Page 35 of Trick Shot (Bainbridge Hockey #4)

“It’s still pretty new, that’s all I’m saying.” I should feel bad for lying to my family by keeping up the ruse, but is it really lying if I want it to be true? I should also talk to Claire, but the bubble we’re in right now feels good and I’m not ready for it to pop.

“Everything’s new at some point,” Gramma tells me, grabbing the bottle of wine Claire brought. “And she has good taste.”

I’m mixing up some extra salad dressing when Claire steps into the kitchen.

She looks great tonight, but that’s no surprise.

I’ve never seen Claire when she didn’t look beautiful.

Her hair is in a low ponytail and her black leggings show off her toned legs.

She’s wearing those chunky shoes I love and while the BU sweatshirt she’s got on is nice, a hockey one would look better.

My hockey sweatshirt, to be specific. And since everybody thinks we’re dating, I should probably give her one to wear to my games.

Damn. Even in my imagination that’s hotter than I expect it to be.

“Need any help?” she asks. When I shake my head, she smiles. “Your mom is so cool. Seriously. Have you seen all the scrapbooks she’s made for the concerts she’s been to? And do you even know all the people she’s seen live?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “She might’ve mentioned that a time or three hundred.

” I’m bracing myself for another swat from Gramma’s tea towel, but it never comes.

I peek around the corner to see her gathering at the table with the rest of the family, even though the food’s in here. Well-played, Gramma Dottie .

“Your brothers are great,” she says, reaching for the plate of garlic bread. “Leo’s so serious and Henry is a riot. I think he’s my favorite of the Santos boys.”

I roll my eyes as I slip potholders onto my hands and grab the tray of stuffed shells.

The cheese is gooey and bubbly and my stomach growls.

“Henry’s your favorite? I think you’re the first person to say that,” I joke.

And maybe I’m a little defensive because Henry takes after Ma’s side of the family.

He’s tall and lean with lighter hair and hazel eyes.

Leo is a mix of both sides. He’s the shortest of us since Henry hit six-two this winter, but he’s more muscular.

His hair is dark like mine, but not nearly as wild and unruly.

My brothers can both grow respectable beards, but no one would mistake either of them for lumberjacks.

I stand out in a crowd, but judging by the looks Claire’s been giving me, that’s not a bad thing.

The chemistry zinging between us has been ratcheting up lately, maybe because we understand each other a little better. I felt like we had just called a truce and then Ollie’s outburst threw us into a fake relationship and we’re both trying to find our footing.

If I was captivated by Claire Fowler before, watching her interact with my family so easily has me falling even harder.

Van’s at Josie’s tonight, so she’s taking his spot at the table, and she fits right in.

I was a little worried we might overwhelm her because she’s introverted by nature, but once again, Claire Fowler is proving me wrong.

“At least let me help with the dishes,” she says, coming to stand next to me at the sink after our meal is over.

I should say no, because she’s the guest, but I’m a little jealous my family members have hogged all her attention tonight. So, instead of doing the polite thing, I toss her a dish towel. I’m a real bad boy .

“Have you heard anything from Prentiss yet?” I ask. If they’re smart, they’ll scoop Claire up.

“I actually had a call with Garrett earlier today. He’s reading through my pieces and deciding what to show to Leslie, so I’ll have an answer in a few days, hopefully.

But he was really nice, and he gave me some solid advice.

If nothing else, I’ve made some good connections.

Oh, god. That probably sounds bad,” she says, dropping the dish towel and turning to face me.

“I need you to hear me when I say this, Pete. I did not write that article for attention or recognition or even for shock value that might get me some notice and a few connections. I?—”

“I know that, Claire,” I tell her, turning off the water.

“I know that now, and I knew it then. Yeah, reading that article for the first time had me reeling a little. A lot of it was hard to hear because I love that program so much. But even I have to admit you were objective. You brought your facts to the party. And I know we’ve had our issues?—”

“I hated your guts,” she supplies helpfully, winking at me.

“Yeah, that was the issue,” I joke. “Seriously, though. Anyone who took offense to what you wrote probably did so out of defensiveness. In my experience, twenty-year-old guys don’t like being called on their shit. Forty-year-old guys don’t like it, either. That doesn’t mean it isn’t necessary.”

I’m not quite sure how to describe the look on Claire’s face—she’s the writer, after all. It’s part relief, part contentment, part joy. The smile she gives me is the most genuine one I’ve ever seen. It’s completely unguarded, and that’s a whole new Claire Fowler.

“So, my article isn’t a problem for you? Because you seemed pretty pissed a couple weeks ago. I had my meeting with the dean, you know, and they’re making necessary changes to that program to make it fair for everyone.”

I smile and turn back to the sink of dirty dishes.

“I heard. And that’s awesome. I reacted badly.Sometimes the truth is a hard thing to hear.

Plus, I was really fucking worried somebody would retaliate against you.

And, oh look, I was right. I talked to Rosco today and he said they might have found the guys who vandalized your car? ”

“Yeah, they were pledges for the frat that Shane belongs to. And one of them is a criminal justice major who also works for campus security. Or at least he used to.”

Claire places the last dish in the cabinet while I wipe down the counters and the sink. I dry my hands and reach for her, my heart beating like a damn drum. “That’s really good news,” I say, pulling her close when she wraps her hands around my neck.

“Oh, shit.” Her cheeks bloom when her eyes meet mine. “I found that out earlier today. I should have texted you. I guess this is all unnecessary now. I didn’t even need to come over tonight. I wasn’t thinking.”

I press a kiss to her lips, inhaling her scent. “You want to walk out there and tell Gramma you just dumped my sorry ass. Tell Ma you left her baby boy all alone? Maybe run off with Henry because he’s so hilarious?”

She swats my arm playfully. “Ew. He’s fifteen. And no, I’m not telling those ladies any bad news. Maybe I’ll slink out the side door and let you break it to them.”

My hands travel down her back to the base of her spine, causing her to lean forward and—oh, fuck—cradle her body with mine. “Or,” I say, exhaling and leaning my forehead against hers.

“Or?” she prompts, her lips parted.

“Or we could keep doing this, just to be on the safe side. I mean, has all the harassment stopped? ”

“No,” she answers, stiffening slightly. “I still get angry letters and nasty looks, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m just wondering if we should keep doing what we’re doing—for a little while anyway. Don’t you think it would look a little suspicious if we broke up the day after they caught the idiots who keyed your car?”

Claire licks her lips and I hold back a groan. “You make a very good point,” she says, tilting her hips so the most sensitive part of her presses against my…point.

I let my hands roam over her ass and just as I’m about to squeeze the firm round globes, Henry sticks his head in the kitchen.

“Are you guys done cleaning up? Ma wants to—oh, crap. Sorry.” My brother blushes.

With his height, build, and even his inferior facial hair, he could pass for a college student even though he’s a sophomore in high school.

Right now, he looks like the little boy I remember from when we were growing up.

He used to close his eyes during kissing scenes in movies and I think he might revert to old habits.

“What does Ma need?” I ask. Messing with Henry is fun, but if my mom needs me, I’ll be there.

“She wants ice cream from Hollinger’s. She said a sundae sounded really good, so we’re heading over.”

It’s a hell of a drive for ice cream, but Hollinger’s is the best, even though there’s always a long-ass line. Since Ma barely has an appetite these days, I’m not surprised Gramma and the boys are more than happy to make the trip.

“Are they ready?” Leo’s voice calls from the garage.

I’m willing my dick to calm the fuck down when Henry hollers back an answer. “They’re not done yet. You should see the kitchen. It’s a freaking disaster.”

“Seriously? I’m starving,” Leo whines, even though he devoured a meal of pasta and bread less than an hour ago.”

“Then let’s go without them,” Henry answers back. “Because I’m not doing the dishes when we get back. Pete’s a messy cook.”

I look around at the spotless kitchen, bare countertops, and gleaming sink, then back at my youngest brother.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers. “And Claire, you’re way too good for him. We all know it, but we all like you, so you should stick around.”

After that pronouncement, he jumps up and touches the ceiling because he’s a teenage boy and they’re just programmed to do that, and then he heads out to the garage.