Page 247 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
Daltyn catches me against his chest before I fall. Again.
His hands settle automatically on my hips.
Comfortable. Instinctive. Possessive.
And what hits me hardest isn’t the touch.
It’s him.
Because he’s not guarded right now.
He’s laughing. Relaxed. Touching me openly.
Letting the chirping happen without threatening bodily harm.
For the first time since I met him, Daltyn looks happy enough not to care.
The realization settles softly into my chest.
Yeah. I can deal with the embarrassment of being a terrible skater.
As long as Daltyn keeps smiling like this.
Hours later,we finally make it back to the cabin.
My legs feel like overcooked noodles.
Daltyn is carrying his hockey bag, our skates, and my coat because, at some point, I handed it to him without thinking, and he took it without complaint.
Domesticity sneaks up on us in weird ways.
We’ve barely gotten settled inside when there’s a knock on the door.
The second Daltyn pulls it open, chaos greets us.
Thelma and Gram stand on the porch, big smiles on their faces. Their hands are full of bags and coffee.
“Oh, good,” Gram says with a big smile. “The lovebirds survived.”
I blink.
Thelma calmly smiles like this is completely normal.
Gram barges inside, Thelma behind her.
They head to the island, covering it with pastries, muffins, donuts, and enough coffee for an army.
“What’s happening?” I ask cautiously.
“We brought sustenance,” Thelma says warmly.
“We also came to investigate,” Gram adds.
Daltyn shuts the door and turns around slowly. “That sounds threatening.”
“It should,” I mutter.
Gram squints at both of us, then her eyes narrow. “Oh yeah,” she says knowingly. “You two had sex.”
