Busted (Promise Harbor Wedding) - By Sydney Somers Page 0,18
space beyond the tree branch, except a few handfuls of twigs that wouldn’t hold up a squirrel—or a near-rabid kitten—let alone him.
“Too bad that I forgot my scissors in the car.”
Hayley gave him a dirty look.
He grinned. “Would have been easier.” His knee bumped hers, throwing him off balance, and she immediately clamped a hand on his wrist to steady him.
A whole different kind of warmth hit his veins.
The breeze kicked up and the smell of her shampoo—apples and some kind of flower—intensified the warming deep in his gut.
He concentrated on freeing her hair, apologizing when a tricky spot made her wince.
“Why did you ever want to dye this black? I think women would kill for hair the color of sunshine.”
Hayley’s eyes were unreadable when they shifted to meet his.
Sunshine? Jesus. Why didn’t he just grow a vagina if he was going to be so damn girly?
She lifted a shoulder, her hand moving to tug at the drooping neckline. Apparently he wasn’t fast enough to pretend his attention hadn’t strayed in that direction.
“Enjoy the view while it lasts, Knight.”
He laughed, then shifted his weight back to his heels. “I think I got it all.”
She moved a fraction of an inch, her hand grasping her dress. “Still stuck.”
He leaned closer, looking down over her shoulder. He spotted the problem. “It snagged your bra.” It also scratched her, and a few drops of blood dotted her back, which as it turned out revealed almost as much skin as her chest.
Balancing as best he could, he reached around her, wondering if he imagined the shiver than ran through her.
“Running down thieves and scaling trees in a dress to rescue kittens. You like to set the bar high for yourself, don’t you?”
“I was even thinking of helping a few seniors cross the street to round out my day.”
He almost had it… “That’s not the Hayley I remember.”
She tipped her head back, and he could read the skepticism that he remembered anything about her at all.
“The Hayley I remember was too busy dodging the cops to help out anyone.”
She scoffed. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“Didn’t you steal a truck and almost wreck it?” He was too busy trying to untangle her to recall the details.
“It was my friend’s dad’s truck—”
“From his construction company, right?”
Hayley ignored him. “—and it was just a few scratches.”
A vague memory of the newspaper images of the smashed truck popped into his head. “And Gretzky was just an average hockey player.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he finally worked her free of the branch. Unfortunately he also unhooked her bra in the process. He managed to capture the lacy black ends before they disappeared under her dress.
“Little complication.”
Trying to look over her shoulder, she said, “The other team stealing the puck is a little complication. A strapless bra coming undone is a serious dress malfunction.”
An image of Hayley in nothing but the strapless bra shot through his mind faster than a breakaway play.
“Jackson?”
He cleared his throat, forcing his hands to move again. “I’ve got a bit more experience taking these off than putting them back on.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
He refastened her bra. “I’m not nearly as shallow as you think.”
“Says the man who was disappointed I was wearing panties.”
“Good point.” He smiled. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt to mention that if you ever want some firsthand expertise with taking this off—”
“I’ll call Eric.”
“That douche?” he snapped, not catching sight of Hayley’s grin until the last second.
“Here.” Hayley scooped up the kitten and shoved him at Jackson.
The furball hissed and dug his back claws into Jackson’s side—son of a bitch—but didn’t try to squirm free.
“Hold on to him while I climb down.” She edged out onto another limb to get around Jackson.
The fugly kitten stared up at him, opening and closing his mouth in a silent hiss that more closely resembled a guppy.
Hayley’s hand shot out as she lost her balance, and thankfully she got a good grip on Jackson.
Too bad Jackson didn’t have on good grip on anything except the kitten when Hayley pulled him out of the tree.
Chapter Three
Hitting the ground from a ten-foot drop felt pretty damn close to getting sandwiched between two burly defensemen.
Staying on his feet wasn’t an option, not when Jackson had tried not to land directly on Hayley or the kitten. He would have cursed at the little fucker’s claws digging into his chest if he could breathe. Oxygen was slow to reinflate his lungs.
Unfortunately, the second he could suck in a breath, pain pushed