Page 187 of Pucking Strong

The music cuts, and the passenger door opens. Someone pops out the side, standing on the rails. A wolf-whistle cuts over the sound of the roaring engine. “Hey, Karlsson! Hey, Ted! Having fun there, fellas?”

I relax, stifling a laugh. It’s Chris Woodson, Henrik’s teammate.

“Fuck, Woody,” Henrik shouts. “Cut the goddamn headlights.”

“Nah, we’ll head back out,” he calls back with a wave. “Leave you two lovebirds at it. Jake just wanted to make sure you weren’t out here burying bodies or some shit.”

“Wait,we?” I shout. “Who the hell is we?”

“Paulie’s driving,” he calls back as Paulie taps the horn. “And we brought Flash, Bouche, and DeGraw just in case.”

Someone waves out the other window. “Hey, Ted!”

Yep, I think that’s Hunter.

Fucking perfect.

“How did you even know where to find us?” Henrik shouts.

“Phone GPS,” Woody calls back. “Jake has us all linked, remember? You two have fun!”

“Don’t get caught,” one of the guys yells from the back seat. “You know … again!”

Woody slips back into the SUV, and the rock music blasts up again. Paulie whips them around in a tight circle. Then they shootback out onto the beach highway in a crunch of gravel, leaving Henrik and I standing here breathless, mostly naked, and covered in cum.

I give Henrik’s shoulder a squeeze. “Any chance of them ever letting us live this down?”

Henrik shakes his head. “No. Never.”

It only takes a moment before we’re both cracking up, laughing so hard we cry, as we find the rest of my discarded clothes, stumble back into the Porsche, and race away from the scene of our first crime.

“How do you feel?” I ask in Swedish, watching Karolina flex her hand, newly without its purple cast.

“Strange,” she murmurs, rotating her wrist the way the doctor showed her. “My bone isn’t broken anymore?”

“No. Your body healed itself.” I brush a hand down her thick Dutch braid, kissing the top of her head. “You’re so strong, mitt lilla lamm.”

“But not my leg, right?”

“Not yet. But soon.”

“And then I can do ballet again? And go to school?”

“Of course. Mr. Torres says you’re doing wonderfully well with your English lessons. He thinks you’ll be ready for American school in January.”

“And ballet?” Her brow furrows with that serious look of a child determined to have her way. Emma Langley is doing a recital with her ballet school ofSwan Lakethis Christmas. The Langleys invited us to attend. It’s all Karolina has been able to talk about for days.

I nod again, offering her a patient smile. “As soon as your doctor clears you for athletic activity, we’ll enroll you in ballet. Miss Maria is saving a spot for you in Emma’s class.”

“Emma says they do classes for daddies and daughters too. Would you go with me, Morbror? I can show you how to plié. It’s not hard.”

I chuckle. “Of course I will. Can Teddy come too?”

He was supposed to be here with us this morning, but he agreedto help cover for Brady through the end of the week. He should be home by lunchtime. We’re celebrating Karolina’s big milestone tonight with Hanna and Torres. Hot dogs and ice cream at the beach, Karro’s choice.

Her smile falls as she drops her hand to her lap.

“What’s wrong, lamm?”

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