Page 3 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

Once I’ve placed my order, I go back to the box I was unpacking. I know I probably should have hit the kitchen or bathroom first—they’re the most necessary things—but I couldn’t help myself from wanting it to feel like home immediately. So instead, I started on my photos. I’ve got so many of my parents, Garrett, and me over the years, in various locations. There are also some of the girls and me. Each and every one makes me smile as I find its new home, just as I did when I carefully wrapped and packed them for the move.

I’m surrounded by my favorite people in the world, including a copy of Bea’s most recent scan, because that little one growing in her tummy is already at the top of my favorite people list, right with its momma.

Then I move to the kitchen and begins on the task of deciding where to put everything. My plates get dizzy moving from one cupboard to another until I finally settle on the right location. And of course, that spot is the very first place I tried. Why must I overthink it?

Miraculously, I’m almost halfway done with the kitchen by the time my cell buzzes to say my food arrival is imminent.

Excitement flutters in my empty stomach, and I practically run toward my front door, ready to collect my meal.

I watch the guy’s progress to my building as I ride down in the elevator, and as if I planned it, the concierge buzzes him in just as the doors open.

“How is it going?” Harold, the concierge, asks once I’ve got my food safely in my arms. The scent makes my stomach growl even louder.

“Yeah, you know. A lot of boxes.”

He smiles knowingly at me. “I’m sure you’ll be sorted in no time.”

“Here’s hoping. I’ve got to go back to work soon.”

“I have faith in you.”

“Thank you. I hope you have a good evening.”

If it’s possible, his smile gets even wider. “Oh, I will. My better half is making my favorite supper.”

“Well, enjoy.” With a little wave, I head back up to my apartment before devouring my burger and chips with the kind of ferocity that would rival Rett and the guys.

I’ve just finished when my cell rings and I find Bea’s smiling face lighting up my screen.

I swipe and put her on speaker.

“Hey, how’s it going?” she asks the moment our call connects.

“It’s…going.” I laugh as I look at the chaos surrounding me.

“You know I’d come help if⁠—”

“No. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening.”

“So stubborn,” she chastises.

“You’ve been on your feet all day covering my clients, and that sexy man of yours is due home any minute, right?”

“He’s about ten minutes away, I think.”

“Exactly. You have no place being here after not seeing him for a few days. Let him rub your feet.”

“Pretty sure he’ll be interested in rubbing more than just my feet, Si.”

I snigger like a schoolgirl.

“So jealous,” I confess.

“There are plenty of willing guys on the team. All you’ve gotta do is give them the right look.”

I know this. Not only has she told me before, but almost every single player on the LA Vipers roster has hit on me in the last few months. The most I’ve agreed to is dancing, though.

While I might be jealous of all the hot and sweaty sex Bea is having, I’m not interested in just being a bit of fun—especially for someone I’m going to have to spend time with over the coming years.