I Pucking Love You (The Copper Valley Thrusters #5) - Pippa Grant Page 0,48
this Tyler Jaeger who’s here this weekend is more than just a guy who’ll take any available woman.
If he likes me.
And I think he does.
Would he have told anyone else about what happened with his grandfather? Would he have stuck around after the funeral home last night and still be planning on going to graveside services with another woman today?
I kinda don’t think he’d do it for any of his hockey buddies.
Or possibly even his sisters.
But he’s here. Being not just a date, but my champion.
Screw it.
I’m doing this.
I’m being brave. I’m taking a chance. I’m being bold.
I’m going to do what I’d tell my clients to do, and I’m going to march myself into that bathroom, strip off my clothes, and climb into the shower with him.
He invited me, right?
He wants me to.
And even if it’s only because he’s horny and I’m a girl, do I care?
Probably.
Okay, yes.
I want him to want me like I’m someone better than any other girl.
I take one step toward the bathroom.
Then another.
And another, until I’m standing at the door.
I hear the shower turn on.
It’s now or never.
So I pull off my Thrusters T-shirt and fling open the door as I launch my shirt into the room at him.
The door connects hard with something and thuds to a stop. Tyler yelps, straightens, and grabs his bare ass, and oh my god.
Oh my god.
I flush so hard I get an instant headache as I slam the door shut again.
My face is on fire.
My scalp too.
Even my hair.
I think my hair is blushing.
I’m standing here with my boobs hanging out after accidentally ramming a doorknob up Tyler Jaeger’s ass.
Maybe there’s a reason I was a virgin until the night of the walk-in fridge at the club.
And maybe that reason is me.
18
Tyler
Never, ever, ever let me think that things couldn’t possibly get more awkward.
Somehow, passing out at a funeral home, telling her about my zombie grandfather, and snuggling her with a broken dick all night is still not the end of the awkward.
Now, we’re sitting at a comfortable table in a high-scale suite while the train wreck gets worse, unable to look at each other since she tried to join me in the shower.
Not that we discussed that that was her intention.
Pretty clear given that I caught a glimpse of her tits and found her shirt on the bathroom floor once my ass quit aching.
This’ll be a fun one to explain to the team doctor. Yeah, it’s bruised because I almost got a prostrate exam from a doorknob.
And speaking of exams—
“Oh my gosh, you’re both doctors!” Daisy’s saying to Muffy and Veda, who made the fatal mistake of telling Muffy that anything would be better than breakfast with her own family this morning, and is now sitting with the four of us as the fifth wheel in a married-couple-plus-two-spare-wheels-already situation.
“She’s a matchmaker,” Veda interjects with a bright smile. “These crepes are delicious. I didn’t know they served crepes here.”
Knowing Daisy, she brought along her own personal chef to take over the hotel’s kitchen. I’d question if these are actually the hotel’s plates and linens except for West’s no-nonsense approach to everything that’s basically the opposite of his wife’s.
Also knowing Daisy, discussing crepes won’t distract her from the more interesting discussion of Muffy’s career. “Fruit salad’s better,” I interject. “You try the pomegranate mango salad?”
“A matchmaker!” Daisy claps her hands. “That’s such a cool job. How many couples have you matched?”
“Daisy, is Remy supposed to be stacking those blocks?” I ask.
He’s one.
Of course he’s supposed to be stacking blocks in the corner after leaving his breakfast mostly untouched. He probably already had breakfast.
How do I know?
Because every time the grandkids come to stay at my parents’ house, they’re always up at the crack of dawn, being fed their breakfast by adults who look like there’s not enough coffee in the world to help them recover from a parenting hangover.
But that’s not the point right now.
Right now, the point is that West is giving me the what in the ever-loving world is wrong with you? look.
No doubt it’ll quickly morph into Oh, your girlfriend sucks as a matchmaker? look, and I don’t want that look, since Muffy gets enough shit in her life for everything else, so instead, I accidentally spill my orange juice.
On purpose. “Oh, shit.”
“Watch your mouth in front of the baby,” West growls.