She stole his breath away.
.~* * * ~.
Puck after puck, shot after shot,T.J. aimed top shelf, short side, five-hole, blocker side, stick side. Hepracticed wraparounds, bank shots, and sliding the puck under the goalie’spads. Extra ice time where he and Nelson worked on theirgive-and-goes, on setting each other up.
Several teammates watched from the sidelines. Some cheered;others taunted. Hopeful signs they were beginning to accept him. Practice hadbeen a little rough, but T.J. locked it out.
Sweat pouring off him in rivulets, he began gathering uppucks on one side of the net while Nelson corralled those on the other side.
Dave Grimson, the “Grim Reaper,”skated over. “So, Shanny, you practicing to be thenext Gretzky? Thought you were more of a brawler.”
Wiping his face with the bottom of his practice jersey, T.J.side-eyed his captain. “Never hurts to work on my shot.” Here it comes:You’re no goal-scorer. You’re an enforcer. A grinder.
“I’ll work with you if you want.” Grimsshrugged. “In fact, I bet most of the guys here would.” He swept his handtoward the onlookers.
Taken aback, T.J. blinked. “Yeah, Grims.That’d be great.”
“All right. Get these pucks picked up and stop batting youreyelashes at me, or the guys’ll think you’re tryingto kiss me.” With a wink, the captain skated away. Mid-ice, he stopped, seemingto remember something. “Some of us are grabbing dinner at the Chophouse tonightwith our SOs,” he hollered. “Eight o’clock.” He pointed at Nelson. “Admiral,you’re invited too.”
Relief—and something a little warm and fuzzy—surged insideT.J., and he forgot about the cuts and bruises he’d earned in practice. Rightnow he was only focused on dinner with the guys. Yeah, that was something hewould not miss.
.~* * * ~.
“We should bring Mom next time.”Natalie stowed her gear in the cargo box atop Drew’s Outback and climbed intothe front passenger seat, satisfaction oozing through her. What a perfect day.Enough clouds to make hungry, cagey fish rise in the shadows and take the fliesshe’d cast on the water’s swirling surface.
Ford had snoozed with Annie and Meathead in the SUV, endingthe day with a woofing, splashing romp in silty poolsalong the muddy bank. Caged behind the vehicle’s net barrier for the drivehome, the dogs smiled and panted. And, man, did they stink! She’d have to cleanFord before Tyler came for him.
“I asked her, but she was too busy.” He used air quotes for “busy”as he slid behind the wheel. “I swear we never should have started her onNetflix.”
Natalie chortled. “Maybe it’s not TV. What if Mom has aboyfriend?”
“What? Oh hell no. Nuh-uh.”
“Why not? Mary Foster’s a vibrant woman. She’s a catch.”Natalie grinned at her own joke.
“She’s our mom. Moms don’t … Shit. I can’t believe you justput that thought in my head. Now I’ve gottableach it out. You are the suckiest sister on planet, you know that?”
“I try. Seriously, Drewbert, Mommight find someone before we do.”
He eyed her warily. “We? When did you join me in singledom?”
“Not sure I have. My hold on coupledom’s a little shaky,though.” Saying it out loud didn’t bother her as much as she’d expected.
“Why? What’s going on with Kevin?”
“The right question would be what’s going on with him andhis ex?”
Drew’s eyebrows traveled to his hairline. “Seriously?”
Natalie nodded. “They still have feelings for each other.And I’m okay with that. I’d rather see a reconciliation,especially where Emma’s involved. Besides, Tyler said I was pretty thismorning.” Yep, she’d scarfed up the “pretty dog-sitter” compliment like apie-eating contestant hell-bent on winning.
Drew shook his head.
“What?” she retorted.
He stopped at a red light and shot her a warning look.“Don’t fall for his lines, Nat.”
Her deflector shields locked into place. “He just threw itout there, Drew. He’s a guy, so it probably didn’t mean anything. Butit’s still nice to hear once in a while.”
The light turned green, and they rode in silence for a fewminutes.
“Did I tell you Tyler knows Beckett Miller, and heset up a meeting with Beckett’s wife? She’s my newest bookkeeping client.”
Drew’s eyes widened, and his mouth swung open. “The BeckettMiller?”
Natalie smirked. “Mm-hmm. So be nice. I might introduceyou someday.”
“Wait. How does Hummer Man know Miller?”
“He says they met a long time ago.”
Drew rubbed a finger over his chin. “Any more clues aboutwhat he does for a living?”
“Nope.” The question—one she’d been asking herself over andover—bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
Drew let out a derisive snort. “Guy drives an expensivevehicle, doesn’t do a nine-to-five, and is in quote entertainmentunquote.”
She shrugged. “He says he sells sports, which fits becausehe’s really ripped and has this gorgeous tattoo that goes from here to here.”She traced a fingertip from her upper arm to her shoulder. “Maybe he’s one ofthose Beach Body workout guys.”
“How do you know he’s really ripped? And how did youget a look at his tattoo?”
“You can’t miss his rippedness,”she stammered. “As for the tat, he texted me a picture of him lying in bed—”
Her brother dropped his chin, looking as though he mightcharge her.
“Shit. This isn’t coming out right. Let me rephrase. He sentme a picture of Ford curled up in bed with him. He happened to bewearing a tank, which is how I saw the tat. Just his arm andpart of his shoulder. That’s it. That’s all I saw.”
The more she spewed, the guiltier she sounded, though she’ddone nothing wrong. She’d merely noticed some exceptional muscle definition …and his butt. But she was only appreciating the male form.
Drew’s skeptical look fastened on her. Hopefully, hecouldn’t read her runaway thoughts.
She pointed her index and middle fingers at her eyes then atthe windshield. “Eyes on the road, Bro.”
He faced forward. “Nice try.” A beat later, he added, “Theguy’s either a porn star or a drug dealer. Maybe he was Miller’s dealer. Theywent on those wild cruises together—you know what I’m talking about. The kindyour clients used to charter. Where each guy picks two orthree chicks for a long weekend. Wealthy guy stuff.”
A laugh bubbled up inside her despite her best efforts tosquelch it. “Where the hell do you get this crap? I swear you watch waaaay too
