Page 51 of One Pucking Surprise
“Oh my gosh, Zach,” she whispers, glancing toward the door. “Not here.”
I grin, my hands still on her waist. “You know you liked it.”
Her eyes narrow, but her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “I thought you were going to yell at me.”
“Sorry about Clarissa. I didn’t know she was going to be here today. You can bear with her today, right?”
“It’s fine. I can deal with her.”
“Also, she’s the new head doctor for the team. Is that going to be… a problem for you?”
She blinks, clearly taken aback. “The head doctor? Wow! She moved fast. Okay. But why would that matter to me?”
“Admit it,” I say, leaning in close. “You’d be jealous if I spent all day with Clarissa.”
Lainey rolls her eyes, her cheeks coloring faintly. “Jealous? Please.”
“You sure about that?” I tease.
Lainey rolls her eyes. “Zach, we’re not even in a real relationship. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, unconvinced but amused.
“Remember,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “you were the one who begged for my help to avoid your dad and Clarissa’s whole arranged marriage plan.”
She gives me a smug little smile, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Begged, huh?” I lean closer, my voice dropping. “Pretty sure I just gave you an opportunity to spend more time with me.”
Her brows lift, her smile widening. “Oh, is that what you’re calling it?”
“Absolutely,” I say, grinning. “Worked out for both of us, didn’t it?”
She shakes her head, clearly done with the conversation, but her lips twitch again as if she’s fighting a smile.
“Are you coming to my place tonight?”
She tilts her head, her smile playful. “Depends. What’s for dinner?”
I kiss her softly, murmuring, “You.”
She laughs, pushing my face away gently. “Not funny.”
“Fine,” I say, grinning. “Whatever you want.”
She stares at me for a beat longer, her smile softening. “I’ll be there.”
I release her reluctantly, stepping back. “You staying to help?”
She nods, her expression warm. “I’d love to. Got a spot for me?”
“Always,” I reply, holding the door open as we head back toward the rink. “Come on, we could use a hand at the equipment table.”
Lainey follows me over to one of the folding tables piled high with donated gear—helmets, gloves, sticks, and jerseys in every size imaginable.
“Think you can handle this?” I tease, nudging her lightly with my elbow.
She arches a brow, mock-offended. “I’ll have you know I’m an expert at organization. This is child’s play.”
“Good,” I say with a grin. “Because I’m terrible at it.”
