Page 127 of Playing for the Hat Trick
Then something wrecks across his face—raw, beautiful, devastating—and he yanks me to him with a growl that rips out of his chest.
His mouth crashes into mine, hard and claiming and so full of everything he can’t say yet that it knocks every thought straight out of my head. His hands roam frantically, sliding up my back, threading into my hair, gripping like he’s never letting me go again.
I kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring every shattered, soaring, terrified beat of my heart into him, into this.
Into us.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Scottie
How to Survive the Crawfords
The second Jason and I step through the front doors of my dads’ house in Water Mill, the familiar scent of woodsmoke, marinara sauce, and fresh-baked cookies slams into me so hard I almost stumble. It smells like childhood, holidays, and safety—like home.
“Fuck, I forgot how big this property is,” Jason mutters, glancing around like he’s preparing for a survival mission. “They’re going to kill me. No one will find my body. Probably not until your great-grandkids start digging for treasure and hit a random bone. ‘Poor bastard,’ they’ll say. ‘Should’ve run faster.’”
I laugh, bumping my shoulder against his. “Oh, poor baby. Scared of the big bad Crawford brothers? Relax. I won’t let them touch you. They’re afraid of me.”
Jason gives me a look that says he’s not entirely convinced but will fake it for survival points.
The giant entryway hums with life—someone shouting from the kitchen, the low rumble of the game on TV, Sarah barking her head off as she skitters across the slate floors after God knows what. Jason squeezes my hand once, quick and hard. I squeeze back just as hard, grounding us both.
We barely make it two steps before Leif’s voice booms across the living room, where half my brothers are already sprawled across couches and chairs, beers in hand, looking like they belong on the cover of some rugged family dynasty ad campaign.
“Well, well, well,” Leif drawls, flashing a shit-eating grin. “Look who decided to join the family again.”
“And she brought a plus one,” Killion pipes up, raising his beer like a salute. “Bold move.”
“Poor bastard,” Kade mutters, shaking his head with mock sympathy.
Jason just grins, unbothered, and tucks me a little closer under his arm, like he’s daring any of them to try to pry me away.
“Your fathers invited me,” he fires back, voice dry as hell. “Blame them.”
“Behave,” I warn them, shooting my best don’t-push-your-luck glare.
“Only because Dad said we had to be civilized,” Lucian says from an armchair, where Olivia is curled against him, lookingunfairly cozy and smug. Sarah immediately abandons her post by their feet and trots over to Jason, thoroughly sniffing his sneakers as if she’s deciding if he’s worth sharing her house with.
Papa and Dad are perched on the edge of the kitchen island, each with a glass of wine in hand. Dad lifts his glass in a silent toast, his smile small but real. Papa beams so brightly that something deep inside my chest unlocks.
“About time,” Papa says, voice warm and teasing enough to make Jason chuckle under his breath.
“Come eat,” Valentina calls from the dining room, where pizza boxes, wings, and giant bowls of chips cover the farmhouse table like a feast fit for a small army. “Before Sarah eats it all.”
Sarah wags her tail like she absolutely understands the assignment and immediately tries to nose into a pizza box.
“Oh, no, baby girl,” Lucian claps his hands. “You’re not eating any human food.”
She huffs at him and heads back to Olivia.
Jason leans closer, mouth brushing the shell of my ear, voice low and full of that cocky grin he wears too damn well. “Think they’ll still like me after I steal you?”
I smile up at him, heart too full, stomach already hurting from laughing too much.
“They never stood a chance.”
“You two, stop standing so close,” Leif protests. “We should send him out to the barnyard with Sarah.”
