Page 82 of Gross Misconduct

“It was fun. You’re good with them.”

“They’re good kids. It makes it easy. It’s fun seeing the world from their point of view for a time.”

“They keep me young,” I say, a generic line I heard many a parent say.

Jack takes a step closer. My breath hitches in my lungs. I feel behind me for the doorknob and open the front door.

“Well, thanks for…” I start.

“Yeah. I guess you’re not the miserable asshole I assumed,” he says.

“And maybe you’re not the cocky piece of shit I thought.”

“Oh, I am. I mean, I think your girls liked me better than you.”

My face drops, ready to call bullshit. Jack breaks into a laugh.

“Kidding. It never gets old watching you make that face, Griffin.”

“Fuck off, Ringer.”

He steps forward, stretches out his arms, a signal that he’s about to hug me. I jab a hand forward that almost stabs him in the stomach. He looks down, and without hinting at any confusion, he gives it a nice, hard shake.

“I’ll see you on the ice,” I say.

“Likewise.” He turns to go fast and shuts the door behind him.

I exhale a massive breath and lean against the closed front door. That was close. A tsunami of relief floods me. Awkwardness averted. But just as quickly, regret and anger course over me. The regret burns like tequila down my throat.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself.

In the quiet of the house, I hear footsteps outside. Climbing my front stoop. Then a knock at the door.

I shut my brain off before it can chime in with thoughts.

When I open the door, I don’t think, I don’t hesitate. I pull Jack into my arms and plant a heated but soft kiss on his lips. One that he doesn’t fight. His body melts into my arms. Strong and sinewy, it’s everything I feared and dreamed of and wanted. It’s better than all the times we hooked up because I get to savor it. The way my arm curls around his side, the curve where his hips meet his ass. The slightly chapped feel of his lips.

Jack moans against my lips. He dips back, cold air between us. And then he reaches past me and grabs his coat off the coat rack.

He holds it up. “I forgot my coat.”

Fuck.

He slips it on one arm at a time and folds down the collar. He checks himself in the front mirror that my wife made me put up. She says people need to have a front mirror to check themselves before leaving the house. It also comes in handy when you need an extra angle for witnessing your mortification.

“Took you long enough.” That signature smirk slides onto his face, only this time his lips are redder. Swollen. “I knew you’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Oh yeah, you did.” He shoots me a wink. “You think you’re stone-faced, but you’re actually very readable.”

“You know what?—”

Jack puts two fingers to my lips. “Don’t worry. So did I.”

He pulls me against him and continues where we left off. It’s like the music gets raised again, and the party can continue.

Right away, I can tell this kiss is different. There’s no rushing. No urgency to get to the next step. We could stand in this doorway making out all night, and I’d be happy with that.

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