Page 5 of Puck Me at Midnight

“Yeah, it’s a Saturday tradition,” I reply, trying to shake off the strange fluttering in my chest. “Pancakes and PJs. Keeps the weekend feeling like, well, the weekend.”

I hand him a plate of pancakes, and his fingers brush mine as he takes it. It’s a brief touch—just a moment—but it sends a jolt of heat up my arm. I pull my hand back quickly, trying to pretend I didn’t notice, but it’s hard. His touch lingers.

“You’ve got enough for an army,” he jokes, settling at the table, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners as he glances at Sam, who is already halfway through his stack, syrup dripping from his chin.

I laugh. “I made extra, just in case.”

Spike takes a bite of the pancakes, a moan escaping from his lips. “Man, I’ve been living off hotel food. This is heaven.”

I sit down across from him, watching the boys while I nibble at my own pancake.

The house feels peaceful for once. The kids are content and will soon quiet down for the night. I can hear the sound of their little voices drifting off as I clean up the table, putting dishes away. They’re telling Spike what we’ve done while he’s been gone. Then, just like that, he’s back, and it’s just us in the kitchen, the quiet stretching between us.

Spike stretches in his chair, his back cracking as he raises his arms above his head. I try not to notice how his muscles shiftunder his shirt, or the small slice of stomach revealed when his shirt lifts.

“Man, I’m so tired, but don’t think I could actually go to sleep yet,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

I look over at him, amusement tugging at my lips. “Don’t you usually crash after a road trip?”

He shrugs, glancing over at me as he leans back in his chair. “I should, but I guess the adrenaline still has a hold on me. I’ve been on the go for days.”

“Must be exhausting,” I say, my eyes on the way his hands run through his hair, trying to shake off the weariness. I want to reach out and, I don’t know, ease it. But I don’t.

He catches my gaze, his eyes lingering just a second too long. “Yeah, it is. What about you? How have the boys been?”

I hesitate for a moment. I know he’s been busy, and he’s been checking in, but hearing him ask about the boys like that makes something warm unfurl in my chest. I have a sudden vision of this being our nightly routine and not because I’m the nanny, but because this is our family. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly aware of the closeness between us.

“They’ve been good,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Sam’s got this new obsession with superheroes, so he’s been running around in a cape half the time. Charlie’s still on a dinosaur kick, though. That dinosaur is helping him feel secure right now. We would be in a lot of trouble if Charlie couldn’t find it.” I chuckle softly, remembering how Charlie insisted on bringing his stuffed dinosaur everywhere, even to the table for breakfast.

Spike smiles, nodding. “That’s good. I’m glad they’re doing all right.”

I then tell him about the not-so-great parts of our week. I tell him about the late-night tantrums Sam had and Charlie’snightmares. He needs to know the whole picture, not just the bright, shiny parts.

“It’s been hard,” I admit, my voice softer now. “They miss their parents more than they know. Sam’s been acting out a bit, and Charlie has been extra clingy.”

Spike doesn’t say anything at first, and I glance up, catching his gaze. His expression is full of grief. He shifts closer in his seat, his body language more open now.”

“I get it,” he says quietly, his voice low and steady. “It’s not easy. You’re doing better than I was. They trust you.”

The words catch me off guard, and I blink, feeling a lump form in my throat. I look away quickly, pretending to wipe something off the table, but I can’t shake the warmth that spreads through me at his words. It’s not just the compliment; it’s the sincerity in his voice. It makes me feel like, for just a second, we’re more than just boss and employee. Like maybe, just maybe, he sees me—seesus—differently.

Before I can say anything else, he stretches again, letting out a soft groan. “I don’t know about you, but I’m way too keyed up to sleep. You wanna watch a movie? Something to wind down a bit?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” I reply, trying to keep my voice casual as I get up to set up the TV. But as I walk past him, I feel the heat of his gaze on me. I try to brush it off, but I can’t.

Spike follows me into the living room and we both settle onto the couch. I press play on a movie, but I don’t pay any attention. The space between us seems to shrink, and as I shift on the couch, his knee brushes against mine.

I tell myself it’s an accident, but the heat that flares between us says otherwise. The touch lingers in the air, silent and electric.

Chapter Five

Spike

The snow had started to fall early this morning, and by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, it was coming down in thick, heavy flakes, piling up on the roads and leaving the world outside covered in a blanket of white. At first, I thought it was just another light dusting—something that I could easily push through—but by late afternoon, the flurries had turned into a real snowstorm. Our team’s New Year’s Eve party was canceled.

I’ve been in the league long enough to know that these events are part of the job—an expected ritual for the team, a way to bond with the guys. But tonight? I can’t find a single ounce of disappointment that the team’s New Year’s Eve bash has been called off.

The moment I hear the cancellation news a sense of relief washes over me. Tonight, I get to stay home. And honestly? I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

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