Page 113 of This is a Kissing Book

“And yet you flew here on your father’s private jet.”

I shrug, used to them teasing me about being a billionaire baby.

“Is it the woman I wanted to take boating?” Bīriņš calls in accented English from where he’s sprawled on a nearby bench.

“Yes,” I say softly, having forgotten about that.

He sits up abruptly, painting a picture. “She’s blonde, curvy. Has these gray eyes and is so …”

I interrupt. “Annoying. Too cheerful. Talks a lot. Way too optimistic for her own good. Drives me crazy.” Jules is one of a kind.

“He’s smitten,” one of them sing-songs before I realize what’s happening.

“Yep, drives him crazy. We get it, dude.”

Butcher flicks my ear. “It’s not fair. This guy has money, good looks, and gets the girls.”

Wearing a smug smirk, I toss him the puck.

“So what exactly is the problem?” Stevens asks.

“Don’t tell me she’s the boss’s daughter,” Bīriņš asks.

“That would make her his sister since he’s the boss’s son,” Butcher says, flicking his ear this time.

Then, Holden Goudreau, our captain, fixes me with his trademark intense stare. “You haven’t told her, have you?”

I clear my throat, admitting guilt.

“Told her about what?” Butcher tosses the puck my way again.

Goudreau snorts. “He hasn’t told her about hockey.”

I wince. “It got away from me.”

“No, it hasn’t,” my captain says. “You tell her you play hockey. She either cares or she doesn’t.”

“I just wanted to be a normal guy to her.”

“So you’re saying, she thought being a billionaire’s son was run of the mill, so you didn’t want to pile on that you’re also an NHL player?” Bīriņš asks.

“When you put it that way …”

They all stare at me.

My phone buzzes with a text from Jules.

Jules: Everything is normal at the office, but I think someone was following me home. Probably just paranoid.

I’m messaging about a flight back to Chicago before I finish reading, while I tell them about the fire.

Bīriņš, whose cousins also live in Chicago, hence the boat, offers to send someone to check on her.

“If your cousins are anything like you⁠—”

He chuckles. “Big, tall, beautiful. Like me, but ladies.”

I call Jules and ask if she’s okay, prepared to stay on the phone with her until we’re face-to-face.