Page 61 of Small Town, Big Storm

Well, aside from the whole slapshot part.

But Ace has a point.

Smitty, who plays for the Grizzlies—and who considered himself the premier matchmaker in the league before finding out about Vi and her copious skills—would jump on this with a vengeance I’ll likely regret.

But I don’t let them know that.

STORM: So are you guys in or out?I need to tell Poppy.

There’s another blip of quiet—long enough for me to realize what I’ve done.

What I’vesaid.

Fuck.

Shep, of course, is the first person to pick it up.

SHEP: Who’s Poppy?Some teenage love interest you’re falling for all over again?

Christ.That’s far too close to the truth.

GRIFFIN: Hallmark Channel here we come.

CLARKE: I vote that he wears a flannel button down and teams up with this Poppy to repair an old inn.

“Fuck my life,” I hiss.

Becausethat’stoo damned close to the truth.

Old house.Old love.The only thing left for them to guess is?—

ACE: And she’s got to be a single mom.Lots of kid shenanigans.Food fights and bedtime stories.

SHEP: And skating lessons and mistletoe kisses.

STORM: It’s summer, remember?And Poppy is just an old friend.

SHEP: a.k.a.code for an old fuck.

STORM: Right.Time for you all to fuck off.I’m texting Smitty.

ACE: Christ.Okay.I’m in.

SHEP: Me too.

ACE:And I’ll tell Vi she can call off the matchmaking powers that be now that you have this POPPY.

I groan.

CLARKE: I’m in too.Because I also need to meet Poppy.

GRIFFIN: Ditto.

“Assholes.Every single one of them,” I mutter even as I send a begrudging thanks and a promise to pass along the other details soon.

My phone keeps buzzing.

I ignore it.