Page 13 of These Pucking Boys

He raises a brow. “Why? Do you have young kids at home?”

“No, I’m a middle-school teacher.”

“I remember cursing a lot in middle school.” He smiles broadly, showing a pair of dimples.

My face becomes so hot it could be mistaken for lava. I’m sure my reaction has everything to do with how this gorgeous man is looking at me as if I were something he’d like to eat. Shit. Why did I think that? Now I want him to eat me. My entire body is on fire, and I’m beginning to sweat. This isn’t good.

“Oh, I’m sure my students curse, but I can’t have a dirty mouth around them.”

Fuuuck. Did I just say dirty mouth?

His eyes twinkle with mirth. “I love a girl with a dirty mouth.”

My tongue gets stuck to the roof of my wanting-to-be-dirty mouth while my mind spirals. I don’t know what to do, so I simply stare at him.

Say something, June. Anything.

“I bet you do,” I blurt out.

Not that, you idiot.

He laughs, and the sound is sexy as hell. I don’t need a drink. I need a cold shower.

“Ryan, I see that you found our guest of honor already,” Melissa chimes in.

I’m glad she’s done with her call, because another second chatting with Mr. Sex on a Stick, and I’d have combusted on the spot. Worst of all, I’m sure he wasn’t even trying to flirt with me.

“I sure have. I’m Ryan Bertrand.” He offers me his hand to shake, and like a dumbass, I wipe my sweaty palm on my skirt first.

Classy, June.

“June Summers.”

“Interesting name.”

“If by interesting you mean redundant, you’re right.”

He chuckles. “I like you, June. Where are you from?”

“Baron, Texas. It’s a small town.”

“It must have been quite a shock to move to LA. How long have you been here?”

“A couple years.”

I can’t believe I managed to answer all these questions without putting my foot in my mouth. I’m still nervous, but Ryan is charming and nice, and seems truly interested in getting to know me.

“Ah, then you must have already gotten used to the chaos. Can I get you something to drink?”

I open my mouth to reply, but the other two hot-enough-to-melt-popsicles-in-a-freezer players join us.

“You aren’t getting her anything,” the blond one replies with a Scottish accent. He’s glowering at Ryan, but I’m not getting aggressive vibes from him.

Ryan must not be either, because he seems unbothered by his teammate. “June, meet Lachlan Stewart and Jake Phillips.”

My mind begins to work in overdrive. I don’t want to stare, but it’s hard not to. These men are gorgeous. Before I get tongue-tied, I force the words out of my mouth, praying I can still string sentences together. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meetyou,” Jake replies, looking into my eyes as if he wants to read my mind. What’s with these boys and their stares? “I hope Ryan didn’t bother you too much.”

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