Page 70 of Pucking Matt
"Absolutely. Go wild."
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me. "You're not helping?"
I glance back, fighting a smile. "Can't. I've got to check the buns for their expiration date."
Instead of checking the buns, I busy myself cleaning tables and chairs, and restocking the customer station. It's a slow day, not a customer in sight.
I'm pretending to inspect the bread when Matt rounds the corner. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"
"No idea what you're talking about," I say, keeping my face neutral.
He grins, leaning against the counter. "What, you don't want to be near me? Is that it?"
I can't help but laugh. "Boss's orders. Now get back to work."
"Are you the boss?" he asks, eyebrow raised.
I stop laughing, shooting him a glare.
His smile widens. "Knew it. I did the cups and containers, but that's it. Since it's dead in here, where's the window scraper?"
"You mean the razor blade?"
"Yeah," he nods. "Got a ridiculous sticker to remove from my truck."
I smirk. "Aw, I was so looking forward to honking at you today."
"Well, in that case, maybe I'll keep it on for one more day. You know, for your honking pleasure."
My smile drops. "Top shelf, all the way to the right."
He grins, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. "I think I'll leave it for just one more day."
"Matthew," I say, my tone a warning.
"Amby," he counters, grinning. His expression shifts, becoming more serious. "So, where is your brother these days?"
I grab the broom, arching an eyebrow. "My brother? What, you need the hookup or something?"
He snorts. "No, nothing like that. The talk from the other night had me thinking about your family, and I’m just wondering how they’re doing."
I shrug, questioning his sudden interest. "Well, like I told you the other night, I don't talk to them much. No idea what my brother's up to. What about your stepbrother? You two still play hockey together, right?"
Matt leans back, running a hand through his hair, his gaze distant. "We're not stepbrothers anymore."
I focus on sweeping, not wanting to meet his eyes.
"Our parents divorced a while back," he continues. "Grey's on my team because of my mom. Those stepbrother days are long gone though."
I frown, thinking about the divorce paperwork I've been handling recently. The timeline doesn't add up. Looks like his mom's keeping secrets.
"I remember all the fights you two used to get into in high school," I say, trying to keep my tone light.
He chuckles, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Yeah. It didn't stop there."
"So, you do believe in violence," I tease, attempting to make light of our complicated history and of what Michelle did the other night. If we can't joke about it, how can we move forward?
"Hey, a few years back, you thought so too." He pushes off the counter, mimicking boxing moves as he approaches me. "What was it you did to me again?"
