Page 68 of The Big Puck

She could get a bundle of money if she sold the historical home where she’s lived ever since I can remember, but I understand why she won’t.

After I park the last of the boxes in the front hall because there’s no more space in her room, I head to the kitchen, drawn by the aroma—and the sound of Lainey’s addictive laugh. When I step inside, I almost don’t recognize the space. They’ve redecorated it with all my Aunt’s things, from curtains to chair pads and plaques and a tablecloth all in vintage Victorian kitchen chic—or so it looks.

“Just in time for lunch. You’ll stay and eat before you go?” Lainey invites me, and even with the rejection on the tip of my tongue, I can’t say no. I don’t say no. Awareness that her continued presence, combined with my Aunt’s, won’t make it easier for me to behave, and it hits me in the solar plexus, making it impossible for me to speak. I take a few deep breaths, my failing attempt to gain control of myself.

The two women are alike in more ways than I realized. Worst of all, they’re on the same team, and I’m their opposition.

“Sit down, dear. We’ve set a place for you. Lainey has whipped up a chicken pot pie without the peas in consideration of your dislike. Isn’t she just precious, the way she’s unfailingly considerate?”

Krissy, my only ally, sits trapped between them in her high chair, unaware of the line drawn, blissfully unaware in her baby world that my very soul is at stake in this battle. I can’t envision a way to survive the onslaught. Worse, I can’t envision a way to survive if I succumb. Or a way for Lainey to stay once she discovers her great mistake in wanting me.

Maintaining a cool professional demeanor is harder now than before I kissed her, and I looked forward to having my aunt around to chaperone and bolster my resistance. Still, I can see from the unmistakable twinkle in Aunt Hildie’s less than innocent eyes that I was seriously mistaken. Shit.

Life at home is going to be hell.

Until the end of the season and Lainey moves out. Then…I’ll wish my life was mere hell.

I eat her pot pie, and I like it. I wish I didn’t. “It’s good.” I could have kept that to myself. Should have since I don’t have my sunglasses to shield me from her absurdly pleased smile.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Spencer,” Aunt Hildie says. “You know Lainey is an excellent cook.”

I grunt and fill my mouth with food. I steal a look at Krissy and wish I could talk to her or at least hold her on my lap and play with her.

“Do you want to hold Krissy?” Lainey asks. “She’s finished eating her banana pieces. I’ll clean her up, and you can hold her.”

I want to shout at Lainey and ask how she read my mind. That’s supposed to be my specialty—reading people like open books. Everyone but Lainey. She makes me too uptight. The only time I read her mind was the time I kissed her. I’m better off staying out of her head.

Problem is, how do I get her out of my head?

She hands me Krissy, and I put down my fork, feeling the corners of my mouth twitching up. Krissy looks up at me, and her fresh pink baby face reminds me of my brother. Poor Neil is missing out on you, baby. I caress her cheek and kiss the top of her head, and she gurgles and talks in her own language.

“Look this way, Spence.” Lainey flashes her phone as I look up. She shrieks with giddy pleasure. “I got it—I got a picture of you smiling, and there’s not a hockey puck in sight. Look at this, Aunt Hildie.”

“That’s perfect. You captured him beautifully, Lainey, my dear girl.” My aunt squeezes Lainey’s cheek in the same way she’s always squeezed mine, ever since I can remember from when I was a toddler, barely able to remember anything else.

She shows me the photo, and I concentrate to keep from smiling, but it doesn’t work. The picture of me and Krissy is the best one I’ve ever seen with me in it. I have a shadow of a smile lit by surprise, my arm around my baby—Neil’s legacy. And I look happy.

“Nice,” I say. My body wants to take her in my arms and—who the hell knows what I’d do with her. Everything. Anything.

Pushing my chair back, I stand. “I need to go.” I hand Krissy to Lainey, and she looks at me, expectant and beautiful, her blue eyes luminous and generous and soul-stealing. I clear my throat. “Thank you. For lunch.”

She reaches out and squeezes my hand. My brain short circuits. Fuck. I pull it away. No touching, I tell her with my eyes. You’re too goddamn tempting.

* * *

My office door is open when Rafe shows up, sitting and putting his feet up on my desk as usual. His hair is still wet from his shower.

“Make yourself at home.”

He grins. “This place is starting to feel like my second home.”

“Glad to hear it. How about the rest of the guys?” It’s a serious question, and I start all our meetings asking a version of it, well aware that my players wouldn’t necessarily share problems with their coach. And despite my well-tuned powers of observation and mind reading, I know I can’t keep tabs on all of them by myself.

“Nothing noteworthy. We’re holding our own, but it’s early in the season. If we keep winning, we’re going to be best friends forever and crown you prince. But we won’t really know how well the team’s gelling until we hit a rough streak.”

I nod. “Truth.”

He pauses for a beat, then asks, “How about you?”