Page 42 of Thoroughly Pucked

Dev scoffs. “I like cheese.”

“But do you eat it?” Ledger presses.

“Sometimes,” Dev mumbles. “Like on NationalGrilled Cheese Day, and when the team captain takes us out for pizza. So there.”

I give an obvious glance to Ledger, pointing my thumb at Dev. “We should take him out for National Grilled Cheese Day. Let’s pretend it’s sometime this week.”

Ledger’s grin is devilish. “I’m in. You in, Ryland?”

Dev stretches his neck back and forth, like he’s hemming and hawing and mulling it over. “Fine, we’ll have grilled cheese as part of our Ambushed by Exes club.”

“It’s a plan,” I say, and I leave the relationship talk at that, not pushing into how he’s doing now. But the door’s been opened at least.

We settle into a comfortable silence, and I glance around the small restaurant. There are only a dozen or so tables at The Green Pantry, and we’re pretty much closing the place down. A couple at a table in the corner is paying their bill. He touches her arm as he signs the check, and she angles closer to him, a soft smile on her lips. There’s a sensual energy between them, so I look away quickly.

Soon, we’ll have to deal with the honeymoon bed. “This place was good,” I say, delaying the inevitable. “Did you guys like it?”

Ledger eyes his empty plate. Then Dev’s. “Was it not clear that we liked it?”

“Finishing isn’t the same as liking something,” I say.

Ledger’s blue eyes sparkle. His lips curve into a slow grin. “Might have to disagree with you there, honey,” he says, his voice shifting to a bedroom husk.

Dev picks up the baton of the conversation, his raspy tone hitting the same sexy, innuendo-laden notes. “I definitely like finishing.”

I shake my head as heat tinges my cheeks. But I glance at my plate, where several forkfuls of my dish remain. “I didn’t finish, but I liked it.A lot.”

Dev keeps his gaze locked on me, his green eyes bright with dirty delight. “Things you wouldn’t say with us,” he says.

Us.

That word clangs, rekindling my desires. Would they share me? Are they trying not to think of me as much as I’m trying not to think of them?

I shouldn’t, but I search their eyes for answers—first Dev’s, whose gaze glimmers my way, then Ledger’s. His blue eyes don’t stray from me, either, and neither man seems bothered that the other is checking me out.

My mind floods with a fresh wave of images. Hungry kisses, curious hands, questing mouths determined to make me finish, maybe many, many times.

That’d be an adventure, for sure.

But what would happen in the morning? We’re three lost souls, wandering around this desolate, post-relationship landscape, trying to figure out what’s next.

Thirty-six hours after a failedI dois not the time for me to saymake it a double.

I swallow, trying desperately to reroute to Platonic-ville. I fiddle with my napkin and fold the linen neatly on the table. “I’d heard great things about The Green Pantry when I was planning. It’s a woman-owned business, and I try to support ladies when I can…”

I’m not rambling at all.

“Like Beverly’s diner,” Ledger points out.

I smile. “Yes.”

“That’s why you should root for the Golden State Foxes over the Sea Dogs. We’re a woman-owned team,” Dev says, and I picture Jessie Rose, the badass billionaire boss lady behind his team. Ivy’s not only the mascot for the team, but she also does some work for Jessie as a personal stylist and has said how much she looks up to the tough and brilliant team owner.

Ledger stretches his arms across the back of the chair. “But when you’re thinking about who to root for, don’t forget I’ve won two cups.”

The smug smile saystry to best me.

Dev glowers a moment, then he straightens his shoulders, game face on. “And I’ll fucking play till I claim one too.”

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