KC and Oli watched us carefully.
It was KC who spoke up. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen this side of Ren yet.”
Ripley made a sound in the back of his throat as he crossed his arms again and rocked on his feet. “Yeah, well, we’ve known each other for a long time. When you both get sent to the shitty boarding school we went to, you bond over things you enjoy, like hockey.”
“And violence.” I stepped into Oli’s and KC’s space and curled my arms around their shoulders, dragging them closer. They both leaned into me almost instinctively, and I savored their warmth and the weight of them against my sides. “We’re going out for dinner. Are you coming?”
“We want to know stories about Ren in school so we can give him shit.” Oli’s smug grin lit up his entire face, a confidence blooming in him that I enjoyed seeing. He was extra adorable because the wind had made his cheeks rosy.
“I wish I could, but I have practice early in the morning and Coach is up my ass about being there. We’ve got a fucking curfew like we’re kids.” He eyed a group of girls walking past us, and they giggled as they pointed at him. They hesitated, stopping, and he shook his head sharply in warning. He had a reputation for being the asshole of the NHL for a reason. The girls quickly walked off in the direction of the parking lot. “But if you get Ren, here, to give you my number, we’ll talk. I’ve got a lot of stories.”
“Fuck you,” I grumbled, then laughed.
I wasn’t surprised that he said no. During the season, he was always on the go. If it wasn’t practice and games, it was travelingand spending the small amount of time he had fucking randos. He was a busy guy, but that was what happened when you made millions playing a pro sport.
I released Oli for a second to hold out my fist to Ripley, and he tapped his knuckles against mine. “You should come and hang out in the off-season.”
Ripley frowned. “You’ll still be around this shit hole then?”
I glanced from KC to Oli, taking in their wide, concerned expressions, and smiled. “Yeah. I have a reason to stay.”
“Whipped,” Ripley said, his tone light and teasing. He slapped me on the shoulder and inclined his head toward KC and Oli. “I’ll see what I can do about summer and visiting. Maybe you can all come to LA.”
“I’ve never been to California,” Oli said.
Ripley opened his arms. “That’s done then. My place is big enough and I live on the beach. You can come out and visit me and spend as much time as you want.”
“As long as you don’t flirt with my guys,” I hit back.
He chuckled. “As cute as they are, you know I’m a pussy dude. Never been interested in a cock yet.”
Yet. That was the thing about Ripley. While he claimed he was straight and had never been attracted to a man, he wasn’t willing to say never. He was open-minded.
“Text me.” I gave him a loose hug, slapping his back, and he returned it.
He nodded in goodbye to KC and Oli and strutted toward his black Porsche Taycan. The group of girls from before were still hanging around, and they rushed over to him with their phones at the ready. This time he let them take their photos. I noticed him lean in closer and use his seductive smile, and I laughed because I knew he was going to end up in an orgy.
It was strange to watch him now because, not long ago, that was me. I’d thrived on showing off Shakira and sleeping withdifferent men and women. It was a life I’d loved, along with my job, but now everything had changed. Now I had KC and Oli, and I was happy with them.
“He’s, um, interesting.” KC cocked his head, gaze straying to Ripley with curiosity.
“He’s a pro player.” I shrugged.
“Sports player or woman player?” Oli chuckled.
“Both.” I slid my hands into theirs and tugged gently, leading them in the direction of Shakira. “Come on, let me take you out for dinner. Then, I want to fuck you both.”
I took them to a nice Italian restaurant near my apartment, and we spent the time talking about what was happening in our lives. The conversation was easy and breezy.
After dinner, we went home. While KC and Oli hadn’t officially moved in with me, it was basically a done deal. They had drawers for their clothes and their possessions were scattered across the apartment. Mr. Wiggles had claimed them both as his, but he’d taken a special liking to KC, so it was no surprise that as soon as we walked through the door, Mr. Wiggles was racing toward KC to climb him like a tree until he was securely in KC’s big arms for cuddles.
“Hey, buddy.” KC laid a kiss on Mr. Wiggles’s head.
I laughed as I watched him wrap his arms around the ferret. For someone who called Mr. Wiggles a big rat and hated him not long ago, KC had come a long way.
Oli went over and gave Mr. Wiggles a scratch behind the ears. Mr. Wiggles made a content sound, the trill of excitement echoing around the living room. I slipped off my shoes and jacket, caught between being comfortable enough to watch them love on our pet and hungry to get my boys into the bedroom.
Oli shot a smile over his shoulder. “So, we met one of your good friends.”
