Page 95 of Hard to Judge

“You didn’t know,” I remind. He tries to move his lips, but I don’t let him. “I’m glad Arlo was here with you, doing whathe couldn’t for too long. It makes this even more special,” I say, finally pulling my hands from his mouth and pointing toward my side.

“Her most meaningful tattoos, she got for herself by herself,” Arlo adds.

“Up,” I order.

Hota presses a kiss between the valley of my breasts, through my clothes, and then stands. Arlo pulls us into his chest, careful not to grab my ribs. His lips graze my forehead, and then Hota’s jaw.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold.” He steps back and takes my coat while Hota finally closes the door and locks it.

There’s a chill in the air I didn’t expect in here. I shiver and rub my arms. “Is it cold in here, or am I anemic?”

Both the men burst at the seams. Their laughter fills the corridor, chasing away the cold.

“What?” I smile.

Arlo puts his arm around me, pulling me down the hall, while he smiles over his shoulder at Hota. “I might have brought him out onto the balcony to show his neighbors who he belongs to.”

“He left the door open,” Hota grumbles. The twinkle in his eyes and the smile on his lips says he doesn’t actually care if the door stayed open forever, so long as Arlo was the cause of it.

“Maybe I should take him on the balcony too.” I wink at him over my shoulder.

“Dessert,” Arlo purrs.

“When can we go?” Sunshine’s eyes are as wide as her smile, blinging around my kitchen. Her presence makes the place warmer than it’s ever been.

“You like hockey?” I say, scrubbing the last of the dishes used to create Arlo’s master chef meal.

“No.” Her nose scrunches like I’ve said something vile. Then her smile absolutely explodes across her face. “I love hockey.”

“Really?” Arlo’s head pops up from the cabinet, where he put away the pot and saucepan he dried.

He’s hotter than the fucking stovetop with his shirt off and a pair of my sweats hanging low on his hips. I want to drag them down and suck him off with Hailey’s help.

“Yes.” She pulls her feet under her and props up as though gravity can’t hold her down. “I didn’t know a thing about it until Nat started dating a few hockey players when I was younger. They’d try to get in her good graces any time I visited by giving us front-row tickets. Nat wanted nothing to do with it after the first game, but by then, I was hooked.”

Her smile dims, and her gaze goes far off for a moment.

I turn off the water and dry my hands. “What is it?”

She grins at me. “I was nine. It was the year the Rangers made it to the Stanley Cup playoffs. I stayed with Nat because my parents were going through a rough patch. It was before my blood aversion took hold.”

Her wink is unexpected. It makes my cheeks go hot.

Me?

Yes, me.

“It was only supposed to be for a week, but I ended up staying for months. They pulled me out of school and did whatever kind of workaround chronically sick kids do. I still don’t know how they managed it.”

Her smile is gone now. She blows a heavy breath that shakes her cheeks, then looks at me. The edges of her smile return.

And the warmth in my cheeks moves to my chest.

“Those guys skated like they had wings. The game's tempo made it impossible to look anywhere but at the puck. It sucked me in and gave me something else to think about.”

“Then it’s settled.” Arlo rounds the counter and scoops her into his arms. “We’re going.”

“When?” she squeals as he tosses her over his shoulder.

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