Page 38 of Puck Love

“Do what? Organize a ‘not coffee’ date in an hour and agree to playchaperone?”

I pause, and search his gaze. “Youwhat?”

“We’re meeting Sadie in Banff. Mrs. Clark didn’t want me to have to deal with the crowds, so she’s going to do some shopping in town while we all go to have not-coffee.”

My mouth falls open. “Oh.”

“Yes!” Emmett fist bumps the sky and does a booty-shakingdance.

“Em, don’t try anything funny,” Van warns. “Stella and I are going to be with you at alltimes.”

“Thanks, Brother.” He gives Van a slap on the arm. It looks like it hurts, but the man in question doesn’t say anything. The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile,though.

“Get outta here before I change mymind.”

Emmett hits the staircase at full tilt and disappears, and I’m left staring at his older sibling. There’s a wistful smile on his face, and a hint of sadness in those bright blue eyes. “Well, don’t just stand there, country. Go get dressed. We don’t wanna belate.”

I turn away, wondering what the hell a celebrity wears to a not-coffee date when she’s trying to go unnoticed, but the ache in my chest keeps me from moving up the stairs. When I glance back at Van, he’s watching me closely. “I’m sorry I yelled atyou.”

He shrugs his good shoulder. “It’s okay; I deserved it. I guess I’m not really ready for him to growup.”

“He’s twenty-one, Van. He’s already grownup.”

“I know, but this opens a whole new door I’m not sure any of us are readyfor.”

“Come on, you can take on the Senators in the Stanley Cup, but you can’t deal with the idea of your brother having a girlfriend?” I give him a look that says, “Don’t be a damn baby.” Van shakes his head as he passes. “It’s not the worst thing. To fall in love, Imean.”

“I know, country.” He climbs the stairs and doesn’t look back. “Iknow.”

An hour later, I’m bundledup head to toe, and I have one of Van’s huge cable-knit scarves wrapped around my neck so only a small amount of my face peeks through from beneath it and the knit cap covering my head, or, as Van would call it—a tuque. I’m wearing the glasses again, because I like the reaction I get from the hockey hottie when I put themon.

Van, too, wears a tuque, but he doesn’t bother with the rest of the disguise, and I guess it’s because while he may not live in Banff, he lives just outside it, and he’s at home here. The barista at the coffee shop seems to be on friendly terms with him, and they embrace in one of those guy handshake-hugs that I never really understood. Van introduces him as Blake. He has this cute surfer vibe going on, and he’s Australian, which is weird, but Van had mentioned half-naked Aussies taking over the ski slopes here as if it were a frat party, so I guess it’s not too much of a stretch to see one of them working as a barista. Blake holds his fist out, and Emmett bumps it with hisown.

After we order, we sit near the windows and take in the view. Banff is gorgeous. Cold, but so beautiful with the street lit up against the grey day, and the pristine snow on the mountain behind the town. There are boutiques, tea shops, and a surprising number of restaurants for such a small community. A few minutes into our not coffee date, Emmett gets up and takes a seat at a table nearby. I grin at Van, but I’m only met withnonchalance.

Blake brings our orders over when they’re ready, and I lift one of the warm choc-chip cookies from the plate and take a bite. Several long minutes later, Sadie and her mother walk in. I still have the scarf firmly wrapped around my face, and even though it’s really warm in the coffee shop with a steaming cup of white cocoa in my hands and the fireplace roaring nearby, I keep bundled up because I’m terrified of being spotted. Van stands to greet them and Emmett does, too, but I remain seated and give them both a smile and a little wave. I’m afraid to engage any more than that. I know how quickly these things snowball, and it only takes one person to tell a friend that they’ve seen you, and suddenly there are paparazzi everywhere. I should have stayed at the house, but I had to see this. Also, Van and Emmett can be idiots sometimes, and I didn’t want Sadie to feeloverwhelmed.

After a quick chat, Mrs. Clark hurries off with Van’s assurance that we’ll take good care of her only daughter. Emmett and Sadie walk towards the counter, and I sip my cocoa and use the mug to warm my hands. I notice Van’s eyes glued to his brother, so I whack him in the arm. It hurts. I suspect it hurts me more than him, because the man is apparently made from steel and other . . .hard. . .things.

I stand, collect my drink and cookie, and head to a sofa at the back of the room, closer to the fireplace. Van watches me with a confused expression, but it isn’t long before he follows. “Stop watching him like a hawk,” I say when he sits down, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Sadie throws several nervous glances ourway.

“I’mnot.”

“Yes, yes you are,” I complain. “You’re intimidatingthem.”

“I’m just being cautious.” His gaze slides back to Emmett and hisdate.

“No, you’re beingclueless.”

He frowns at me. “Clueless?”

“You know, it isn’t the worst thing for him to grow up and have a life of hisown.”

Van scoffs and waves that away with a lazy hand gesture. “I am notclueless.”

“Whatever, hockey hero. You just keep telling yourself that.” I roll my eyes and sip my cocoa, and for a while we’re both quiet as we watch the snow fall outside thewindow.

Sometime later, when the warmth from the fire and the coziness of the plush couch are lulling my anxiety about being discovered into a deep sleep, Van leans in and murmurs, “I wasn’t clueless about thatkiss.”

“Shut up,Van.”

“I’m not clueless about you wanting me either.” He grins, and when I don’t say anything to contradict him, the smarmy bastard nods. “That’s what I thought. You won this round, country, but I’m just warming up, and you’re gonna regret taking me on as youropponent.”

“Whatever, Ross. I could take you in mysleep.”

“I bet you could.” His smile is so wide that the flash of teeth is blinding. “I bet you could take itall.”

“Oh my god!” I throw the rest of my cookie at him. He picks it up from his lap and makes a big show of licking it slowly all over before taking a bite. I squeeze my thighs together and swallow hard. I have never before been jealous of baked goods, but with the way he closes his eyes and lets out a low lascivious moan, by god, do I wish I were that cookie rightnow.

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