It makes me giddy. My pro hockey player and my friend’s boyfriend are bonding over wedding shenanigans.
Cammie and I make a lips-zipped, cross-our-hearts motion.
Chase and Flip have a silent conversation, and then Flip nods. “So Tristan’s pants were too small,” he explains.
Tristan is a mammoth of a man. He’s almost six and a half feet tall, and his hands are stupid huge.
“His business was businessing,” Chase blurts.
“And Lavender was called in to fix it,” Flip adds.
“Oh my God.” Cammie splays her hands on the table. I bet she’s planning a scene for one of her fics.
“Did Kodiak lose his mind?” I ask.
Flip nods. “I thought his head might explode when Lavender had to let out the crotch of Tristan’s pants.”
Cammie and I burst out laughing. “The way he loves his wife is goals.”
“He’s loved her his entire life,” Flip says. “Since they were kids. They’re soulmates.”
“Their love seems so endless,” I muse. My stomach twists uncomfortably. I can’t imagine those two without each other. But what if something happened? How devastated would Kodiak be? How broken?
Flip slides his arm along the back of my seat, thumb brushing back and forth along my shoulder blade, maybe sensing my sudden disquiet. I hate how my parents’ divorce has made me question even the strongest of bonds.
Flip asks Chase about the hockey season at Tilton, which sparks an animated conversation about where Chase is hoping tobe after graduation. I love that Flip is connecting with my friends like this, that he’s happy to give advice and gentle guidance.
After brunch, we drop Chase and Cammie at her sister’s place and head back to my apartment. Fee is at the art studio, working on a project.
Flip grabs his bag out of the trunk. I’m anxious and excited to have him all to myself as we take the elevator to my apartment. Two guys recognize him, and he signs their hats. It doesn’t seem to faze him at all.
“Does that ever get annoying?” I ask once we’re in my apartment.
“Being recognized by fans?” He takes off his coat while Parsnip scales his leg.
“Yeah.”
“I’m always happy to sign hats and jerseys, but when they get touchy, it can be a lot,” he admits.
He doesn’t need to elaborate. I’ve seen plenty of women hanging off him at bars over the years. People assume they can touch him without asking permission because he’s a public figure.
Flip relocates my cat to his shoulder so he can take off his boots. Parsnip hops to the floor, then follows us down the hall. My stomach is full of butterflies as I lead him to my bedroom. I push the door open, thankful I remembered to hide my body pillow in the closet.
He steps into my bedroom and drops his duffle on the floor, eyes moving around the space. I try to see it through his eyes. It looks like a regular bedroom, apart from the desk in the corner with my computer, which makes it a decidedly student space.
He walks over to my bed, turns around, and gracefully falls back to stretch out on the teal comforter. He takes up an unreasonable amount of space on my double bed, and I love it.
Flip tucks one arm behind his head and extends his hand. “I promised I would let youtryto get me to do naughty things.”
I slip my fingers into his and let him pull me closer. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the stress on the wordtry.”
“Today we test my self-restraint.” He wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me onto the bed with him, moving me to straddle his hips. He’s so broad, thick shoulders, heavy biceps, defined pecs, washboard abs, and a tapered waist complemented by a hockey butt and powerful thighs. I settle my palms on his chest and take in his gorgeous face.
His hands curve around my knees. “What are you going to do with me now that you have me in your bed?”
“Admire you.” I trace the line of his brow. “Enjoy having you all to myself.”
“That’s a nice thing to say.” He fingers a lock of my hair, then slips his hand under the strands, settling his palm against my nape.
