Page 135 of Mended Hearts

“Why isn’t he here for Christmas?”

I held up my hands. “It’s new. And I never said he was an asshole.”

“But you’ve been hiding him,” Axel observed, his intimidation factor greatly diminished by the furry thing lapping at his face. “Which means either he’s embarrassing or a prick, so which is it?”

“Be nice, boys,” Mom warned, resting her hand on my back.

“Yeah, lay off,” Kaia added, pushing to my side.

“We just wanna make sure she’s taken care of,” Rhyett said again, softly this time.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I grumbled, even as Axel looked at me like I was a puzzle missing half its pieces.

“Come on, Leigh. Who the hell is the father?”

A throat cleared behind us, and everything stopped.

There in the archway, stood Oliver Hart, in slacks and a charcoal sweater.

Fuck me, he was beautiful, my heart stuttering in agreement. God, a smile that breathtaking should be illegal. It was blinding. Even as he sheepishly waved a hand at the room packed full of inquiring Rhodes.

“Uh… that’d be me.”

20

The Naughty List

OLIVER

Axel, Leighton’s middle-brother with the long hair, cleared his throat pointedly, his hand frozen on top of what I assumed was the infamous French bulldog. “Well. That’s certainly one way to keep it in the family.”

Kaia stripped the puppy out of his arms, handed it off to Leighton, and landed a punch to his gut in one quick motion.

“What?” He grinned as the rest of them burst out laughing. “We were all thinking it.”

“Facts,” Maverick muttered, but the big idiot beamed and wrapped a lanky arm around my shoulders, pulling me in for a bro-hug and slapping my back. “Congratulations, boss man. I guess we know why you’re on the naughty list this year.”

“Gonna be one good-looking kid,” a curly-haired guy with freckles said with a smile, pulling me in for a quick hug before I could counter Maverick. I think I recognized him from the first game of the season, but everything from that day was a bit of a blur. It was in the eyes though—that telltale blue-gray.

Reaching out my hand, I said, “Oliver Hart. I think we’ve met?”

“The day of the accident,” he filled in. “No worries, man. I’m Finn—number nine.”

“Oh, damn, that’s right. It’s really nice to see you.”

He laughed good-naturedly before patting my back. “Good luck, today.”

He seemed to mean it.

Leighton and I were individually passed from sibling to sibling, although it seemed the grilling was mostly directed toward her, while I was given hellos and congratulations. Nobody threatened my life, but Jameson did grip my hand tight enough to make his feelings known.

Those solemn eyes locked on mine as he growled, “You take care of our girl, understand?”

I’d gone head to head with CEOs that didn’t make me feel like I was going to shit myself half as much as this fisherman did. No wonder Greyson liked him. I had the distinct impression he could make me disappear, and sleep like a baby afterward.

I nodded. “With everything I have,” I vowed.

Like my brother, the idea of a smile seemed to offend the towering tank of a man. But I was almost certain his mouth tipped up, albeit incrementally.

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