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‘What do you think about inviting her to Sunday dinner?’

Blake yanked out his earbuds and stared at his brother like he’d just suggested they take up figure skating. ‘What?’

‘Astrid?’

‘I know who you meant, I just?—’

He lowered his voice as he registered the late hour and his teammates snoozing up and down the plane.

Their flight out of LA had been delayed and they were all cranky as fuck.

Not least because they’d lost in sudden death to the Kings the night before and they were all desperate to get home.

Hence why he was plugged in, music blaring, eager to block out the world and everyone in it.

And now his brother was throwing him this curve ball.

‘Have you been sniffin’ the Zamboni fumes?’

‘Why?’

‘Because whenever we manage to sort a Sunday roast, Mom is with us. And last I checked we weren’t letting her anywhere near Mom. Or are you saying we cook up a roast just for her? That’s some special kind of ass-licking, bro.’

‘No, no ass-licking. As for Mom meeting her, that’s how I felt before we knew her, but I don’t know, she seems nice. I think Mom would like her. And I think it will look good for you – sorry, us – if she saw us in our natural environment.’

Blake twisted in his seat so he could give his bro the full weight of his stare. ‘Are you trying to sound like David Attenborough?’

His brother gave a low laugh. ‘Look, she’s going to be hanging out with us at the rink…’

‘Our home away from home.’

‘But I figure it makes sense for her to see us in our actual home, doing normal stuff.’

‘Like feeding Mom a roast?’

‘Well let’s face it, Mom does the feeding, we just provide the setting.’

‘But you know Mom prefers her kitchen.’

‘Good point. So how about dinner at ours and Sunday roast at Mom’s? That way she gets to witness the lot.’

‘Now you want to do two dinners?’

‘Do you have any better ideas?’

‘One family dinner. And let’s take her out for it.’

‘That’s hardly showing her our “softer” side. And you know the GM is hot on her being our shadow. This will keep him sweet too. Why are you so averse to it anyway? I thought you liked her.’

‘I do, but when have we ever introduced Mom to a girl?’

‘She’s not a girl, she’s a journalist writing about us.’

‘And you think Mom, I’m-desperate-for-a-wedding-and-grandbabies , is going to see the difference?’

Aiden shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but we should do it. Two dinners. I’ll message her.’

‘Who?’

‘Astrid.’

‘Don’t you think you should check with Mom first?’

‘Like she’s gonna say no.’

He was already unlocking his phone and Blake covered it with his hand.

‘You really want to wake her up with a dinner invite?’

He checked his watch. ‘You’re right, it’ll be two in the morning for her. I’ll do it first thing.’

Blake shook his head. ‘Where’s the fire?’

‘No fire. But it’ll be something to look forward to.’

Oh. My. God . His brother had lost his mind. Either that or… he actually did like her. Had feelings for her, liked her.

And that green thing inside him twisted and grew – all because of her.

Pucking Twinkle Toes.

* * *

Astrid pulled the pot of freshly brewed coffee out of her uncle’s machine and sloshed it into her pint-size mug as Blake’s interview played through her phone…

‘What are your hobbies or interests outside of hockey?’

‘Do women count?’

‘Funny.’

‘I’m not being funny.’

‘So you admit to being something of a player then?’

‘I admit nothing.’

‘You’re maddening, you know that, right?’

‘Always.’

Astrid felt the ridiculous grin on her lips, the rampant butterflies in her stomach, and promptly smothered both. He’s not amusing. He’s not fun. He’s a nightmare!

A woman’s worst nightmare. Much like his brother.

But at least Blake was honest about it. Kind of. Aiden on the other hand had promised Sienna the world and lied through his teeth.

Only you’re finding him quite likeable too…

‘Traitor,’ she muttered, pausing the recording and adding milk and two sugars to her coffee. She stirred it vigorously as she took it to the table before the window where her work was all spread out.

She hadn’t seen the twins in two days, but she’d lived and breathed them – focusing on the article because that was far easier than focusing on the confusing mess of her feelings towards them.

Today, she had interviews lined up at the arena with Coach, Stella, and the equipment manager Ezra. She had other people to contact and book in, too.

She checked her list of potential sources, their mother and father right up top.

She understood the twins’ need to protect their mother and she’d respect that.

But their father… if ever there was a villain to the piece.

She had to try and speak to him. Though the man was proving difficult to trace.

Sissi had said he’d not been seen in Ashbury Falls for months now, the house they’d lived in standing very much empty. Empty but well-tended to by an agency.

Astrid had done some digging and discovered that Aiden had bought it last year.

Which was odd in itself. Why buy a house you had no intention of returning to?

As far as she could tell he hadn’t been back since taking ownership.

And she doubted Blake had any intention of doing so.

Their mother had to be glad to see the back of it, too.

So why buy something that held so much misery for them all?

Her gaze drifted to the early morning frost hovering over Central Park. It looked as cold as she now felt.

Had Aiden bought it for their father?

Their old man was well known for his financial troubles. Would Aiden have bailed him out? Hated the man while gifting him a roof over his head? And if so, didn’t that make the Ice King ever more likeable?

Bugger . She snatched up her mug. Every step forward in her article seemed to be one step back on the karma path…

Why couldn’t he be a Grade A jerk? The 2D guy with the Hollywood smile splashed all over O’Hare airport, arrogant and unfeeling, self-absorbed and selfish.

Perhaps because he’d never been that man at all.

And where did that leave her and the grand karma plan?

If she could just get him onto the subject of Sissi, unpick that thread to his tale and get her friend some kind of closure…

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text and she glanced at the screen.

Mum

Good morning, darling. Hope you have a glorious day! All is sunny this side of the pond xoxo

She smiled and was about to pick it up when another message dropped in…

Aiden

How are you fixed on Tuesday night?

She snatched up the phone. Blinked. And blinked again.

Tuesday night? She checked the Titans game schedule – clear.

Was he… was he asking her on a date? After the disaster of the last one?

Whatever the case, it’s an opportunity to dig for Sissi and the article; get on it!

Astrid

Good morning to you too! Why do you ask?

Aiden

Sorry, morning! Just in diary mode and getting organised. Blake and I would like to invite you to ours for dinner.

Blake and I… Her mouth fell open. Her, Aiden, and Blake. In their pad. Just the three of them…

Aiden

We don’t bite.

Heat rushed through her core as his text conjured up an image worthy of Delia’s book. Holy mother of… Down, nips!

She blew out a breath and typed: I’m free and that sounds…

How did it sound? Lovely. Productive. Cosy. Intimate. No. No. No. Definitely no.

Aiden

I promise.

Sweet Jesus, the man was persistent.

Astrid

I’m free and that sounds great.

Aiden

Good. I’ll send you the address.

Astrid

No need. I already have it.

Aiden

Of course you do

A wink? What was that about? A tease? A cheeky slap at the journalist in her? A flirt? And if it was a flirt, how would Blake feel about it after their near-miss kiss?

Astrid

What can I bring?

Aiden

Just you. Any allergies?

Only to men who can’t treat a woman right…

Astrid

No, I’m as easy they come.

There. Delicately flirtatious. A bit of easy banter. And much easier to manage when the other brother wasn’t on the scene. Though he would be come Tuesday when she got to see inside their home. OMG .

Aiden

…

The typing icon appeared and disappeared. She frowned, drumming her nails on her laptop. Could the guy not take a flirtatious prompt? Had she scared him off?

No way. Snatching up her phone, she went to type something else, but in buzzed:

Aiden

Blake will be pleased.

She wound her neck in. Okaaaay, not quite the response she was expecting…

Astrid

Why? Is he cooking?

Aiden

Haha! No chance! See you Tuesday if not before!

Astrid

Great

And it was great. The twins were doing as they’d promised, welcoming her into their life, facilitating the story she needed to write and unwittingly giving her the opportunity to dig deeper with Aiden. Great. Great. Great.

Buoying herself up, she opened the Just Desserts WhatsApp group and the message from Sissi that she had left hanging late last night because she hadn’t known what to say…

Just Desserts WhatsApp Group. 22.03 EST.

Sissi

What’s next in Operation Heartbreak?

Astrid

I’ve been invited into the lion’s den… Aiden’s cooking dinner!

Paige

Sissi

Be careful, Aiden can be pretty charming when he wants to be.

No shit, Sherlock.

Astrid

Well, technically he’s cooking for Blake and me, but it beats a meet up at the rink.

Paige

Blake is going to be there?!

Hmm, yup. How to manage that one? As far as the girls knew, it was karma-as-usual. As for herself, she’d need to make doubly sure she kept Blake at arm’s length. There could be no getting carried away on hormones, pheromones, whatevermones…

Astrid

I’m sure there will be opportunities to get up close and personal with the right twin…

Paige

So long as you remember which one that is!

Eek!

Astrid

Have you been speaking to Bella?

Paige

She may have mentioned you have something of a bad boy addiction…

Astrid winced. Affliction more like. And Bella wasn’t wrong.

Astrid

I have it all under control

Now she just had to make it so…

* * *

‘Dinner Tuesday, sorted.’

Aiden placed his phone down on the breakfast bar and stretched his arms above his head, his naked torso flexing.

‘Jesus, put it away, bro. Some of us are trying to eat their breakfast…’

‘You first.’

Blake glanced down at his semi-naked self and shrugged. He wasn’t the one flexing it. He also wasn’t the one looking pretty smug with himself.

Did his brother really have a thing for her?

They’d never gone head-to-head over a woman before, and he wasn’t thrilled about doing so now.

Especially when that girl held the public reformation of his character in her dainty and distracting hands.

Hands that had given him a surprising hit of comfort when he’d dredged up his past for her to dissect.

‘What’s got you in a mood now?’

Blake chewed over his cereal before answering, half expecting it to get stuck in his throat.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea? Bringing her here.’ He looked around their very masculine, very high-end pad. ‘It’s hardly going to make people sympathise with us.’

‘We’re not looking for sympathy, we’re looking to inspire kids like us to reach for better things… it’s why we got these, remember?’

He threw a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the tattooed Latin script they shared at the base of their spine: Ad meliora . Towards better things. A simple phrase that had meant as much at eighteen as it did now.

‘We can also show her we’re not a pair of hockey neanderthals incapable of keeping their house straight. I mean, have you seen how half the team live?’

He grunted. ‘But we never bring women back here.’

‘And we’re not bringing one back now.’

Blake cocked a brow.

‘Like I said about introducing her to Mom, this is different. This is business. You know that as well as I do… don’t you?’

Was that his brother’s way of asking if he’d crossed the line in that exec suite? He hadn’t quizzed him on it since. He’d asked how it had gone and left it at that. Was it possible his brother was wholly focused on the article rather than the woman writing it…?

And all his jealously was misplaced?

And that it was all about him being a charity case? The little brother in need of rescuing as ever.

‘Whatever you say, bro. It’s my ass that needs saving, right?’ He spooned up more cereal, though he was swiftly losing his appetite. ‘And what about Sunday lunch at Mom’s?’

‘I figured it was best inviting her in person on Tuesday, that way we can lay down some ground rules and see how she reacts to having her journalistic strings cut. Make a call on it then.’

He nodded as he got to his feet and shoved his bowl aside. There was only one way to rid himself of the ants now having a party in his gut.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To the gym.’

‘What about your bowl?’

Blake paused.

‘Not neanderthals, remember?’

His mouth hitched up. ‘Speak for yourself…’