Bottles & Blades (Eagles Hockey: Oak Ridge Vineyards #1)

Chapter 41

Forty-One

Tiff

I never would have thought a man scowling at me could be cute.

But it is.

Mostly because I want to kiss Jean-Michel until he smiles at me.

Chrissy’s here, though, along with Rome and King and Rory and a gaggle of rescue kittens that “need socialization.”

Chrissy’s words.

But I’m thinking it’s mostly an excuse to see her dad—or maybe torture him.

Hence the scowling.

Jean-Mi called on his way home from the office, ordering me (yup, more orders) to get naked and meet him in the bedroom because he had plans for me and my naked body…

Which was when I had to tell him about the kittens.

And about Chrissy and Rory and company.

Hence hence …scowling.

Even as he lounges on the floor with a mob of tiny fluff balls using his body as a climbing pole.

“How are you guys doing?” Chrissy asks, stopping beside me and bumping my shoulder with hers.

I feel my face go soft.

“I guess it’s going well,” she says knowingly, her mouth curving.

“It’s been a dream. He’s kind and sweet and…more than anything I could have ever hoped for,” I whisper then remember who I’m talking to. I quickly add, “I know he’s your dad and this is probably weird?—”

She takes my hand. “I asked.” A beat. “And it’s not weird. He’s happy.”

Something in her voice has me looking up, holding her gaze, and my heart squeezes when I see her eyes go damp.

“He deserves to be happy,” she whispers.

“Yes,” I whisper back.

“And you do too.”

My throat works as I rasp out. “Yes.”

She sniffs, fans her face, then pulls it together. “Damn pregnancy hormones.”

“What do I get to blame this”—I point to my face—“on?”

“Hormones by osmosis.” She grins when I laugh. “I’m glad he has you, and especially glad that Rome got the intel from Stefan and Brit”—her man had played on the Gold before he played for Jean-Michel’s Eagles—“and they say you’re good people.”

“They’re the ones who are good,” I say. “ Great, really. Stefan was there for me at a really tough time, and they looked out for me when they didn’t have to. So, yeah, they’re great.” I bump her shoulder this time. “Kind of like other people I know,” I say, nodding around the room.

“The feeling is mutual,” she says. “Mostly because he’s my dad and you make him happy and you stood by his side when my mom was pulling her shit a few weeks ago, and you didn’t hesitate when Rory and I kidnapped you?—”

Huh.

I just realized that seems to be a Dubois trait.

Shaking myself, I turn to her, “Chrissy, I?—”

She’s still talking. “But mostly because my dad likes you and I’m excited to spend more time with you because I like you too.”

“Dammit,” I whisper. “We just got it under control.” I sniff. “Don’t make me cry.”

“Then stop being so damned wonderful.”

Only, it’s not Chrissy speaking.

She smiles in agreement, though. “Exactly, Dad,” she murmurs, lifting on tiptoe and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Now I’m going to gather up the crew and head out.”

“You don’t have to go,” I blurt.

I like her. I like Rory and Rome and King.

Do I want to be alone so I can experience all of Jean-Mi’s naked plans?

Yes.

But I don’t want her to feel like she has to rush off.

“I think we do.” Her eyes flick down to her father’s arm, an arm that’s currently wrapped around my middle then up to where his chest is pressed to my back. “Plus, I’ll see you at the game tomorrow, right?”

The Eagles’ final home game of the regular season.

A game that’s against the Gold.

Yeah, I’m not missing that for the world.

“I have class and then Roxie for a couple of hours,” I say. “But after I get her settled with Stefan, I’ll come over to your dad’s box.”

“Awesome,” she says. “Then we can drool over the players below, eat all the bad snacks, and drive my dad crazy.”

“I…um…”

His arm tightens, his lips press to my temple. “Tiff is too sweet to drive me crazy.”

I glare up at him.

Chrissy grins. “Well, we’ll fix that.”

“No, you won’t.”

Rory comes up and laces her arm through Chrissy’s, winking at me. “Yes, we will,” she stage whispers.

Jean-Mi sighs.

And I decide to move this along, slipping from his hold, dropping to my knees by the carrier and helping Rome load up the kittens.

He grins at me.

“Anxious to get us out of here?” he teases.

I grin back. “When the three of them get going…”

“They don’t stop,” he finishes.

“Exactly.”

We share another grin and then go back to packing up the kittens.

Luckily, they’ve been entertained well for the last few hours and are sleepy, so they don’t give us any trouble as we tuck them carefully into the carrier, snuggle them up with blankets, and then close the door. Rome hefts it carefully then goes and snags his woman’s hand. “Time to go, kitten.”

My heart squeezes when she leans into him, glancing up, her face filled with love.

His mouth brushes over hers, and his free hand gently tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

He’s adorable.

They’re adorable together.

King similarly claims Rory, and my heart does that squeezing thing all over again when he touches her cheek and tucks her close to his big frame.

Then they’re walking to the door, and we’re exchanging goodbyes, watching as they back out of the driveway and disappear into the night.

“Jean-Mi?” I ask as he shuts the door, takes my hand, and starts us toward the stairs.

He sighs. “Why do I feel like I’m not going to like what you’re going to ask me next?”

A sliver of guilt slides through me.

Wrong time.

The last few weeks have been far too busy.

I can hatch my plan another day.

“Never mind,” I murmur, nibbling at the inside of my cheek. “It’s not important. Let’s go to bed, honey. It’s been a long day.” I take his hand, start for the stairs again.

A tug draws me to a halt. Another turns me to face him. “Tell me.”

“More orders?”

He cups my jaw, tilts my face up. “ Tell me.”

I cave because I can’t do anything but that when he’s looking at me with those intense blue eyes, when he’s ordering me around all gruff and gentle. It has any resistance melting away like a popsicle on a hot day. “I was just wondering…”

“Buttercup,” he warns when I don’t finish.

“Can we go to Oak Ridge?” I blurt.

His brows drag together. “It’s nighttime, baby.”

“I know,” I say, stepping closer, resting my hand on his chest. “But that doesn’t mean the grove has gone anywhere, does it?”

“No,” he says slowly, confusion still shadowing his eyes, “it doesn’t.”

I smile at him, lift on tiptoe to whisper in his ear,

“Plus, I put a blanket in the trunk.”