Page 43 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

"Is that what they teach you at the Temple of Pussy?" she whispers, and I nearly trip over my own feet.

That's another change. My weather girl's got a mouth on her these days. And I fucking love it.

"That's definitely not in the curriculum," I say once I recover. "But I might suggest it at the next board meeting."

The yacht club's white-washed deck stretches before us, dotted with tables under blue and white striped umbrellas. The regatta after-party is in full swing, Charleston's summer social scene on proud display. Women in flowy dresses and men in pastel shorts mingle with the sailing crowd still in their gear. The air smells like saltwater, sunscreen, and money.

I spot my teammates at our reserved section—perks of being Charleston hockey royalty. Ryder waves us over, already three beers deep by the look of his grin. Asher's charming some blonde in a sundress, while Coach Mac stands at the railing overlooking the marina, deep in conversation with one of the club officials.

"There's our favorite weather girl!" Ryder shouts as we approach. "Finally convinced her to move to civilization, huh, Lucky?"

Harmony squeezes my hand, a silent reminder to play nice. Not that I need it. These days, I'm so stupidly happy I can't even fake being annoyed with Ryder's bullshit.

"Actually," Harmony says before I can answer, "the National Weather Service needed someone to upgrade the Doppler system at the Charleston station. I merely pointed out that my thesis on coastal weather patterns made me uniquely qualified."

I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "She's being modest. She basically created a job that didn't exist, then convinced them they couldn't survive without her."

The pride in my voice might be embarrassing if I gave a shit. But I don't. My girl is brilliant, and I want everyone to know it.

"Well, we're glad you're here," Asher says, leaving his blonde to join us. "Dakota's been almost tolerable since you two got together."

"Almost," Ryder agrees, handing us each a beer from the ice bucket.

Harmony leans against me, her back to my chest, and I rest my chin on top of her head. It's still new, this casual intimacy in front of my friends. For years, women were accessories,temporary companions easily replaced. Now there's Harmony, who feels like a vital organ I somehow lived without.

The afternoon sun glints off the sailboats bobbing in the marina. Teams from up and down the coast came for the regatta, but the real action is here on the deck, where deals are made, gossip is exchanged, and summer romances begin and end. It's a Charleston tradition, one I've been part of since I was old enough to sneak beers and flirt with rich girls slumming it with a hockey player.

"So," Harmony says, turning to face me, "when were you going to tell them about the apartment?"

I choke mid-sip. "Way to steal my thunder, Green Eyes."

Ryder perks up. "What apartment? You moving out on us, Lucky?"

"Don't tell me you're getting your own place," Asher groans. "Who's going to cook when you're gone?"

I slip my arm around Harmony's waist. "We signed the lease yesterday. Downtown, near the market. Two-bedroom with a view of the harbor."

"He means I signed the lease," Harmony corrects. "Someone had a game in Nashville."

"But I sent my very enthusiastic approval via text," I add, kissing her temple.

Ryder clutches his chest dramatically. "The brotherhood is dying. First Kaleb moves out, now you."

"Kaleb moved out?" Harmony asks, surprised.

"Last month," Asher confirms. "Got some fancy condo near the practice facility. Solo living. Can't say I blame him—living with you two has been like an auditory pornography experience."

Harmony's cheeks flush that perfect shade of pink that still drives me wild. Her fingers toy with the collar of my polo shirt, and I resist the urge to drag her behind the boathouse right now.

"When's moving day?" Ryder asks. "We should have a rager at the house to send you off properly."

"Next weekend," I say. "And no ragers. We have the charity golf tournament on Monday, remember?"

Asher and Ryder exchange looks.

"Who are you and what have you done with Dakota Miles?" Asher asks.

"Seriously," Ryder agrees. "Next you'll be telling us you're shopping for rings."

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