Page 64 of Accidentally Checked By My Brother's Best Friend

His brown hair is tousled and he’s wearing a Wolverines sweatshirt that clings to every one of his muscles, making his shoulders look ridiculously broad, with a pair of black sweats.

When my gaze slides back to his face, his green eyes are dancing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The temperature in the room must have increased ten degrees since he’s been standing here, and I’m pretty sure my face is an alarming shade of red. The air feels like it’s being sucked out of the space.

Reaching up I run my hand down my loose hair and let out a slow, shaky breath. “Why don’t you keep the coffee in the freezer?”

His brow quirks and the corner of his lip lifts. “What?”

“Your coffee can was in the fridge. Why don’t you keep it in the freezer?” The smile on his face expands and I feel ridiculous for even bringing this up, but it was the only thing I could think of with him looking like that.

“Does it make a difference?” His voice dips as he starts to make his way over to me, and gently pushes my hair behind my ear, sending tingles down my spine.

Doing my best to pretend that every ounce of my body isn’t firing on all cylinders, I answer his question. “Well, the freezer is said to help extend the shelf life, whereas the fridge doesn’t.”

“Is that so?” He says gruffly, his chest rumbling as his gaze drops to my lips. My heart starts to thrum its way around my body. “The only person who drinks coffee when they come over is David. I’ll have to make sure to ask him.”

“Well, as we saw, he keeps his in the cabinet. So…” Duncan’s grin spans his face and he throws his head back and laughs.

A silly little grin creeps along my face in response, and when his gaze finds mine, there is a tenderness in them that makes my breath hitch.

“How did you sleep?” He leans his hand on the counter next to my waist, surrounding me with that cedar-y scent of goodness that is distinctly Duncan.

Lifting my hand I rest it gently on his chest. “Your couch is surprisingly comfortable,” I murmur, holding his gaze with mine.

“It’s not too bad, I guess.” His eyes crinkle at the corner. “I enjoyed the company.”

“The company was very nice,” I say, smiling shyly. Under my hand I can feel his heart pounding like a drum. Knowing I have the same effect on him as he does on me has my heart bouncing around my chest. “Were you comfortable?”

He rolls his neck before saying, “I think the coffee is done.” My brows shoot up and I tilt my head. “The coffee.” He steps away from me and moves toward the coffee maker.

Oh yeah, the reason I’m in the kitchen in the first place.

I watch him as he grabs one of the mugs and starts pouring. “How do you like it? Sugar, cream?”

A smirk lines my lips as I watch him. “Yes, please.”

He moves to the cabinet and pulls out the sugar bowl, while I head to the fridge and grab the creamer. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

“I’m not a huge fan of the taste, but even if I were I definitely wouldn’t drink it on game day—way too dehydrating.” Grabbing a spoon from the drawer and holding the top of the sugar bowl open, he asks. “How much sugar do you like?”

A goofy grin creeps on my face. His eyebrows narrow slightly, and a self-conscious lopsided smile crawls on his lips. I pour a bit of creamer in my coffee before responding. “Half a spoonful. And you’re kind of adorable.”

Placing the carafe back on the hot plate, I turn to my mug, and mix the creamer and sugar with the spoon Duncan left for me.

I can feel his eyes still on me and I lift my mug to my lips. “What?” I ask right before taking a sip, glancing in his direction.

“Nothing.” The glint in his eye tells me there’s something he’s not saying. “Are you going to my game today?”

“Of course!” I smile as he walks over to the fridge and pulls out what looks like three dozen eggs. “Scarlett tells me you’re playing the Panthers for the first time since you were traded. She keeps saying it will be a ‘big game’. She’s excited.”

“Are you hungry?” He asks, holding up the frying pan before turning on the burner and putting it on the stove. “I need to get some protein in.”

“I’m good.” Leaning against the counter, I watch him as he deftly mixes a dozen eggs in a bowl before pouring them in the pan. “Are thoseallfor you?”

“Have to make sure I get all the protein I need.” He turns and looks at me with a mischievous grin on his face. “But this isn’t the half of it. I’ll make a smoothie in a little bit, and then I’ll eat something else about an hour before the game.”

My eyes widen and his smile broadens. “Hockey players burn a ton of calories during a game, and we need to worry about muscle repair afterward.”

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