Page 28 of Moms of Mayhem
She crossed her arms under her chest, and Jesus—nope, that didn’t help. My gaze snapped to the dashboard as I shifted the truck into gear.
She shifted too, angling toward me. “Where are you going?”
“To park.”
I pulled into the nearest open space—handicap right by the front doors—and threw it in park.
Then, because apparently, I was a glutton for punishment, I reached between her legs to pop open the glove box. My shoulder brushed her thigh, and she sucked in her stomach like it would give us an extra inch of space. Unfortunately, all it did was make both of us painfully aware that if I turned my head just slightly, I’d be face-first in her lap.
I didn’t, but it was a near-death experience for my self-control. Instead, I grabbed the hang tag, sat back up, and clipped it to the mirror.
“Coming, Peach?”
Her blush deepened from irritated pink to a slow, burning crimson, hazel eyes locked on mine like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap me or kiss me.
And holy hell, I was gone.
She scrambled out of the car and stomped up onto the sidewalk, snow catching in her dark ponytail under the streetlights. Her shoulders were hunched against the cold, and I couldn’t stop watching her.
“Why are you even here?” she snapped, waving a handtoward me as I eased out of the truck with one crutch under my arm, the other still in the backseat.
“Shouldn’t you be back in Denver for doctor’s appointments and trainers?” Her eyes dropped pointedly to my hip brace, strapped over my joggers. “And are you even supposed to be down to one crutch crutch yet? Recovery after a labral tear isn’t a joke, Beckett. No way are you cleared.”
I braced a hand on the truck and stepped up onto the curb beside her. “You sure do know a lot about me.”
Then, naturally, my foot slipped on an icy patch.
Emmy moved before I could catch myself, her arm wrapping around my waist, steadying me. My hip flared with pain as I righted myself, and I groaned.
“Are you always this stupid?” she muttered, breath visible in the frigid air.
Her hand landed on the sliver of skin between my hoodie and waistband, and nope, I could not remember a time I’d ever been quite as stupid as this.
“Five-week appointment is tomorrow,” I said, voice lower than I meant it to be. “I didn’t say I was cleared.”
She tilted her face up toward me, snowflakes dusting her lashes. “So, you’re just out here risking re-injury in a snow-covered parking lot, because...?”
I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could say out loud.
She was shivering, still wearing only those painted-on leggings and that tiny, cropped tee. Without thinking, I tucked her into my side and started walking. She stayed close, as if her little frame could keep me upright, and I let her. Everywhere our bodies touched lit up like static, and suddenly, my hip pain didn’t seem quite so important.
We made it inside without another slip, and the second we crossed the threshold, Emmy pulled away like I’d burnedher. Arms crossed tight under her chest, she turned away, giving me zero chance of not staring.
I leaned my crutch against the wall, tugged my hoodie off, and dropped it over her head.
“Wha—”
“You’re freezing,” I said, tugging it down until her face peeked through. The hood framed her flushed cheeks like a damn portrait.
“I left my coat in the car,” she mumbled, sliding her arms into the sleeves. “I got a little distracted when someone stole my parking spot.”
My hoodie swallowed her frame, hanging past her ass, and I turned quickly toward the concession stand before I made another bad decision. “I’ll buy you a pretzel to make up for it.”
Her stomach growled in response.
I grinned and looped an arm around her neck, rubbing my knuckles into her scalp. “Still such a menace.”
“A noogie?” she huffed, batting me away. “Really?”
