Page 43 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

They darken a shade, and my insides do a little flip.

“Good, right?”

“So good,” I agree, focusing on my breakfast.

I’ve barely made a dent in my food when Calvin leans forward, placing his tray on the coffee table.

I balk.

How? How is that even possible?

“I did a pre-rehab workout,” he explains, hearing my silent question. “I assume that’s what you can hear.”

“Right. Yeah. I guess.”

He shifts forward and turns to face me, his knee bumping against mine.

“Is there anything you need before I go?” he asks, his eyes bouncing between mine as if he can read something in them. Even if I did need something, I wouldn’t be asking him to get it for me, and I think he knows that. It’s just not his job. He should be focusing on his rehab, not worrying about me. I’m already going to hate myself if he gets this and puts himself out of action for a few days.

“I’m fine. It’s more home reno shows and movies for me today.”

He nods, accepting my response. “I’ll check in with you later. Make sure you get some rest,” he instructs as he climbs to his feet. He looms over me, looking larger than life.

“That is literally all I’m going to be doing,” I argue. I swear, something wicked flashes in his eyes, and I can’t help but think of my vibrator. “And you don’t need to check in. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“What if I want to?” he asks, quirking a brow.

“I…uh…I hope your rehab goes well,” I say, unable to come up with anything better as he heads back to my kitchen to clean up. “Leave that. I’ll deal with it later.”

“I didn’t bring you breakfast so that you could do my cleaning,” he argues as he rinses the dishes and places them in my dishwasher. It reminds me of watching him do the exact thing last night, and I bite down on my bottom lip as he bends over, giving me an unobstructed view of his ass in his sweats. “Okay, so…” He spins around and blatantly catches me ogling his ass. His smirk turns feral, and my cheeks blaze once again. It’s a good thing my fever seems to have passed, because I swear I’d have burned to a crisp this morning. His eyes hold mine for a beat before they drop to my lips. Thankfully, the couch hides the rest of me from his view—not that there’s much to look at, considering I’m wearing one of Garrett’s old hoodies and sweats.

“I should be done around six tonight. Message me with what you want for dinner, and I’ll grab it on my way home.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to⁠—”

“I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Really? No puck bunnies to keep you entertained?”

His jaw tics the second those words roll off my tongue, but as quickly as I’ve seen it, the reaction is gone, making me question whether I imagined it.

“Message me with what you want. Anything. Got it?” he demands, his voice firm, leaving no room for me to argue further.

“Got it.”

“Good. See you later.”

And then he’s gone, walking out of my apartment like none of that just happened.

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I frown at my screen, blinking sleep from my eyes.

It’s the first in a whole stream of messages I’ve woken up to from Calvin.

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