Page 43 of From Fling to Ring

Oh God. Does she know something?

No. No way.

“We never use that term. It’s never once been muttered in an Aftershocks locker room or any other gathering. I can assure you.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches to play slap me and boom, falls right on her knee.

Shit.

I hoist her up. “Come on. This is enough for one day.”

“Ow, damn, that hurts,” she says, favoring her injured knee.

“I know. Believe me, I know. Let’s get you an icepack.”

I guide her off the ice and remove her skates. We change into our street shoes, and I help her walk. She’s limping a little, but it doesn’t seem bad.

“The ice is in here,” I say, opening the door to a small closet.

She follows me in and I take a pack from the freezer. I turn to hand it to her and when I do, she’s right there, her face turned up to mine. She runs her fingertips through my beard scruff and pulls me down for a kiss.

The ice pack clatters to the ground and I pull her into my arms. She’s warm thanks to her overkill puffer, but her nose is cold and everything about her is so cute and sexy?—”

“Ew. MOM!”

Some kid has pulled the door open and caught us kissing, and is clearly not impressed.

“MOM, SOME PEOPLE ARE MAKING SEX IN THE CLOSET!”

I grab the ice pack off the ground and realize this is the same kid who got in trouble for trying to chip up the ice. I take Lucy’s hand and we exit the closet, leaving the kid still calling for his mother.

As soon as we hit the rink parking lot, we double over laughing.

“Tyler, we were making sex in the closet!” Lucy snorts.

We stumble into my Escalade before some indignant mom comes after us screaming about our indecent behavior.

Lucy catches her breath. “Where are we going?”

“In-N-Out Burger down in Fisherman’s Wharf.”

She claps her hands like a happy little kid. “Yippee. But I thought you weren’t supposed to eat that stuff all the time.”

I shrug. “I’m not. Will you keep my secret?”

“If you promise to keep bringing me to In-N-Out, I’ll keep your secret forever.”

21

LUCY

Tyler’s front door closes softly, but not softly enough to let me keep sleeping. Still, I have to give the man credit for trying.

He really is a nice guy, and I was so not banking on that. Damn him.

I push the covers off and check the bruise on my knee. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, and when I get out of bed to try walking around, I’m only limping a little.

I haven’t been home in a couple days, so I root through Tyler’s dresser for a shirt to wear to work so I don’t completely look like I’m doing the walk of shame.

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