Page 46 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers

Freddie holds up his phone. “Mom duty,” he says with a faint smile. “Was uh…helping Mom out while my dad’s out of town. So naturally I get to play errand boy today before practice.”

“Oh,” I say, licking my lips. He slides his phone into his back pocket, his gaze still holding mine, and I realize he’s waiting for me to answer him.

“My one fifteen bailed, so I thought maybe a little trip to the boutique and the café would perk me up. Given…certain circumstances, you know.” I tuck some hair behind my ear. “I mean, I didn’t exactly grab a bag when I ran out of the house…”

Freddie purses his lips. “I see.” He nods to the clothes in my hands. “You uh…just about done or…”

“Oh! Yeah, I was uh…just headed for the register,” I say. I’m not entirely sure I am done, but I also know my time isn’t infinite. I do need to head to the café and get a drink. I’m tired and though my headache has settled, I still feel like I could use a little pick-me-up. Caffeine doesn’t fix everything, but it definitely helps when I feel like shit.

And right now, I definitely feel like shit in more ways than one.

“Let’s go, then,” he says, motioning for me to walk ahead of him. I feel my cheeks pinken as I do, acutely aware of his gaze on me.

“Um…thanks again for letting me crash at your place last night,” I say, if only because I feel like this morning I wasn’t very polite or friendly due to my hangover and surprise wake-up.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Freddie says, his voice warm and smooth like hot fudge. I stop by the underwear counter and carefully grab a few pairs off the top, quickly. I already feel self-conscious as it is, and I don’t needFreddieto see what kind ofunderwear I’m buying. I also grab a couple of the bralettes next to them, because why the hell not. At least I’ll match even if no one is going to be looking at me but my brother’s cat right now.

Though for some reason, the thought of Freddie knowing what kind of underwear and bras I wear makes my thighs warm and my damn pussy twitch.

What the hell is wrong with me today?

I continue toward the register, trying to push the weird thoughts away.

Freddie motions for me to put my things on the counter. “Go ahead,” he says. “Ladies first.”

A strange feeling washes over me. I’m not even surehowto describe it, but I feel compelled to do as he asks, even though it makes no sense.

So I set down my two pairs of jeans, three shirts, two sweaters, and six pairs of underwear along with my sneakers and a cute pair of collapsible flats, and the woman starts to ring them up.

“I also need a pickup for Daniella Sterling,” Freddie says, his voice smooth and bold.

The cashier behind the counter nods as she rings me up. “That’ll be two hundred and twelve dollars and eighty-six cents,” she says, and my eyes practically bulge out of my head. Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have added the shoes.

“You can leave the shoes,” I say, reaching for my wallet, but Freddie stops me.

“Absolutely not. Get the shoes.” I look at him as he holds my gaze sternly. “I got this.”

“What? No, Freddie, that?—”

“Not negotiable, Nora,” he says, that familiar stern tone hitting me and making my entire body stiffen. He looks at the cashier and in that deep, commanding voice says, “Keep the shoes.”

I look up at him, noting the fiery look in his eye. I know just from that one look that he’s serious, and something about that makes my insides twist and my heart skip a beat.

“But—”

Freddie carefully slides out his credit card, his piercing gaze holding mine. “No buts, princess,” he says as he hands the card to the cashier. She takes it as her associate starts to package the clothes into a bag, before setting another bag—closed with ribbon—next to mine.

Of course, his mother’s order. The errand she sent him on…

The cashier gives him back his card and hands me the bags, but before I can grab the bags, Freddie does so, nodding for me to lead the way out of the store. I don’t hesitate to do so, but the whole time I get the feeling he’s once again staring at my ass, even though I can’t prove it.

When we get outside, he hands me my bag, and I take it from him, our fingers brushing one another in the exchange. A jolt of energy sparks through me, lighting up my insides, kicking my pulse up.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, feeling strangely on the spot. Vulnerable. On display.

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, Nora,” he says carefully. “Surely, you know that.”

I do know that. Freddie is if anything a force of nature. On the ice and off of it. Most of his family—including Brett—would say he’s demanding and has high expectations despite his gentlemanly demeanor.