Page 149 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
The doors open before I can respond.
Lucian’s dads are exactly what I expected—and somehow still intimidating in wildly different ways.
John Crawford—aka Dad—is tall and broad, boasting a classic ex-football-player build. Handsome, warm eyes. He seems like he could coach your kids and grill you a steak without breaking a sweat.
On the other hand, Papa looks like he owns three bookstores and maybe a vineyard in Tuscany. He’s dressed like he walked off the cover of GQ: Legendary Husband Edition, and his smile could either charm you or disarm you, depending on your mood. Nothing like the famous hockey player Aspen told me about. Not that Aspen knows I’m here.
It was difficult to avoid telling her that I am the one who lives with the famous Luc Crawford.
That I am, in fact, sleeping with him—very much not casually.
That I am the reason his dog now responds to exactly three commands while ignoring all the rest with sass.
That I am wearing his shirt more often than my own.
That I find myself slowly losing my mind over a man who texts me at two with a range of flirty and very dirty texts while checking on his dog.
That I am terrified I might be falling for him, one sarcastic flirt and soft-eyed moment at a time.
“Luc,” Papa beams, arms wide. “You’re late.”
Lucian hugs him as if they haven’t seen each other in weeks, rather than just three days. “We landed two minutes ago.”
“Which is early by his standards,” I say, hoping to find the right balance of friendly and not-trying-too-hard.
Papa steps back just enough to study me. “And this must be . . .”
“Olivia,” I say, offering a hand. “The neighbor . . .”
“Doctor Olivia Halston,” Lucian adds smugly. “She’s the new vet in Birchwood. Her clinic should open soon.”
“I’m just Liv,” I say quickly. “I’m puppysitting Sarah at the moment.”
“She’s being modest,” Lucian says, resting his hand at the small of my back like he owns the place—and perhaps me, too. “Liv’s the reason Sarah didn’t commit a felony against a Maltipoo last week. And the reason I’ve survived the offseason with some shred of sanity since everyone was too busy.”
His dad chuckles as he shakes my hand, his grip warm and firm. “It’s nice to meet you. I heard you might be taming our boy. Is that right?”
Lucian groans. “Okay, we’re not doing the taming bit. I’m not a zoo animal.”
Papa waves us to the massive double doors. “Dinner’s in twenty. Come inside. We’ll get your things brought in. Sit, relax, and tell us everything.”
Lucian grins and winks at me. “You ready?”
No. Absolutely not. But I nod.
Because, for once, I think I might want to be.
Chapter Forty-Two
Lucian: I’ve been betrayed. By blood. By kin. By people I used to trust.
Olivia: Hi to you too! Just watched Sarah try to intimidate a Shetland pony. He sneezed in her direction, and she fell over. I think that’s called justice.
Lucian: She gets that from your side of the family. Meanwhile I’m stuck in the Hunger Games: Crawford Edition.
Olivia: Did the indoor games begin?
Lucian: Began. Exploded. Imploded. Scottie is definitely cheating but no one knows how. There are only so many ways anyone can roll four sixes in a row before the universe calls bullshit.
