Page 55 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Seventeen
Maddox
Holding Harper against me, embracing her warmth, her lush sensuality, strangely brings me a joy that has nothing to do with physical excitement, though that’s there in the background. The deep galvanizing pleasure I feel has everything to do with pleasing her, giving her something she wants, even if it’s not me. Fuck, it feels too good.
With my eyes closed and my face buried in her hair, the hair that I’ve dreamed about splayed all over me, I take a deep breath and pray for the return of my sanity. Not that I’m the praying type except to the hockey gods on occasion. I’m so deep into her, dangerously invested beyond a friend or a potential lover because we’re not even actual lovers. I scoff at myself internally and straighten, loosening my arms, and step back.
The world around me comes into focus and I realize I’d lost sight of reality for a minute when I meet my sister’s gaze. Shit. She has that girly smile, and I know she has ideas in her head about me and Harper. Fuck. I drop my hands and back away further, the smile on my face faltering.
“You have no idea how much this means to me, Maddox.” Harper is breathless and staring at me like she’s been struck by Cupid. “No one’s ever given me such a thoughtful, beautiful gift. You knew exactly what I needed, wanted, and you got it for me.” I swallow down the lump of emotion, too chicken to find out what it’s made of.
“It was easy,” I say, which is true, but easy skims the surface of how much I anticipated this—the look on her face, seeing her so pleased. And now I realize how much her appreciation exceeds my expectations. And how much trouble we both might be in.
“You can be so sweet sometimes, big brother.” Katy comes to me and hugs my arm, swiping a tear from her face. “Don’t mind me. It’s the baby hormones.” Harper laughs, and I see the glitter of tears in her eyes.
Then my sister embraces her and it’s as if they’re suddenly real friends, bonded and communicating silently in their heartfelt hug. Shit. When, how did this happen? It can’t be over a couple of meals and a shared moment like this, with me. Is this all because they think I’m … I can’t even think about what they’re reading into this gift. I especially don’t want to consider if there’s any possibility—no.
Sure, it feels good to please Harper—okay, more than good, but that doesn’t mean… anything. It doesn’t mean there’s any future. After the season she’ll fade away into the background where she always was and I’ll move on. Shit, why does that idea make my gut clench? In a very bad way.
The two women end their bonding clutch and I busy myself cleaning up the kitchen.
“I need to get going,” Katy says. “I’ve already packed. Sorry to drink coffee and run, but I need to get back to my hubby. I kind of miss him. Especially after seeing—”
“Tell the lucky bastard to give me a call and he better not miss the next game.”
“Will do.” She laughs and we hug and Harper walks her to the front door.
When Harper comes back to the kitchen, I stiffen. She’s still smiling.
“I really like your sister. I wish I had one.” She sounds so heart-wrenchingly wistful that my first instinct is to tell her she can share mine. But I give myself a mental slap. That would sound too much like… commitment. “You can rent Katy for a weekend here and there. The rate is cheap,” I say, trying to joke, but my grin is half-assed. She laughs as if she doesn’t notice.
“I’m going to take a shower now.” I realize my mistake when her eyes snap to mine and we’re both reliving that moment outside my shower. Fuck. I don’t say another word and remove myself from the kitchen, from her presence, for once not needing that kind of shower. But I do need to clear my head. To get back to a place where we can stay in the moment and just be together without any past or future baggage interfering.
* * *
After my long-ass shower, I’m clean and refreshed and ready to be myself again, the guy I know. After sitting at the end of my bed scrolling through texts, I realize I have a free Sunday afternoon. Instead of accepting any of the half dozen invitations to do various activities with assorted teammates, I want to do something better.
I return to the kitchen. My heart beats a little faster when I see her, her hair curtaining her face as she leans over her computer screen, which is on the kitchen island.
“Hey there, Harper, what are you doing?” I take a seat on the rocker set in a corner of the kitchen. I think of it as the old-fashioned corner, with a fireplace and hearth rug, while the rest of the kitchen is sleek and modern.
She looks up, her green eyes slamming into my heart and her long auburn hair shining in the morning sunlight. My chest tightens. It’s both uncomfortable and satisfying at the same time. And very confusing. Still. Shit. But I keep moving, staying in the moment.
“You’re not working, are you?” She blinks, then smiles and shuts her laptop with a snap.
“I’m always working, Knight. You’re the project, remember?” Her tone is teasing and I love when she gives me sass. Almost as much as I love when I give her sass and she rambles on and on.
“How about an excursion?”
“What did you have in mind?” She’s wary and I grin.
“Children’s Hospital. A spontaneous visit.” Her face lights up like Christmas, the glow almost as bright as when she opened that box of foolish shoes. What a puzzle she is, all practical and hardworking on one hand, but hiding so many surprises of fiery passion and impulsiveness.
“Let’s do it,” she says, “but on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Anticipation ratchets up my excitement and I know my mind is going places she’ll never go, but that’s the plight of a filthy-minded guy—most guys.
“We have to go to a store first and buy toys. No way can we show up empty handed.”
