“See something you like?” Liam asks from behind.
I spin, and as soon as I see him standing there in his low-slung jeans and dry T-shirt that accentuates broad shoulders and a hard body, one thought hits. I want to sleep with my son’s big brother, which sounds wrong, dirty and completely inappropriate.
I open my mouth about to tell him just that, when one working brain cell pings me.
Don’t do it, Harper. Close your mouth. Walk away. Don’t give the wrong idea, or the right idea, or let him think what’s about to come out of your mouth next has nothing to do about the book in your hand and everything about the guy standing before you.
I take a deep breath and let my gaze rake over his body as I slowly release it. “Yeah, I do.”
5
Liam
My muscles tighten, one in particular as her gaze drinks me in like I’m a great big frozen margarita and she’s been in the desert for weeks. Okay, she clearly likes what she sees, and damn, so do I, but hooking up with her is wrong, right? I’m supposed to be cleaning up my image, not sleeping with every gorgeous girl in my orbit.
“Can we go skate now?” Gavin asks.
“You bet,” I say, and clear my throat, because wow, was that my voice? Harper turns and slides the book back into its spot. The truth is I don’t usually invite single, eligible women into my home, don’t show this side of myself to anyone. So why am I doing it with Harper? I guess maybe because we have a different relationship. She doesn’t even like hockey. She only knows my reputation by what she’s read about me, and I don’t have to be the Rule Breaker around her.
“I grabbed you a sweater,” I tell her, and hold it out to her. “Gavin, you have one packed in your duffle bag, right?”
“He does,” she says as she pulls my big sweater over her head. It’s big and floppy and she couldn’t possibly look more adorable. I stare a little too long, unable to tear my gaze away until Gavin speaks.
“I don’t want to wear a sweater,” he pouts.
“You will when we get there.” We head back outside, and I drive the short distance to the rink. Gavin makes fire engine noises in the back when we pass the station, and Harper remains relatively quiet, humming to the songs on the radio. I pull into the parking lot, and recognize the vehicles as I ease my truck into a spot. I bite back a grin, knowing Cole and his family are already here. Gavin is going to lose his mind, and I’m super excited about that. I park and say, “Ready to try some skates on, kiddo?”
He nods and is so rushed trying to unbuckle himself, he can’t get the belt off as his little fingers fumble. “Slow down, bud. No hurry.”
Harper and I exit the vehicle, and Gavin finally gets himself out and I grab the box of skates and open my tailgate. “Up you two go.”
Harper jumps up and I help Gavin. They both look adorable sitting there swinging their legs and I rifle through the box and hand over sizes I think will fit. As they try them on, a news van rolls up.
“What’s going on?” Harper asks, a measure of panic in her voice.
“I don’t know. Someone probably tipped them off that a bunch of the Shooters rented the rink today. Here to get a story or something. It’s no big deal.” I put on my game face, ready to play it up when I notice the stiffness in Harper’s body, the way her cheeks have paled slightly. What the hell? Come to think of it, she didn’t like all the pictures at the ice cream shop either. Is she camera shy, or does she have something to hide?
“You okay?” I ask, as a guy jumps from the van with his camera.
“Yeah, I just… I’m not like you, Liam. I don’t enjoy this kind of attention.” I eye her, but something doesn’t sit right in my gut. There’s more to it than that. Before I realize what’s happening, we’re being recorded. I put my hand up, and step up to the reporter. “Leave them out of this.” Damned if that doesn’t intrigue him all the more. He looks around my shoulder, but I move to block him.
“Who are they?” the guy asks, refusing to let it go.
“Some friends. I’m involved in the Big Brother program,” I tell him, leaving out the part that it’s step one in my playboy recovery program.
He gives me a knowing grin. “Yeah? Big Sister, too?”
“Not funny. She’s his mother. That’s it.”
“I bet it is,” he says, and I consider it for a moment. Getting photographed with sweet Harper, a pet groomer and dog walker, isn’t such a bad thing. Too bad she’s not onboard with it. I answer a few more questions, and give him permission to get a few shots of the guys on the rink. No harm can come from it, and it’s good publicity for the team.
Once the guy walks away, I give Harper and Gavin plastic blade protectors so they can wear their skates inside. I grab my skates, and Gavin’s bag, and toss them over my shoulders. Harper’s mood has shifted, her shoulders a little heavier.
“You okay?” I ask, and she
