Page 83 of Nine Month Contract
His voice is cut off as Trista swings back her cowboy boot and kicks him in the shin.
“Ouch!” he howls and holds his leg up, bouncing up and down as he does.
“Oh, shoot, sorry about that,” she says, shaking her foot out like it was a nervous tic. “My leg just does that sometimes.”
Calder gapes back at her, looking like he can’t tell if she’s serious or joking. He doesn’t know her well enough to know that was definitely intentional. He rubs his leg and asks, “What’s going to happen to her?”
Trista shrugs. “I’ll probably bring her home for a few days, wait to make sure she doesn’t have an owner posting in the pet groups about a missing kitty, and if all clear, then I’ll bring her into the shelter to be adopted.”
“Oh, like Handsome?” I ask knowingly. “Or Strudel? Aren’t those two waiting to be adopted too?”
She narrows her eyes at me, and then her gaze drifts down my body for a moment and turn to liquid pools of heat. I’m covered in drywall dust and plaster and can’t possibly be appealing, but I know that look well by now.
The only problem is, today is our off day. She should not be looking at me like that on our off day.
My dusty jeans suddenly feel tight.
“I’ll take her back to the mountain and get her settled.” Trista turns to leave and then glances over her shoulder. “Are you boys almost done for the day?”
I shake my head firmly. “We’re behind schedule, so we’ve got a few more hours ahead of us tonight.”
“We can’t work too late. Luke and I have hockey practice tonight,” Calder says with a pointed look at me. “It was on the family calendar.”
“Hockey?” Trista asks curiously, holding the kitten to her neck.
Calder nods. “Yeah, we’re in an old-man’s league. It’s basically a team full of guys pushing forty who had no chance to play pro but like to pretend they could have if they wanted to.”
“We drink a shitload before we play, so we have an excuse for why we suck,” Luke adds with a laugh.
“It can be pretty intense.” Calder gets a distant look in his eyes as a memory hits him. “Last season, I experienced the hardest hit I’ve ever had in my hockey career, and it was me running into my own teammate.”
“My neck is still fucked up, thank you very much,” Luke says, tipping his head from side to side.
Trista bursts out laughing. “Oh, this I have to see.”
“Our season doesn’t start for a few more months, but we’ll get you to a game if Papa Bear approves it.” Calder eyes me curiously, but Trista tears my attention away from him.
“Wyatt, why don’t you play?”
“I hate hockey,” I reply with a frown. “Way too much failure.”
“Wyatt is super fun at parties,” Calder deadpans, and I cut him a menacing look.
“What time will you guys get home?” Trista asks, and I see that flicker of need in her eyes again.
My voice is strained when I reply, “It’ll be after sundown for sure.”
“After sundown,” she mumbles. “I like after sundown.” Her words are quiet, but I sure as hell heard them. Her lower lip juts out just slightly. “Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”
She gives us a friendly wave, and I watch for far longer than isappropriate, my mind reeling over the green light I’m pretty sure she was showing me. Does she want to break our rules? Because I sure as fuck would be just fine with that. But fucking hell, it’ll be late when we get back after hockey.
I struggle for the next thirty minutes to get back to work, and when I nearly shoot a nail through my thumb, I call it.
“Fuck this,” I growl, dropping the gun onto the ground and tossing my goggles off my face. I make my way to the door and call out to my brothers, “I, um…forgot about an appointment I have. I need to go.”
“What?” Calder barks, tipping his goggles up on top of his head. His inked arms are covered in sawdust. “You’re the one who’s been bitching about us being behind all day long.”
“I know, but this is important.”
