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All I’d wanted wasa nice calm morning out with my brother.
Instead, I got the most random brunch I’d ever experienced.
Scottie watched Harper poke and prod her less-than-appealing fruit salad as he inhaled pancake after pancake. At least he’d stopped talking about death because that had been hella awkward.
That was Scottie, though. Once he got something in his mind, he fixated on that shit until the next thing came along to steal his attention.
As I tucked into my third pancake, adding an extra dollop of syrup for good measure, part of me felt a little bad for Harper. The fruit salad didn’t look very appetizing, and she couldn’t touch the granola due to cross-contamination. I’d known a gluten-free diet could be tricky, but I hadn’t quite realized how serious it was.
“How are those pancakes, Scottie?” she asked.
She’d barely looked at me. Her restraint was impressive. That or she really didn’t give a shit.
Me on the other hand, I’d barely been able to look away.
Seeing her out on the ice had floored me. When I’d finally picked up my jaw and told my heart rate to calm the fuck down, I noticed everyone else watching her too. The way she zipped around the rink, her long legs skating lap after perfect fucking lap. It had almost short-circuited my brain, especially when she pulled off some fancy ass moves before Scottie started shouting at her.
Harper Dixon surprised me at every fucking turn, and I didn’t like it.
I didn’t like that every time I tried to shut her out of my life; she found a way to creep back in.
Watching her with Scottie had been something but watching her own the ice had made me see her in a whole new light. Which was a real fucking problem because: a) something told me Harper Dixon wasn’t the kind of girl who fooled around without catching feelings, and b) she was the new coach’s daughter.
I needed to get all the dirty thoughts currently running through my mind out because Harper and I could never happen. No matter how much I wanted to see just what else she could do on the ice or in the locker room or in my bed.
Fuck.
How had this happened?
How had I become such a fucking cliché?
“Mason?”
I blinked at her, trying to figure out what she’d asked me.
“Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said, confused as fuck.
“Great.” She flashed me a megawatt smile. One that had my chest tightening. “I think we can do it. What do you say, Scottie?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged, going back to his pancake stack. Sometimes I wondered if the kid had hollow legs the way he devoured food. But only food he could tolerate.
“Okay, what are we talking about?”
“Haha, gotcha.” Harper grinned, jabbing her fork toward me. “I knew you weren’t listening.”
“I’m tired, alright. Cut a guy some slack, blondie. Playing back-to-back games will do that to a guy.”
“Fair point. But it’s a dangerous game agreeing when you don’t know what you’re agreeing to.”
“Okay, you got me.” I held up my hands. Surprised—and fucking unnerved—at how easily the banter flowed between us when she wasn’t annoying the shit out of me.
Maybe I’d been too quick to judge her.
Not that it matters now, asshole.I mentally reeled off the list.Volunteer at Scottie’s group. Coach Dixon’s daughter. Your best friend’s girl’s friend.
She was a walking-talking red flag. One I needed to stay the fuck away from.
