Page 62 of Mother Pucker

She gives me an understanding smile. “I’m looking forward to meeting your sister.”

“She’s excited to see you, too.”

I’m just headed out when she whacks my ass with her palm. “Go after that puck, Slick. I have dessert planned for after dinner tonight,” her eyes gleam with mischief, “but only for a winner.”

“That last period had my heart racing!” Piper says excitedly, scooting into the private booth Zach reserved for us on the other side of Shayla and me. “That pass you made to Aiden Langfield, and the way he slid it past the San Jose goalie, with literally two seconds left in the game? Not kidding, I was holding my chest.”

“It was a fucking close win, but,” I look over at the beautiful raven-haired woman sitting next to me, “I had an extra incentive to win. Dessert tonight.”

Piper’s gaze bounces between the two of us before she seems to glean the meaning and wrinkles her nose. “I have a feeling I wouldn’t want to know about this specificdessert.” She smiles at Shay. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Shayla, and while I’m not at liberty to divulge anything my brother tells me, out of respect for the sister's oath and all, I can say . . . you seem to make him very happy.”

I can feel the heat emanating from Shayla’s body, and I don’t need to look at her to know her cheeks are flushed. I clasp her hand with mine, letting her know it’s okay.

“He makes me happy, too,” she says, meeting my gaze before breaking away to address Piper. “So, Piper, what do you do?”

The three of us–my sister, Shay, and I–drove here after the game, but during that short drive, I swear I haven’t gotten a word in since.

Between my sister firing off a machine gun of questions at Shay, and Shay desperately trying to squeeze in her own, it was as if I didn’t exist. Not that I minded.

I’d hoped for their meeting to turn out this way, and I can already tell Piper’s taken a liking to Shay–not an easy feat considering how protective my sister is of me. What’s been surprising is how fast Shay let her guard down, though Piper’s always had a way of getting even the most guarded people to loosen up.

“My three best friends and I own a luxury men’s salon in the East Bay,” my sister declares, leaning in with her boundless enthusiasm. She’s the most energetic and tireless person I know, and that’s saying something given my high-energy career. Mom and I used to joke that she must have been born with additional batteries. “It’s a lot of work, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Shay’s eyes widen. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a luxury men’s salon. That’s really cool. What makes it different from a normal salon, aside from the fact that it’s tailored for men?”

Piper pulls out her phone, showing Shay pictures of the salon. “Well, anyone is welcome–men or women–but we provide specific services for men, like facial grooming, back and chest waxing, shoe polishing, so on and so forth. We always have sports playing on the TVs, offer beer or soft drinks to every customer, and just generally make it more of an experience rather than a place where someone comes for a haircut.”

Shay looks at her with awe. “That’s incredible, Piper. I’d love to see it one day.”

“You’re welcome anytime!” Piper turns to me. “I tell Rowan the same thing. I mean, he’s the reason I was even able to make the investment and become a true partner. He paid for–”

“Piper,” I warn, trying to shut her up. “No one needs to know how the financials worked out. Stop giving unnecessary information.”

Piper crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes, they do, and it’s not unnecessary information. You’re the reason I have a business.” She ignores my glare, speaking to Shay, “The man sitting next to you? He’d literally give the shirt off his back to help his friends and family. In fact, our friend Zach, who’s the owner of this restaurant, was about to shut this place down a few years ago because he had some unexpected expenses come up and couldn’t afford his lease–”

“Jesus, Piper.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can we just figure out what to order–”

“You hush and stop interrupting me,” my sister snaps, before rolling her eyes exasperatedly and continuing her unnecessary account of shit no one is asking about. “Well, Rowan paid for all those expenses so Zach could keep the restaurant open.”

“It’s true.” To my horror and embarrassment, my buddy Zach materializes from nowhere at our table, placing our drinks in front of us. He already knew what my sister and I would order–our regular drinks when we’re here, their Mexican mule–but he places the special drink I’d asked for in front of Shay. “There’s no way I would have been able to keep this place open if it wasn’t for Slick.” He looks at me with complete sincerity. “I owe you big time, brother.”

“You don’t owe me shit.” I quickly change the subject, introducing him to Shay. But since I don’t really know how to label our relationship in front of Zach, I end up calling her my “friend” but hating the word on my tongue. “How’s the family doing?”

Zach’s face lights up. “Macie just turned fifteen, but she acts like she’s twenty-five; Braxton is nine and as sweet as can be. He still uses those skates you sent him for his birthday.”

“Shay has a nine-year-old son, too,” I tell him, feeling Shay’s hands tighten on mine. I look at her when I speak. “He’s cool as shit, just like his mom.”

Zach points to the drink in front of Shay. “That right there is a handcrafted cranberry vodka and club soda with a hint of lime, ginger, and mint. You’ll be happy to know that all the ingredients in it are organic, with only natural sugars and no artificial flavoring.”

Shay looks at me for an explanation since she hadn’t ordered a drink. “Did you put him up to this?”

I shrug. “You don’t have to drink it. I just figured I’d have Zach modify one of his popular bar drinks with ingredients you wouldn’t have to worry about.”

A soft look transforms her features, and she brings the drink to her lips. “Thank you. That was . . .” her brows pinch together, “really thoughtful, Rowan.”

“You see my point?” Piper says to Shay as soon as Zach leaves. “My brother is a caretaker through and through.”

“As if you aren’t?” I punt back. “How many times have you dropped everything to come to my games? And when all that shit happened five years ago . . .?”

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