Page 77 of Pucking Your Best Friend

He knew the feeling wasn’t going to fade. He had lied to himself too many times over the last few weeks to believe himself anymore.

That didn’t mean he knew what to do about it, though. He didn’t want anything to change, but it was too late for that because somethinghadchanged. They couldn’t undo it. Maddie was no longer the woman he talked to about his amorous escapades. Shewashis amorous escapade, even if that word didn’t do her justice. So…

“What do you want to do?”

He winced and turned. Had Nell been speaking to him the entire time? “What?” he asked, confused.

“What do you want to do about Simon’s birthday present?”

Right. She was talking about his brother-in-law’s gift. About Cassidy’s husband. “Give you money and ask you to write my name on the card, like we always do?”

Nell sighed and nodded. “Okay. I guess I forge your signature all the time, once more’s not going to hurt.”

“I know you used to auction off ‘signed’ pucks on eBay.”

“Well, financing a wedding was expensive.”

“I wanted to pay for it outright!” he said incredulously.

She grinned. “And you did. In a way. It just felt better to earn the money myself.”

He snorted. “Forgery is a crime.”

“A puck is not a document. And, hey, the signature looks real. You can’t ask for more than that, can you?”

Shaking his head, albeit with a grin, he looked at her while Johnny Cash sang about a ring of fire in the background. “You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still the big, annoying sister who knows everything.”

“Oh, it will always be that way,” she assured him. “Ask Harriet. I know everything, so why should I hold back my opinion?” She nodded toward the dance floor where her wife was dancing with their father. The formal part of the celebration was over. The sun had set and several strings of lights illuminated the gazebos, where most of the crowd was dancing to stay warm against the approaching evening chill.

Not Maddie. She drank against the cold, red wine that had turned her cheeks pink as she spoke animatedly to a man with glasses who was staring at her with such fascination that she might as well be the Stanley Cup. Matt understood that. Maddiewasfascinating, but did the guy have to be so obvious about his interest? It was irritating.

“So, Matty. How are you?”

He blinked and pulled his gaze away from Maddie. “Mm?”

“How are you?”

“Oh, good,” he replied lightly.

“Yeah, I’m going to need more info than the categoricalgood. I’m not your sports psychologist, I’m your favorite sister. You can talk openly with me.”

Sighing, he turned his beer bottle in his hands. It was non-alcoholic; he was in training. “I don’t have a favorite sister. And,I don’t know, not much has changed since we last saw each other,” he lied.

“So, you haven’t gotten tired of hitting a puck yet? Your bromance with Dax, your platonic relationship with Maddie, or your quiet life?”

He lowered his gaze and then it automatically flicked back to Maddie. Was her hand on that dingleberry’s arm?

“Matt!” Nell snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“What?”

“Oh, good God. I asked if…”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “No, I’m not tired of it. Dax and I are fine. And yes, Maddie is my…my platonic…” Wait, was that guy brushing the hair off her cheek?! Maddie had her own damn hands! “Damn, who’s that guy, Nell?” he said tersely through his teeth and pointed to the empty buffet where Maddie and the clown were standing.

Nell raised one corner of her mouth knowingly. “Who? The man next to your platonic Maddie?” she asked innocently.

…Too innocently. Matt eyed his sister darkly. “Whois he and what have you been doing?”

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