Page 62 of No Rhyme or Roughing
“You have the day off today.” I kissed him once more. “Which means we have some work to do.”
As I scooted out of the bed, he sighed.
“That’s not what a day off is.”
“If we’re going to turn you into an internet sensation and save the team, you’ve got a long way to go.” I dug in my bag for a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. “I’ll distract the guys so you can get dressed and escape the room.”
Once dressed, I ran my hands through my ratty hair, flattening it as best I could before pulling it into a low ponytail. It would have to do. Flashing Ryder one final smile, I slipped from the room and into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
When I made it downstairs, the kitchen smelled glorious. Rowan stood at the stove, flipping turkey bacon in a skillet. Eggs and toast were already piled on a plate. I snagged a piece of toast. “Good morning.”
He gave me a bright smile, but something hit my back. I turned to find another piece of toast on the ground and Teddy glaring at me from the dinette.
“Shut up,” he grumbled. “It is not a good morning. Can you just be quiet for once in your life?”
I grinned at how rough he looked. The night beforeat Sullivan’s felt like a distant dream, eclipsed by everything that had happened afterward.
Rowan snorted. “Says the guy who was practically yelling through the house this morning.” He ducked as a piece of toast flew at him. I caught it midair and took a bite.
“Something wrong, brother dearest?”
He glared.
“Rough night?” I had no sympathy when he did this to himself.
“He drank too much wine last night,” Rowan said with a chuckle, probably unaware of the real reason behind all the wine.
Teddy normally hated wine because of how it made him feel the next day.
“Oof, Ted.” I clicked my tongue. He never knew when to quit.
A yip came from near my ankles, and I bent to pick Guardian up. He’d been the favorite at Thanksgiving dinner, I was sure, especially with everything else in such a mess.
Teddy growled. “Mom and Dad were both there.” He pressed his forehead to his folded arms. “The wine was much needed.”
I wanted to point out whose fault that had been, but I couldn’t kick him when he was down. Teddy was an optimist. Anything bad that happened was only temporary in his eyes, and everything would eventually work out.
I approached him carefully, holding Guardian out like a peace offering. Over the past few days, we’d learned none of us could resist this little furball. “It’s okay. Underperformance happens to us all.”
Teddy took him, cradling him against his chest as Guardian squirmed and nipped at his arm.
Rowan carried a plate of bacon to the table. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Teddy fed a piece to Guardian like we couldn’t see him.
Rowan turned to me, lowering his voice. “He’s just mad because he hit on Coach last night, according to Sullivan.”
Ryder’s laugh rang out as he entered the kitchen. “Griff showed up to Sullie’s after I left?”
Another piece of toast hit the wall near his head.
“It was Holloway, asshole.”
Ryder winced. “That’s probably worse. You’re lucky we don’t have practice today, or Frankie would kill you with a bag skate. Probably the rest of us too.” He walked forward to snag a piece of bacon, leaning in close to me. “Morning, Syd.” His minty breath was warm on my face. “Sleep well?”
I wanted to kiss him or punch him—I hadn’t decided which—so I settled for a shrug. “Not really. I was distracted.”
Teddy smirked up at us. “I was too. That’s why I drank so much. I don’t know where you two disappeared to when we started the game. Sullivan and I watched Ryder’s little video on repeat, and if you laughed, you did a shot.”
