Page 2 of Pucking Revenge

Because more often than not, he can be found sitting with me, watching girlie rom-coms and making me smile.

“I can feel you watching me,” he murmurs without dragging his focus away from Andie Anderson. On screen, she’s walking up the steps wearing a yellow dress, giving Benjamin Barry a flirty smile.

With a grin, I throw a piece of popcorn at him. “You have such a crush on her. If she were single, you’d totally hit that, wouldn’t you?”

Brooks coughs out a laugh. “Hit that? What are we, fifteen?”

A burst of joy rushes through me. “I mean, we can’t all be old and distinguished like you.”

He dips his chin and cocks a brow. “I’m only three years older than you.”

“We’re in completely different decades! You’re in your thirties.” I shiver dramatically. “Ew!”

“That’s it.” He launches himself at me, taking me down to the floor. Before I have a chance to escape, he digs his fingers into my sides, where he knows I’m ticklish.

I kick and squirm and try to fight back, but it’s no use. The man is a six-five, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound beast. I don’t stand a chance of stopping him.

I close my eyes and take the dead fish approach, letting my arms and legs go limp. It’s a technique I always used with my brother. It never failed to make him laugh, and apparently it’s just confusing enough to cause Brooks to pause.

“Sar?”

Rather than reply, I hold my breath and remain perfectly still.

“Oh fuck. Did I hurt you? Shit, shit, shit.” He pushes off me, then he presses his fingers to my pulse point.

Unable to hold it in anymore, I burst out laughing.

“Asshole,” he grumbles.

I open my eyes just as he’s wiping a palm down his face and letting out a long breath.

“Aw, don’t be mad at me, Brookie.”

He scowls, rights himself, and leans back against the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at his ankles. He’s not a fan of that nickname. “Bet ya Kate would appreciate me,” he grumbles.

“Thought her name was Andie,” I taunt.

He shakes his head and cups his mouth with a hand to hide his laughter, but his eyes dance over that meaty paw. His hands are so freaking big and strong. Really, everything about him is.

I settle on the floor beside him again and snag a handful of popcorn. “You know, Lennox is single.”

He eyes me without turning his head. “And?”

“You’re single,” I sing, tossing a piece of popcorn into my mouth.

“Ah, stop the presses. It’s breaking news,” he teases, his lips lifting adorably on one side.

“Come on. Don’t you want that? Don’t you see how happy your brother is now that he has a wife?”

Brooks’s brother Beckett married my boss last year. I never thought I’d see the day when the grumpy guy would finally smile, but now that Liv is wearing his ring, he’s genuinely happy all the time.

He dips his chin and picks at an invisible speck on his sweatpants. “Liv is special. Of course Beckett’s happy.”

“And Lennox isn’t special? You got a problem with my best friend?”

Beside me, Brooks tenses. “No. It’s just…” He sighs. “She’s not who I’m interested in.”

Oh. Things just got interesting. Even during the offseason, I never saw him with a woman. It’s common knowledge that he doesn’t date during the season, but from what I can tell, he doesn’t date period.

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