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He leaned forward, his knee grazing hers as he set his empty pot down. Heat fizzed up her leg and she clamped her thighs together, shovelled in more pudding. Kept going until there was none left to distract her. Damn.

‘You should go into advertising…’ His gravel-like tone rasped along her skin as his eyes raked over her. ‘You’re making me want to go grab another.’

She gave an edgy laugh. ‘Ha, as if! Much better to leave that to the Aidens of this world.’

‘Yeah, it does take a certain kind of individual…’

She sobered as she remembered how she’d asked him about it on the street that first day, how she’d been so sure there’d been more to his reasons for not doing the same.

‘I know you said it’s not your scene, but you have the looks, the style, the whole package…’

He huffed. ‘Like hell I do, and I won’t fake it. Aiden’s the man that people should idolise and want to emulate. Not me.’

He pushed himself to standing, his self-deprecation no longer a surprise, but the ache it triggered in her chest. That was new.

‘Can I get you another drink – more wine?’

‘No. Thank you.’ Absolutely not, her inhibitions were already running low, and it was high time she left. But what he’d said… it bothered her. The way he put himself down while bigging his brother up. It had been there all through dinner too, driving the banter.

‘Coffee? We have decaf?’

She wet her lips, her ‘time to go’ spiel sticking in her throat.

‘A water would be great, thanks.’

She watched him go and took a breath. One that still caught the dredges of his aftershave and the air that felt too hot and heavy to go down easy. She wished she’d worn layers so she could at least remove one; even her legs felt clammy in her boots.

She weighed up a quick exit against stripping them off, and unzipped the leather before she could talk herself out of it. Slipping her feet out, she flexed her toes. Better. Much better. Then she dug inside her bag for her phone and messaged her mother:

Astrid

Mum, do I squeak?

‘One water,’ he said, reappearing beside her.

She set her phone down and took the drink, her pulse hitching as his eyes flicked to her legs, their heat rendering her ‘thank you’ inaudible as he twisted the cap off a fresh beer and took a long, deep slug.

Had she driven him to that?

Her brow furrowed. She hoped not. Especially with Aiden’s words ringing in her ears – she’s right, you shouldn’t be drinking.

‘Are you sure you should be having that?’

He shook his head, his smile wry. ‘Don’t you start.’

‘I’m not, I’m just saying…’ She wriggled into the sofa as she chose her next words with care. ‘If I was playing a big game tomorrow, I’m not sure my nerves could take it.’

‘I have it because of my nerves.’ He dropped down beside her, caught her expression. ‘Shocked you, haven’t I?’

‘No. Well, maybe just a little…’

‘Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone. I ain’t proud of it. Fury doesn’t get nervous. Not ever.’

‘Only… you do?’

He gave her a twisted grin. ‘You wouldn’t believe what goes on in this head of mine the night before a game.’

‘Something tells me it might be similar to what I have going on up here every time I stare at a blank page.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘A fear of getting it wrong? Of not being good enough?’

‘ Total imposter syndrome.’

‘And how do you deal with it?’

‘It depends.’ She leaned into the sofa, curling her legs up underneath her.

‘Sometimes all it takes is exercise or an outing with some friends, anything to silence the negativity and shift my focus. But there are times…’ She licked her lips, surprised at what she was about to say but knowing that she wanted to.

That she wasn’t scared to. That he wouldn’t judge her or ridicule her like some men had.

‘There’s always a week every month when it gets harder, virtually impossible. ’

‘A week a month?’ He frowned and then his brows eased as her meaning hit home. ‘You have it too, don’t you? What your mother has? The PMD?’

‘The PMDD, yeah.’

And it was about to hit any day and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. But she’d deal with it, just like she always dealt with it.

‘I did wonder, when you were telling me. I wanted to ask but…’

She gave a small smile, warmth blooming in her chest. ‘You didn’t want to pry? Even though I was doing just that with you.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s your job.’

But this wasn’t. This conversation now. It was something else entirely.

‘Is it really bad?’ he asked.

‘It is what it is. Its own kind of hell. But better to know what it is, than to think you’re going crazy like my mum once did.

Things weren’t so well talked about back then, for years she battled it without knowing it or understanding it.

So I’m actually quite lucky really. And I know to hide away because the pressure of sharing the worst of you with someone only makes the anxiety worse.

And I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to be at the mercy of your hormones one month to the next.’

‘I’ve learned to live with it, and Mum and I do our best to watch out for each other, even across the miles.’

Though if she was honest, Mum had needed her less and less over the past few months. Ever since John had arrived on the scene… When he was gone though, Astrid would be ready and waiting to pick up the pieces and be her rock once more.

‘You’re very close with her?’

‘We have our moments but yeah, she gets me. She’s also very good at reminding me of all I’ve achieved, when I can’t see it. She helps me focus on the positives and push past the negatives so that I still get words on the page.’

His eyes wavered over her face, the compassion in his depths unravelling something deep within her. Something unrecognisable, deeply rooted…

‘It’s what you need to do too,’ she said, needing the sensation within to stop before it grew out of her control. ‘Focus on the positives, big yourself up…’

He gave a tight laugh. ‘I don’t think anyone has ever dared tell Fury to big himself up before.’

‘No, but I’m telling Blake Carter to do it.’ She grew serious, determined. ‘It’s like I told you, you give this front, but underneath it all, you’re just as vulnerable as the rest of us. And you deserve some ego-boosting too. You’ve earned all those accolades you seem to be ignoring.’

He gave a small smile, his eyes falling to the bottle that no longer touched his lips as often.

‘It doesn’t matter where I come in the player rankings, how many assists, or how many goals I score, the doubts are always there, eating away at every achievement.

And you can’t show weakness. Not in this game. The first sign and you’re out.’

‘That’s harsh.’

‘That’s hockey. And the older I get, the worse it is. You have rookies coming in all the time and they play faster, harder, and you compare yourself to them all. And then there’s Aiden, there’s always Aiden.’

‘You know what your problem is?’ she said softly.

He shook his head and she reached out, wrapped her hand around the beer bottle and eased it from his fingers.

‘You gonna tell me I should know better,’ he said, his voice gruff, eyes stormy. ‘With a father like mine…’

‘No. I’m going to tell you to quit being so hard on yourself.

You’ve spent your life in your brother’s shadow.

You’ve spent your life looking up to him, idolising him, letting him take the lead rather than trusting yourself with it.

I don’t think you’ve ever taken the time to truly appreciate what you’ve achieved.

Or questioned what you want going forward. ’

‘I’m where I am because of him.’

‘No, you got here because you were just as skilled, just as strong, and if you were to speak to anyone on your team, like I have, you would see that you are his equal. That you are someone to be admired and adored on his own merit. And if you were to tell yourself this the night before a game, instead of drinking this, you might find those screaming doubts become whispers that eventually die out.’

He gave a choked laugh. ‘Quite the poet, aren’t you?’

‘Not according to my old English teacher.’

‘And how do you suggest I silence that voice in my head when burning calories through exercise is totally ill-advised the night before a game?’

Her eyes drifted over the room, looking for inspiration – both twins had made it clear they lacked hobbies – but if she wasn’t much mistaken there was a games console tucked into the wall.

‘Who’s the player between you and your brother?’

He smirked, his eyes dark and teasing. ‘I thought we’d already covered that conversation in the interview, but if you want to bring up sex as a?—’

She barked out a laugh, killing the idea before Delia’s book could take hold. ‘I meant the games console!’

‘Pity.’

She purposefully ignored him. ‘I told you it was one of my coping strategies way back when. Maybe it could work for you too.’

He glanced at the console. ‘It’s mine.’

‘Play it much?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Favourite game?’

He gave her a funny look. ‘This is where I’m supposed to say something cool, isn’t it?’

‘Says the guy who’s already confessed to watching Titanic by choice…’

He chuckled. ‘I’m pretty retro in my tastes.’

‘ How retro?’

‘Like Street Fighter retro.’

Now she grinned. ‘Favourite character?’

‘Easy. Ryu.’

‘Too obvious.’

‘Alright then, Twinkle Toes, who’s yours… no wait, let me guess. Chun-Li.’

‘Every time.’

‘I’m sure we’re playing into gender stereotypes here.’

‘Nonsense, she’s a kick-ass character and has earned her right at the top. She’ll wipe the floor with Ryu any day of the week so long as these babies are at the helm.’ She fluttered her fingers at him.

‘You’re on.’

He was already rising up.

‘What? You want to play now ?’

He paused, cocked his sexy head her way. ‘I thought you were teaching me other distraction techniques… unless you want to go down the bedroom route because I’m totally up for that too.’

Her phone buzzed with a text and she picked it up.

Mum

Haha! Are you talking about your foodgasm?

My what?

‘Everything okay?’

She looked up to find Blake hovering over her, a games controller in his outstretched hand.

If she’d been blushing before, she was a beacon now. ‘Nope. All good.’

She threw her phone aside and grabbed it off him. ‘Prepare to get annihilated, Ryu.’

Because if she was focusing on the game, she couldn’t be squeaking over him.

Foodgasm? Blakegasm , more like!

* * *

‘You two looked pretty cosy when I got home.’

Aiden leaned back against the kitchen counter while Blake cleared away the last of the dishes.

‘Cosy?’ Not how Blake saw it. With her bare legs tucked beneath her, lip caught between her teeth, and eyes locked on the screen, she had him thinking every non -cosy thought. ‘Hardly. She was whooping my ass on Street Fighter .’

His brother laughed. ‘Never thought I’d see that day.’

‘You and me both. I’m the king of that game.’

‘And now you have your queen.’

Blake’s own laugh cracked. His brother was teasing. He got the joke. But the way it knocked about inside him was anything but funny. He liked her. Liked her a lot. And that was a problem. A great big ‘get the fuck out of town’ problem.

Vulnerable. That’s what she’d said about him.

And that’s how she had him feeling. And the way she’d trusted him with her own vulnerability, too…

hell , it made him feel good. It made him feel worthy.

It made him think he could be the guy that people looked up to.

That he could step out of his brother’s shadow and take control of his life. That he could trust himself with it.

‘You had a good time then?’

‘Yeah.’ He took up his forgotten beer, surprised to find it three quarters full. ‘She’s easy to be around.’

‘When she’s not firing a thousand questions at you, right?’

He smiled as he poured the beer down the sink, but didn’t admit the truth. Because even then, he’d happily take a thousand more to have her stick around.

‘Since when do you throw good beer away?’

He shrugged. ‘I forgot it was there.’ He also knew he didn’t need it. ‘Coach okay?’

‘Coach?’

‘Yeah.’ Blake looked at him. ‘Tonight, when you went to see him?’

‘Oh right, yeah, that. Yeah, all good.’ Aiden pushed away from the counter and turned away. ‘I’m going to hit the sack, big game tomorrow, make sure you get your beauty sleep, bro.’

He watched his brother leave, sensing his quick exit had more to do with cutting the conversation dead than a desperate need to sleep. And if that was the case, why? What had he been up to that he didn’t want Blake to know about? Was he back to protecting his ass again?

Now he wished he hadn’t poured the beer away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

Astrid

Thank you for a great night. When you’re ready for a rematch let me know x

And just like that he was smiling again…

Blake

Any time, anywhere, Twinkle Toes x