Page 147 of Offside Angel

We each still have our good days and bad days, but today is a good day.

“I’m sorry.” Taylor wraps her arms around my shoulders, squishing her cheek against mine. “Your superhero party for six-year-olds is the event of the season. Coachella has nothing on this.”

“That’s not a compliment! You hated Coachella. You said it was an ‘overpriced, under-hydrated desert where music goes to die.’”

Taylor cocks her ear towards the patio doors. “What was that? Oh, Daniel is calling for me.”

“I’m officially taking offense!” I shout at her back as she skedaddles onto the patio, but not before blowing me a kiss through the open door.

I slide some dirty dishes into the soapy water in the sink and start trying to make sense of the trash that’s collected on the countertop throughout the day, when another pair of arms slide around my middle. This time, it’s a stubbly cheek against mine, Zane’s voice deep and warm in my ear. “You should be enjoying the party.”

“I am. I love dishes.”

He nips at my neck. “I’ll clean the kitchen later. Come back to the party.”

I spin around in his arms, letting him cage me against the counter. He and Daniel have been golfing a few days every week in the offseason, so his skin is a rich golden brown and his blonde hair is lighter than I’ve ever seen it. I run my fingers through it because I can never seem to stop myself. “Are you trying to seduce me with chores?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t succumb, I’ll take out the trash next.”

“I’m soaking wet.” I dramatically bite my lower lip. “What else?”

“You know that pile of hockey gear in the back corner of my closet?” he teases in a breathy voice. “I’ll organize it.”

I hook a leg around his hip. “Take me now, Prince Charming.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He kisses me, nipping at my lower lip in a way that has heat swirling low in my stomach.

Thankfully, before mistakes can be made, a chorus of party horns echo down the hallway. The partiers stomp through the kitchen and into the backyard. Zane and I follow them through the door, taking up the caboose.

Each boy grabs a slice of pizza as they pass the snack table and then they march for Aiden’s clubhouse underneath the slide.

“Do we need to order more pizza?” Davis shuffles through the pile of empty pizza boxes. “Who knew kids could eat so much?”

“Everyone with a kid,” Jace snorts. “Gallagher eats more than I do some days.”

“We’ve also been here for lunch and dinner.” Rachelle turns to me. “If you need to kick us out, Mira, please do. We’re intruding.”

I wave her off. “We don’t mind. I think the men missed each other.”

The hockey players in question all grumble and deny it, but they’ve been huddled in a circle, chatting and laughing, since the party started seven hours ago.

“It’s true. You all gossip like a bunch of old ladies.” Taylor elbows Daniel in the side.

“Talking about where Carson Deluth got traded is not gossip. It’s business.”

I roll my eyes. “Is it also ‘business’ to cackle like hyenas about how he got traded back East to the worst team in the league?”

“Okay, you got us. That isn’t business,” Daniel says, lifting his chin in defiance. “That, my friends, is karma.”

I can’t argue with that. Not after the way Carson treated me at the award ceremony. Coach Popov put Carson on suspension the day after he attacked me. Apparently, he couldn’t be let go from his contract, but within the month, he was traded for three second-round draft picks.

Zane jokes that Popov would’ve probably accepted a washing machine and an IOU if that’s what it took to get rid of him. He might not be wrong.

The party goes on way too late. Gallagher falls asleep while the boys are playing hide-and-go-seek, so Jace has to crawl under Aiden’s bed and drag him out by his legs. When they leave—a sleeping Gallagher in tow—Reeves and Jemma collect Jalen and decide to call it a night, too. Jemma kisses each of my cheeks and Jalen thanks me for “the best party ever.”

As soon as they’re gone, I nudge Taylor. “Did you hear that? I threw the best party ever. I don’t think the best party ever would be one of the circles of hell, do you?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

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