Page 64 of Puck Your Bunny

Leaving the shed door cracked open to let the summer breeze circulate the air, I walk back into the house.

The rest of the day passes. The afternoon bleeds into the early evening. The guys face an exhausting championship matchup tomorrow. Their final practice runs late, leaving us a tight window to enjoy the shed before exhaustion sets in. I intend to make every single second of the night count.

I step into the kitchen to finish the meal prep. Water runs over the red potatoes in the sink. Scrubbing the dirt off the skins, chopping them into thick wedges, and tossing them in olive oil, crushed garlic, and fresh rosemary sprigs keeps my hands busy. A baking sheet of the seasoned potatoes goes into the oven.

Next, a head of iceberg lettuce comes from the crisper. I chop the greens, add sliced cucumbers and cherry tomatoes into a large glass bowl, and mix the crisp summer salad with a tangy vinaigrette.

Leaving the food to cook, I head down the hall to the bathroom. Stepping out of my dusty clothes, I turn on the shower. The warm water washes the sweat and the scent of cedar sawdust down the drain. Stepping out onto the tile, I dry my skin with a towel. I open my bottom dresser drawer and pull out a matching set of black lace lingerie. The delicate fabric slides up my thighs, and the bra clasps hook over my ribs.

Grabbing a dark green summer sundress from a hanger, I slip the soft material over my head. The dress hugs my curves and falls to my knees. Standing in front of the mirror, I swipe mascara across my lashes and add a pink tint to my lips. I brush my hair out, letting it fall over my shoulders in loose waves. The guys spend every day looking at me in baggy sweatpants and messy buns. Tonight, I want them to see the Omega they claimed.

Vinny arrives right at six o'clock. He walks through the front door, dropping his backpack near the entryway with an easy smile. He unzips the front pocket and pulls out his company tablet.

"Hey, Vayda." Vinny taps the screen to wake it up. "Ready to head out to the yard? Catch me up on his afternoon."

"He drank two cups of thickened water." I point toward the empty cups on the counter. "I changed his brief at five. He took his afternoon meds at three."

"Perfect." Vinny taps the information into the digital log. He walks over to the wheelchair, offering Brendan a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Bren. Ready for our marathon? I brought the racing game with the neon cars. Want to watch me run some tracks tonight?"

Brendan hums a low note of approval.

Vinny smiles. He walks over to the television and boots up the gaming console. Brendan settles into his chair, watching the bright colors flash across the screen.

Leaving the two of them to the game, I head back into the kitchen. I grab the bowls of hot potatoes and crisp salad, carrying the food out through the sliding glass door. A quick stop at the grill retrieves the massive racks of ribs. I pile the feast onto the outdoor table.

Standing on the concrete patio, I smooth my hands down the front of my dress. The meat rests on a wooden cutting board,glazed in a sticky barbecue sauce. The potatoes steam in a ceramic bowl. Stacks of plates, silverware, and a cooler full of iced beers sit ready for the guys. The shed waits in the far corner of the yard, packed with soft blankets and ready for us.

The rumble of a truck engine echoes down the street. Kel's truck pulls into the driveway, and the engine cuts out. Three doors slam shut in rapid succession as boots hit the pavement. They walk around the side of the house, heading straight for the wooden gate of the backyard. They wear clean clothes. The scent of worn leather, amber, and bergamot rides the evening breeze, free of arena sweat. The Canval Reapers’ first line are home from their final practice.

The latch on the wooden gate clicks. The three of them step into the backyard. They wear clean clothes, their skin fresh from the arena showers. Exhaustion lines their faces, but their eyes track straight to the patio table and the feast waiting for them.

Simon inhales a deep breath, flaring his nostrils.

"Barbecue." Simon grins. He closes the distance to the patio and wraps his arms around my waist. He lifts me off my feet and spins me in a circle. "You're an absolute lifesaver."

"Put me down." I laugh and swat at his thick bicep.

Simon lets my feet hit the concrete. He takes a step back. His mischievous green eyes sweep over the dark green fabric of my sundress. He pushes a hand through his copper hair, sweeping the medium-length strands back from his face. He takes in my loose hair and the makeup on my face.

"You look incredible." Simon drops his voice to a low rumble.

Kel stops next to the patio table. His black hair sits pulled back in a man-bun, the sides buzzed close to his scalp to accentuate his strong jawline. Ink from his chest tattoos peeks out from the collar of his t-shirt. He trails his piercing gray eyes up my bare legs and meets my gaze. A wicked smirk spreads across his face.

"Green is your color." Kel bumps his shoulder against Simon.

Wally steps up close behind them. He takes in the effort I put into my appearance. The possessive heat in his dark brown eyes makes my pulse jump. A thick mop of dark, wavy curls falls over his olive forehead as he claims the space in front of me. He wraps a massive hand around the back of my neck, tilting my face up to capture my mouth in a hot, demanding kiss. He pulls back, his breath brushing against my cheek.

My cheeks burn, but I smile. I point toward the sliding glass door. "Go wash your hands. Dinner is ready."

Wally and Kel walk past us. They file into the house. The sound of running water and banter drifts from the kitchen sink. They return a minute later, grabbing cold bottles of beer from the cooler on the patio.

We gather around the outdoor table. The guys pile their plates with massive slabs of ribs, mountains of roasted potatoes, and scoops of salad. They eat with the ravenous appetite of professional athletes burning thousands of calories a day. The brown sugar and smoked paprika glaze caramelizes the edges of the meat, leaving sticky barbecue sauce coating their fingers.

I wipe a smudge of sauce from my thumb with a paper napkin. "You guys spend all your time talking about practice or game tape. Tell me a story about something else. How did the three of you meet? Did the Reapers put you on the same line right off the bat?"

"We forced their hand." Simon points a rib bone at Wally. "The front office stuck all the new draft picks in the same corporate apartment complex for development camp. Fifty rookies stood in one crowded lobby waiting for room assignments."

"Chaos everywhere." Kel laughs, wiping a spot of sauce from his thumb. "Everyone wanted to rip each other apart for a roster spot. Then Simon bumped into Wally at the check-in desk."