Mister Hockey (Hellions Angels #1)(26)

If she wanted him to stick around, she couldn’t give him any more reasons to run, especially when Uncle Spencer would not stop with the Shakespeare jokes and Granny was on her third Green Meanie. She’d just conveniently leave out a few facts, and if he wanted to draw his own conclusion that she didn’t like sports, no harm, no foul.

Later she’d tell him. Yes. Yes she would.

If they had a later.

She snuck a second slice of flag cake and shoved a whipped cream-covered strawberry into her mouth, biting down. Chewing, she stared straight ahead, refusing to look over at her mom whose disapproving gaze was burning a hole in the side of her face. Out of spite, she forked off an even bigger bite, this time all cake, and forked it in her mouth.

Jed West was here with her. And she was eating cake.

Take that.

Her swallow felt like a raised middle finger to the status quo.

But even while this small victory felt awesome, she really had no idea what was going on. Halfway through the car ride over here, she’d almost leaned over and grabbed Jed’s shoulder, given it a shake and yelled, “Hello? Can you please tell me what is going on? What are you doing here?”

She checked her mouth for crumbs. The truth was that if she wanted to get to know him better, it wasn’t going to happen lurking over the dessert table. No, she had to stride over and . . . and . . .

A cornhole game was set up on the lawn.

Yesssssss. Perfect.

She sauntered over to a board, picked up a bean bag and tossed it up and down in her hand. “Hey, Jed,” she called, casually. Like oh, yeah, Hey, Jed. Jedy Jed. Jedmeister. What’s up, Jed West. Aka the dude-she-made-out-with-and-who-drove-her-here-and-is-now-stranded-with-her-crazy-family.

She lobbed a bean bag at his feet, but her aim went wild and knocked off the sunglasses propped on the top of his head.

The entire party fell silent. Proof positive if any was needed that everyone had been silently monitoring the situation.

“Oh my God, I’m so so—”

“That’s some arm you’ve got, Vixen.” Jed bent down and picked up his shades with an easy grin.

“Vixen?” she heard Aunt Shell murmur to a table. “Who the heck is Vixen?”

“Want to play a game?” she asked quickly.

“With a challenge like that, how can I resist?”

He sauntered over and the crowd resumed their chatter.

She reached out and touched the red mark on his forehead. “Sorry about that. I was cut from the high school softball team. With good reason.”

“Their loss. You have power in that arm.”

“Sorry about my family too. I know they’re a little intense.”

He leaned in and brushed her hair back from her ear before whispering, “Make me one promise for the rest of the day.”

She shivered at his hot breath on her neck. He smelled a little like cinnamon gum and a lot like heaven. “I never make a deal without knowing the terms.”

He chuckled, low and deep. “No apologizing.”

She pulled back, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m serious. Not one. Not for the rest of the day.”

She nodded, cautious.

“And what are we playing for?”

“Like a prize?”

“Sure, every good competition needs a prize. Tell you what. I win, you tell me what’s in your granny’s Greenie Meanies.”

Her eyes widened. “You drank one? Those suckers are lethal.”

“She shared hers with me and it tried to knock me on my ass.”

“It’s the secret to her longevity.”

“Then I’ll toast to that. And if you win . . .”

She wrinkled her nose. “Shouldn’t I get to name my spoils?”

“You could, but I wouldn’t make you do that in front of family.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” She was half-flirtatious and half-confused. It seemed like he was being a little dirty, and it wasn’t like she minded, but she also didn’t want to assume . . .

“You win the game and your wish is my command. You do like to play games, don’t you, Breezy? You have a lot of . . . toys.”

Good lord.

He spoke casually enough. Anyone watching them would think he made a passing observation about the weather, or asked for clarification on the game’s rules.

But the glint in his eyes? That was pure devil.

“You’re bad,” she whispered, her cheeks heating. And that wasn’t the only place getting a little warmer. Her toes curled.

He didn’t blink. “You’ve got no idea.”

She didn’t actually. But if there was a benevolent god, he’d grant her a miracle and the opportunity to discover what hid behind his famous “boy next door” persona.

Soon. She shifted, her jeans slick against her secret skin. Soon.

He might have run out the other day. But he didn’t look like he was going anywhere now.

They played cornhole for the next hour. “Why do I get the distinct impression you are throwing the game?” She laughed as one of his bean bags landed near the kiddie pool.

He winked. “Because you have a brain.”

That’s it. If she got any wetter she was going to require a raincoat. Time to hit the road. She’d made an appearance. The flag cake was demolished on the table. The music was a little louder. The laughter a little more raucous as Granny Dee’s Greenie Meanies circulated the adult crowd and the kids began to feel the effects of the red soda they’d been guzzling by the plastic cup. Sparklers were brought out. Firecrackers began popping.