Page 11 of Pucked and Pregnant

“How about Max and I show you where your room is while the guys start setting the table for dinner?” She glances back over her shoulder at us. “You boys don’t mind, do you?”

Like soldiers deferring to our commanding officer, Connor, Dimitri, and I all look to Max for the answer. If he needs us for support, we’re there no matter what his mom might want.

He clasps his hands in an exaggerated begging gesture and mouths the word “please.”

We can’t get a message any clearer than that so the three of us murmur our assent to Mrs. Winters and head toward the kitchen.

“What the hell was that out there?” Dimitri asks as we’re setting out the plates.

I plop down on one of the dining room chairs and drop my head into my hands. “I have no idea.”

“You choked hard on that one.” Connor agrees.

My head snaps up. “Like the two of you did any better?”

“You’re right.” He sighs. “Seeing her again is…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Look, we were all thrown by seeing her again, but I don’t think this is the best place to be doing this,” Dimitri says.

“Drinks at my place after?” I ask.

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

Eventually the family files into the dining room. Everyone appears to be a little more relaxed, but it’s clear by the lingering air of tension that the peace is tentative.

The guys and I offer to help Mrs. Winters with the dishes she’s carrying over but she shoos us away.

“You boys are sweet but all I have to do is pop all this into the microwave. Go back into the dining room and sit.”

Things relax even more when all the food is on the table and everyone has something to do with their hands and mouths.

Unfortunately for me, though, I’m right across the table from Liv. I can’t keep my eyes off her. I can feel Max’s eyes boring into the side of my head so either I need to look away, or come up with something to say, and quickly.

“How do you feel about working for us after all that talk of how we weren’t the boss of you in high school?” I tease.

She laughs. “Well, actually I work for Pro Rink, not you. I’m just attached to your team. So, technically, you’re still not the boss of me.”

“Max is.”

“He is not.”

“Well, he is older than you.”

“Not you too,” she groans. “Six minutes. He’s only six minutes older than me. That's practically no time at all.”

“I don’t know. I can get an awful lot accomplished in six minutes. Hell, I can charm a woman into going home with me in half that time.”

“Watch it,” Max warns.

“Oh, don’t be such a buzzkill, Max.” Liv rolls her eyes then turns back to me. “That only works because you’re a pro hockey player.”

“That and they don’t know you,” Connor chimes in. Jealousy prickles across the back of my neck when she laughs at his joke.

“Exactly. Anyone who knows you would take a lot more convincing to get them to sit down at the same table as you, much less let you take them home.”

“Like whom?”

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