Page 24 of Double Puck

Absolutely fucking not.

I don’t think. I just move.

One second I’m glaring daggers at the guy two seats away from my cap, and the next I’m standing directly behind Darcy. Like right behind her, close enough that my chest is brushing her back, cutting off his line of sight.

And anyone else's, for that matter.

Luna raises an eyebrow from behind the counter. “Oh, hi Beck. You ordering? Darcy just—”

“Crowd control,” I say, my voice tighter than I’d like.

“What are you—" Darcy glances back at me, that sharp gaze narrowing. "Why are you standing so close to me?”

I drop my voice. “Because your underwear is currently making a public appearance.”

She jerks upright like I just screamed FIRE, her hand flying to the waistband of her leggings. “What? No, it’s not. Why were you looking at my—oh my God, Beck!”

“It’s hot pink,” I point out. Much to Darcy's disgust. “And it's currently visible from space.”

“It is not.” The color creeping into her cheeks tells a very different story.

The guy by the table glances over again, his gaze lingering as I take a tiny step back to let Darcy see behind me.

I point directly at him, my irritation boiling over. “See? Astronaut.”

The man promptly becomes fascinated by his coffee.

Darcy narrows her eyes. “Did you just threaten a stranger because he was looking at my underwear?”

“I’m a professional athlete. Everything I do has power behind it.”

Luna laughs and taps the screen. “Can I get you two breakfast before Beck challenges someone to a duel?”

“We are not together,” Darcy says far too quickly. "This is purely a work breakfast."

"Yeah." I lean against the counter with my elbow. “We’re in a difficult professional relationship involving betrayal, lust, and possibly my future relocation.”

“There is no lust.” Darcy turns back to Luna. “I'll have the eggs, avocado sourdough and breakfast potatoes, please. And a black coffee.”

Kai fires up the espresso machine, steam hissing through the wand as he locks in the filter. He glances over his shoulder at me, that laid-back, sun-bronzed smile spreading slow.

"Rough morning, brother?"

"You have no idea. Nothing your amazing French toast won't fix though,” I say. “Extra salted caramel butter, bacon, whipped cream and whatever dignity she hasn’t already taken from me.”

Darcy looks at me like this has been the longest morning of her life.

She should try living with me.

Actually, scratch that. Living with me is a blast.

I was the kid who learned to juggle at nine just to get one of my parents to look up from their phones long enough to watch. I made up my first joke at six. Mom laughed so hard she snorted, although Dad missed it entirely because he was already heading for the door.

He was always heading for the door.

Not that it matters now. Turns out none of it was real anyway.

"You can't be serious?" Darcy says. "You already drank, what, an entire gallon of sugar? How are you a professional athlete?"