Page 108 of Double Pucked

Ryker grins like a cat. “At last, he gets it. That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

I’ve needed this talk so badly. I want to share her love so much—if she’ll have us and that’s a big if. “So, talk. Since I talked too much last time.”

Ryker’s easy to read this time as he runs a hand through his hair, like that unwinds his tension. “A lot of things pissed me off that night. First, I made this promise to you that I wouldn’t let a woman come between us, and I didn’t. So I let her go, and that damn near killed me. It devastated me to let her walk out. It’s been eating me up inside. But I don’t just want her.” He takes a deep breath, then pushes on. “I want us both to have her.”

Yes! Holy fuck, yes. I can’t erase this stupid grin because I want that too.

“I want us to share her,” I say, my voice full of wild hope. “I want us to love her together. She lights up with both of us. She’s like a flower, and she needs two suns. She needs her two men. She thrives with you and me.”

But Ryker’s smile disappears. “But if I were her, I don’t know that I’d even remotely consider seeing the two of us idiots ever again.”

My heart drops. “We really fucked up, didn’t we?”

“Big time.”

I pace the patio, scrubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “Why the hell didn’t I figure it out sooner?”

“It’s a little complicated,” he says dryly.

I chew on that for a minute. “It is but it’s also not.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because,” I begin, and I strip down my defenses. I let down my guard. “Because she told us she was falling for us when she left, and we let her walk away.”

Ryker practically bolts for the door. “We need to get our girl back. And we need to do it right away.”

“Yes, we do. But we also have to do it the right way,” I say.

Good thing I have some excellent ideas.

42

BOOK BOYFRIEND MOVE

Trina

I say goodbye to Prana, then hand her the victory mug. “Well done. Your bang sense is most excellent.”

She clutches it to her chest. “It’s my top skill.”

The romance lover and nookie prognosticator waves goodbye and heads out of the store. Aubrey sticks around to help me finish cleaning up, then flicks a strand of hair off her shoulder when we’re done. “I have an early blowout. Which always sounds dirty no matter how many times I say it,” she says, breezily.

“I hope you enjoy yourblowout, you dirty girl,” I say, then give her a hug and say goodbye. It’s closing time in a few minutes and the store is mostly empty on a Sunday night.

I make a few laps, straightening books that are sticking out of shelves and realigning them when the bell tinkles at the door.

Pretty sure it’s nine, which is when we close, but if someone wants a book, then dammit, they should still get it.

“Let me know if you need anything,” I call to the customer, glancing over my shoulder to the entryway.

I turn back to the shelves when my brain catches up with my eyes.

Was that…?

“We do.” Two voices. They speak in unison, and the hair on my arms stands on end.

No way. It can’t be them.

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