Page 4 of Pucking Good Girl

“Why don’t we go have breakfast at my place, then?” Becks suggests. “The deck out back is right on the beach. There’s a table and chairs outside and we could eat without getting sand in our food.”

I don’t argue with that idea. If Talia’s problem is down to more than blood sugar, it’s more likely that she’ll open up somewhere private. And the Gamma House is the opposite of private when everyone is back from practice.

Once Talia is settled into the passenger seat, I pass her a large cup of Diet Coke and I ask Becks to grab some mini hash browns from the bag of food next to him on the back seat.

“Would you mind eating those while we get to Becks’s place? I don’t want you to pass out.”

Talia pops one golden brown fried potato into her mouth.

The moan that escapes her reverberates in all sorts of inappropriate places.

“Oh, my God.” she says, grabbing another one. “Mini hash browns are one of my favorite things in the world.”

I stifle a laugh as I spot the look on Becks’s face in the rearview mirror when Talia moans again as she eats more hash browns.

It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who will never be able to look at hash browns again without getting hard.

The apartment Dad rented for me and Becks is situated in a brand new luxury complex past the old marina and the grounds where we had our summer training.

This area of town is still relatively underdeveloped, so all that surrounds the complex is golden sand and a maritime pine forest.

Rather than apartments, the units are condos, each with a private deck out back with access to the beach.

As Becks ushers us into his place, I notice how everything is still new and pristine.

We cross a spacious living room; the kitchen is also visible since the space is built as an open plan.

Full-length patio doors lead out to a deck that, as Becks promised, is furnished with a wrought-iron and glass table and chairs.

A hot tub sits in one corner, with its cover still on. There’s also a little outdoor cooking area with a grill and one of those outdoor pizza ovens that are so popular these days.

I doubt my brother will be making pizza anytime soon, but I must admit that if I had taken Dad’s offer to move in with Becks, I would have definitely tried my hand at using that bad boy.

Right now, however, my focus is on my girl.

Talia has barely said a couple of words since she got in the car, and I know something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.

Becks and I sit on either side of her at the table, and she thanks me when I offer her a breakfast sandwich.

“I already had a portion of hash browns.” She protests when I offer her mine.

“They’re your favorite. You can have mine too. I got extra sandwiches, so I’m not going to starve.”

Of course, the second she accepts my offer, Becks offers his portion of hash browns too.

“Thank you, but I really can’t. I struggle enough to keep my weight in check without eating like a starving hockey player.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Becks bites out. “You’re perfect the way you are. And I would feel the same way even if you gained weight, FYI.”

My brother’s words cause the first smile I’ve seen on Talia’s face today, and a wave of powerful, unadulterated jealousy washes over me.

I want to be the one to make her smile. But it lasts only one second. Despite the jealousy, the truth is that I don’t care who or what makes Talia smile. As long as she’s happy.

“Thanks, Becks.” She pushes his bag of fried potatoes toward him. “You and Macklin should have these. I’ll just take a couple of extras from Macklin’s portion too. I really don’t want to overeat.”

We eat our breakfast without talking much. The murmur of the sea a few hundred feet away is the only soundtrack to our own thoughts.

Talia still looks troubled, and I debate if this is the right time to tell her that I quit. That I don’t want to be her fake boyfriend anymore because my feelings for her have been real from the start.