my sweet Charley an honest woman.”

Honest woman. What century are we in?

But I simply nod and play along.

“Soon enough,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to Charley’s temple, playing her adoring fiancé. I sign. “I wish we didn’t have to wait until next summer. But there’s so much planning to do.”

Charley slides one hand behind her back and gives my side a sneaky pinch as we both bite back laughter. I kind of like having secrets with her. But we both have other secrets too, that’s we’re not sharing.

“Well, it’s a good thing I brought all these muffins,” Betsy declares, marching past us like a woman with purpose and baked goods. “You two need your strength. You burned a lot of calories last night.”

Oh no she didn’t.

I sputter. “We uh…didn’t?—”

She waves off my weak defense like she’s batting away a mosquito. “Oh, come on, Ripley. These cabin walls aren’t that thick.”

Charley makes a strangled sound, and folds against me like she wants the floor to open up and swallow us whole. “Oh God ,” she groans.

“Yes, I heard that too.” Betsy says, before grabbing Charley’s hand. “Where’s your ring?” she demands, suspiciously. “Did you lose it?”

Charley blinks like a deer caught mid-lie, but recovers fast. She pastes on a sweet smile.

“Oh. I… I never brought it. It’s back home.

Getting sized.” She gazes dreamily into the distance, like she’s smack dab in the middle of a fairy tale.

“You should see it though. It’s lab grown, naturally.

I’m not into mined diamonds,” she says with a frown.

But then she casts me a quick smile. “It’s not big or flashy.

I never wanted or needed that. But it’s everything. ”

And damn. She’s definitely spinning a fairy tale here, but her words punch me square in the chest. Not because she’s convincing Betsy, but because her words are real and tell me so much about her.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed,” Betsy huffs, scandalized. “We can’t have people in the community thinking you two are just…” She lowers her voice, her words for our ears only. “Well, we all know what you’re doing. But wetolerateit because you’re engaged.”

She sets the muffins down, her brow furrowed like she’s deep in thought. Then she brightens and raises a finger. “I’ll be right back.”

She spins on her heel like a woman on a mission and charges out the front door. Charley turns to me, and I pull her me, eyebrows raised. “Should we be worried?”

She mock shivers. “Very. What if she comes back with a… ring?”

I scrub a hand over my face, grim. “Yeah, I’m thinking that’s exactly what she’s up to.”

“Have we let this go too far?” Charley asks quietly.

“Probably,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “But it’s only for a little while longer. And if it makes her happy…” I tilt my head toward the door Betsy just stormed out of, “…we might as well go along with it.”

Charlie grins and nudges me. “You like her.”

I laugh. “Of course I like her. She likes you, and I like anyone who likes you.”

Charley squints at me “What about... other people, though?” she asks. “What if they see it?”

“She already told everyone we were engaged,” I remind her.

“No one’s going to think or care about us when we leave here.

” At least, I hope not. I did threaten Jensen, so…

hopefully he took the hint. “We’ll explain things to Paisley and Gunther.

Pretend we broke up.” I snort out a laugh.

“Not pretend. We can’t pretend a breakup if we were never engaged, but you know what I mean. ”

She nods slowly. “Yeah, I do.” But there’s something behind it. Something careful and guarded. Worried. Is she worried about her asshole ex. Not wanting him to think she’s with someone else because maybe down the road….

“But really,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, “Who just hasa ring lying around? It has to be something else.”

“Let’s just hope it’s not a judge,” she mutters. “Or a licensed clergy.” She pokes my chest. “Can you imagineif she knew you were ordained? We’d be married by tonight. Probably right here in the kitchen. With muffins as witnesses.”

I laugh. “Fortunately, you can’t legally marry yourself.”

She fans her face dramatically. “Whew. Dodged that shotgun wedding.”

“A shotgun wedding is when the bride is pregnant,” I say.

She laughs. “Right. That’s not going to happen.”

But thinking about weddings, and babies, reminds me I’m not at all where I thought I’d be today, and maybe…

maybe that’s a good thing. I think about what life will look like when I return home.

Will she be going with me? I’d asked impulsively.

I’m not even sure I meant to. The words just slipped out.

Like my heart hit send before my brain could run it through spell check.

But oddly…I don’t regret it. She never answered me.

But she didn’t run away screaming either.

If she does come, we’ll need new rules. She mentioned me dating again, like that was even remotely on the table.

The truth is, going back to the usual hookups, hockey groupies, meaningless nights make my stomach turn. The bunnies don’t appeal to me anymore. I’ve met someone who cares about me, the work she’s been doing to heal my injury is proof of that. She doesn’t want anything more from me. Not like…

My phone rings.

Jesus.

Lyra.

Of course.

It’s like shesensed I was thinking about her. Which I was, but not in the usual way.

Charley stiffens at the sound. I see the way her shoulders rise just slightly, the muscle in her jaw tightening.

“She seems to be calling more lately,” she says lightly, but I hear the undertone.

Feel the shift in the air, the cooling. “Does she… want to be ‘on’ again?” She says it like it’s a joke.

Like she doesn’t care. But her body language betrays her.

She doesn’t want me going back to Lyra. Probably because of how Lyra treated me.

But could there be other reasons?

Personal ones?

Like…maybe Charley doesn’t just hate the idea of me being with my ex. Maybe she just hates the idea of me being withanyone else. I run a hand through my hair and let out a sigh.

“Yeah. She’s been calling.”

I drop down into the chair and toss my phone onto the table like it just burned me. Charley doesn’t say anything. Just watches me. Watches the phone. And we both still for a moment, the silence louder than any ringtone.

“Are you going to respond?” Charley asks softly, sitting across from me with that careful expression that says she’s trying not to judge.

Instead of answering, I reach for her, guiding her onto my lap. She settles, straddles me, everything about her here with me right, as her hands slide into my hair, brushing it back, like she’s trying to soothe the chaos inside me.

“I can leave,” she offers. “Give you privacy.”

Like hell.

I glance at my phone, still lighting up with Lyra’s name—a neon sign for trouble.

“She was asking if she could come here,” I admit, and just like that, I feel her entire body stiffen. I rush to explain. “I told her I was headed back to the city, so now she’s just asking when.”

Charley nods. “She wants to see you.”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice flat. “She must need something.” That’s how it’s always been with Lyra. She comes around when she needs something—attention…a story.

Charley slowly climbs off my lap, and the air cools instantly, like she took all the warmth with her. A shiver rips through me that has nothing to do with temperature.