Page 26 of Not the Puck Bunny

“You don't need to wait on me,” she said, taking a plate and beer from my hands.

I shrugged and went back for mine. “My mom raised me to be polite and self-sufficient.” I sat back down. “She's the kind of woman who won't let a kid, son or daughter, leave home without knowing how to cook and do laundry.”

“You can do laundry?” Andi looked playfully skeptical.

“Sometimes I even remember to separate the whites from everything else,” I said. “I can even fold socks so they don't get lost from each other.”

“Impressive,” she remarked. Her eyes shone like she was lightly teasing. Of course she was, anyone could fold socks.

On the other hand, tell my teammates that. Some of them wouldn't know how to pick up dirty socks, much less fold clean ones.

“Almost as good as these spring rolls,” I said. “Try one.”

She eyed me, picked one up and slid one end of it into her mouth. She closed her lips over it and bit down gently.

Her moan of appreciation made my balls tighten.

I swallowed heavily and forced myself to thinkunsexy thoughts, and not picture those gorgeous lips around my cock, enjoying my taste.

“This is so good,” she groaned.

“Yeah, it is,” I said. So was the food. “Like I said, best in the city.” It was also a diet buster, but I'd work out harder tomorrow to make up for it.

“You might be right,” she agreed. “And no celery in any of it.” She shifted her position on the couch as though she was physically uncomfortable, her expression bitter. She dropped her gaze.

“Who likes celery?” I asked carefully.

I didn't think this conversation was about the stringy vegetable. Instead, I got the impression someone in her life tried to make her feel guilty for enjoying food. Or for having curves.

As far as I was concerned, food was there to be enjoyed, and her curves were perfect. Anger flared up inside me, aimed squarely at anyone who dared to make her feel bad about herself.

Didn't she realise she was fucking gorgeous? I had a feeling she had no idea. Whoever it was that judged her made her judge herself.

She looked back up, her expression tinged with a hint of sadness. “I don't know. I don't like the way it gets stuck in my teeth.”

I wanted to take that sadness away from her, but I had no idea why or how.

I managed to tear my eyes away from her, and back to the screen. “This is right where Flynn scored our second goal.”

We skated into our positions, the camera panning across the ice and stopping behind us. I was leaning forward, body tense, eyes ready for the puck to drop.

I glanced over to see Andi, eyes on the screen, head tilted to the side. I looked back at myself, then back at her.

“Are you checking out my ass?” I grinned.

Her face went pink again. “No,” she said quickly. “I'm checking out your stick.” Her eyes widened. “Yourhockeystick. I was looking at the way you were holding it. It's so long it looks…" She shook her head. “I'm just digging myself a bigger hole here, aren't I?”

I grinned bigger. “Not at all. My stick is big and needs to be handled just the right way.”

Her tongue swept over her plump lower lip as her gaze dropped to my groin.

It seemed I wasn't the only one getting that vibe. If I was a gentleman, I'd excuse myself and leave before we got in too deep. But no one could everaccuse Cameron North of being a gentleman, so I hopped up and got us two more beers.

I sat back beside her and watched her watch me skate across the ice, slapping the puck to Flynn who flicked it past the goalie and into the basket.

“I feel like I should cheer,” she remarked.

I raised my beer to her. “Cheers.”

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