Page 26 of Lace 'em Up

The soft curves of her body, the rounded bow of her mouth, the long, thick curl of her lashes, the smell of her hair.

“Oh,” she gasps, slowly stepping by me and moving into the room. “Wow.”

Floor-to-ceiling shelves fill three walls of the space and the fourth is a full wall of windows surrounding a centered French door. Dark cabinets. Light pouring in through all of those windows.

I turn as she does, seeing the huge desk that takes up most of the space. A desk I love because I never feel cramped or crowded. I allow my gaze to run over the shelves filled with books and pictures of my family—a lot of the latter because there are a lot of Bang siblings in the world. Me, the oldest. Then Jakob, Jensen, Leif, Tanner, and I can’t forget Annie, our only sister and the woman who keeps us all on our toes nearly as much as our mom does.

And my mom…

I hold back a sigh.

God, I love that woman, love that I always know she has my back and would kill herself to be there for all of us.

But my mother is recently retired and with an empty nest…she has far too much time on her hands to meddle in my life.

Trying to match me off.

Not knowing—or maybe knowing but not particularly caring that I don’t want that.

The happy ending. The love-filled relationship. The soulmate connection she has with my dad.

That I can’t have it.

You’re not your father.

“You even have a reading chair,” Rory whispers, jarring me out of my thoughts, seeing that she’s completed her revolution of taking in the space and is now looking at me.

I shrug. “I like to read.”

“I didn’t know hockey players had it in them to be scholarly.”

Wow.

I open my mouth, but I don’t get the chance to retort.

Because she’s exhaling through her nose, shaking her head, and holding my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, tone genuinely contrite. “That was bitchy and uncalled for.” A sigh. “I’m not usually mean.”

My mouth hitches up. “Except with me.”

Pink on her cheeks, barely visible with all that makeup. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Really.”

I touch that faint spread of pink. “It’s okay, Princess Pricklesticks,” I say lightly.

“Still,” she mutters. “I’m a jerk.”

“Like I said, Princess of the Prickle, it’s fine.” And then I find myself adding when she rolls her eyes, the words just tumbling off my tongue, “Especially, considering how fucking beautiful you are when you’re annoyed with me.”

She inhales sharply.

Then winces and clamps a hand to her ribs.

“Damn,” I mutter, carefully wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, princess. Come on and sit down.” I guide her over to the desk. “I’ll grab your computer.” I pull the chair back, press her down into it. “Do you need anything else?”

She mutely shakes her head.

And I get the fuck out of the room before I say anything else stupid.

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