Page 153 of Double Puck

He follows me over the edge with a groan he buries against my neck, holding me so tight I can feel his heartbeat through my back.

For a second, neither of us moves. The curtains drift beneath a breeze, and the ocean keeps doing its thing.

"So," Beck pants, slowly pulling out of me. "Same time next week?"

I laugh, retrieving my pants. "We are never speaking of this."

"Understood. I'm putting it in my gratitude journal, though."

We reassemble ourselves, dressing in the office with the guilt of two people who have committed a workplace felony written all over our faces. I fix my hair in the reflection of Poppy's framed diploma, which feels like an additional crime, while Beck scoops a handful of expensive dark chocolates from the bowl.

He pockets them while unwrapping one and throwing it in his mouth.

"Beck! Don't take all of them!"

"What? She said help ourselves." He tosses me one. "We've earned these. We're in recovery."

"From what?"

"Each other." He grins and kisses my forehead. "Ready to head to Breakers? We're just in time for Happy hour. I'm buying, of course."

I lean into him, letting his arm settle around my shoulders. "Are you sure about that? Didn't you just knock back a million dollar contract?"

He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. "Lucky for you, I've got charm that's absolutely priceless."

"I'm not sure you'll be able to charm Mack," I laugh. "But I'm happy to watch you try."

He flicks another chocolate at me. "Do you think chocolate will help?"

I take the chocolate. "Chocolate always helps."

Beck unlocks the door to the office, pulls it open and—

"Whoa, shit!"

Beck stumbles back as Mason Morrison sprints past the door. He's at full speed, his arms pumping, legs moving in rapid circles like a cartoon.

He's gone in a flash.

I don't even have time to process the blur before a second, much larger shape thunders past the doorway.

"MORRISON!"

Coach Pearson's face is like a thundercloud. Even he's moving faster than a fifty-two-year-old man with a rebuilt knee has any business moving.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN SLEEP WITH MY DAUGHTER AND GET AWAY WITH IT?!"

Beck's chocolate falls out of his mouth and plops on the floor.

"What the—"

I watch his face journey through the entire spectrum of human emotion. Confusion, recognition, horror, and finally, blooming across it like a sunrise, pure unfiltered delight.

Down the corridor, Mason takes the corner at an angle that would impress a race car driver and vanishes. Coach continues to barrel after him, bellowing something about "MY HOUSE" and "SUNDAY DINNERS" and "I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY DAUGHTER."

The hallway eventually falls quiet, and Beck turns to me very slowly.

"Did your brother just—"