Chapter 4
Brody
brEEEEP! brEEEEP!
I slam my palm against my phone, fumbling for the stop button. It’s six in the morning but I hardly slept at all. Dreams of Willow’s tasseled tits chased me all night. Or maybe I chased her. I groan.
This is the worst. The woman is sex incarnate and I have to ignore her.
But help her because she’s struggling right now.
I also have to resist her but also be kind to her because she’s my sister’s best friend.
The season is just starting up and I don’t have time to think about adding complications to my life.
Play hockey. That’s it. I’ve got one job.
Especially since I’ve been feeling dry on the ice.
Something has been missing lately. I worked all summer on figuring it out, but nothing has clicked yet.
It’s like I feel tied up. There are no bursts of energy.
No surges. It’s all just tied up and dried up.
I can’t be getting old. I refuse to accept that at twenty-eight my hockey career has reached its peak.
Fuck. What is that amazing smell?
She didn’t. She wouldn’t. She knows during the season I don’t cheat on my diet. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m grumbling the entire way to the kitchen until I get wrapped up in the delicious scent of my weakness. No. Not her.
Banana chocolate chip pancakes.
“Morning,” I mumble and watch her jump out of her skin. The spatula goes flying and clatters to the floor.
“Morning.” She squats down to pick it up and for reasons only God knows, stops there, on all fours, to look up at me with her mouth hanging open.
That’s when I see it. Morning wood.
Fuck.
Welp. Can’t hide it. Ima choose to ignore that one.
“What did you make for breakfast?” Even though I already know.
Back to her feet, she washes the spatula before flipping one of the gooey goodies. She’s got a robe on this morning, but it’s just as sexy as her bralette. I imagine myself untying the little knot holding it closed. “Nothing for you.”
“What? After everything I did for you last night?”
She whips around, spatula pointed out at me. “Excuse me?”
“The shepherd’s pie? C’mon. Let me have some.”
“Um…no. The season has started.” Her back is to me as she focuses on plating a few of the little pancakes.
I can see she made enough for both of us, and I don’t know what comes over me, but I move so that I’m behind her, my arms bracketing her on both sides.
I’m not close enough to touch her though.
“You did this to torture me.” Her spine stiffens and I can see the little hairs on her neck standing on end. My chest pumps with pride.
“Nope. Just hungry.” Abruptly, she backs her ass up onto me, “Excuse me, Monk. Some of us get to eat fun food. Enjoy your egg whites.”
“Wait.” For the seventy eighth time in a day and a half, my hands find her waist and slowly, she raises her chin to lock eyes with me.
I have to think quickly despite the brain fog. “Share with me and I’ll make you your favorite dinner tonight.”
“How do you know—”
“Carbonara with penne noodles.”
Her mouth makes duck lips—fucking adorable—before she nods. “Fine.” She puts the plate of pancakes between us. “Take these.”
And I wish I had a reason to prolong the time with her here in my space, but I don’t, so I let go of her and take the plate instead.
It’s the best damn breakfast I’ve had since the season started a few weeks ago but more than that, I can’t wait for dinner.
I should be asking myself what the fuck I’m doing, but I don’t. It’s not like it’s a date. I’m just making her favorite dinner for the two of us. To share. Tonight. At night. Alone. I can’t help but wonder what she’ll wear for this meal.