Page 52 of He Has Charm

After a night with more pool than beer, we got home at a decent hour because Katy started to fade. This morning is quiet with coffee and muffins from the diner down the street. No one feels like cooking and we’re in a collective self-indulgent mood.

But I did get Maddox an omelet with vegetables and no cheese to keep him on a healthy diet. He cheats and grabs a muffin out of the box. I smile, but I’m worried too, because I know something’s not right.

The front doorbell rings and Maddox insists on answering it, unconcerned about media or others tracking him down. He comes back to the kitchen with a package.

“It’s for you,” he says, and hands it to me. He darts a worried glance at his sister, but then focuses every ounce of the considerable charm of his baby blue eyes on me. He slides the package across the island toward me. “Open it, sugar buns,” he says softly.

My heart kicks into overdrive and I stare at the box a beat, unable to fathom what it could possibly be. The plain brown box has no markings or clues on the outside, but it’s clear he got me something, a gift. Am I reading too much into this? It doesn’t matter. Anticipation knots in my belly and sends adrenaline through my blood stream.

With shaky hands, I cut the tape open with a knife and open the flaps. My heart thumps louder and I take a deep breath to get myself under control.

“This is exciting,” Katy says. “A surprise gift.” She shoots me a reassuring glance and I accept it. I can’t look at Maddox right now because I’m afraid that would make my heart explode. He says nothing, but I can feel the hum of his energy beside me, the connection between us revving me up and keeping me grounded at the same time. I peel back the layers of brown paper and reach inside. I grab onto something and I know immediately what it is.

“Oh my god, Maddox! You didn’t!” I pull the shoe from the box by the stiletto heel and hold it up. The signature red sole shines and I jump from my seat, tears springing to my eyes.

Katy screeches. “Tell me that is not a pair of Christian Louboutin Pigalle Follies!”

I throw my arms around Maddox, who’s busy laughing, and I may have stabbed him in the back with the heel in the process, but he hugs me back without complaint. We stand there hugging for a few beats before the excitement over the new shoes is quickly replaced by being in his arms, up against his amazing rock-solid body with all those powerful muscles under my fingertips and sliding over my body. And I can definitely say that these shoes are nothing compared to that warm breath against my temple, the words he’s whispering in my ear.

“I’m so glad you like my gift. I wanted to please you, to do something nice for you, because you’ve been doing so much for me.” Then he kisses my hair. “So sweet,” he says.

And I almost collapse against him, my knees buckling with the kind of swoon I would never guess was possible and especially not for me.

Seventeen

Maddox

Holding Harper against me, embracing her warmth, her lush sensuality, strangely brings me a joy that has nothing to do with physical excitement, though that’s there in the background. The deep galvanizing pleasure I feel has everything to do with pleasing her, giving her something she wants, even if it’s not me. Fuck, it feels too good.

With my eyes closed and my face buried in her hair, the hair that I’ve dreamed about splayed all over me, I take a deep breath and pray for the return of my sanity. Not that I’m the praying type except to the hockey gods on occasion. I’m so deep into her, dangerously invested beyond a friend or a potential lover because we’re not even actual lovers. I scoff at myself internally and straighten, loosening my arms, and step back.

The world around me comes into focus and I realize I’d lost sight of reality for a minute when I meet my sister’s gaze. Shit. She has that girly smile, and I know she has ideas in her head about me and Harper. Fuck. I drop my hands and back away further, the smile on my face faltering.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Maddox.” Harper is breathless and staring at me like she’s been struck by Cupid. “No one’s ever given me such a thoughtful, beautiful gift. You knew exactly what I needed, wanted, and you got it for me.” I swallow down the lump of emotion, too chicken to find out what it’s made of.

“It was easy,” I say, which is true, but easy skims the surface of how much I anticipated this—the look on her face, seeing her so pleased. And now I realize how much her appreciation exceeds my expectations. And how much trouble we both might be in.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, big brother.” Katy comes to me and hugs my arm, swiping a tear from her face. “Don’t mind me. It’s the baby hormones.” Harper laughs, and I see the glitter of tears in her eyes.

Then my sister embraces her and it’s as if they’re suddenly real friends, bonded and communicating silently in their heartfelt hug. Shit. When, how did this happen? It can’t be over a couple of meals and a shared moment like this, with me. Is this all because they think I’m … I can’t even think about what they’re reading into this gift. I especially don’t want to consider if there’s any possibility—no.

Sure, it feels good to please Harper—okay, more than good, but that doesn’t mean… anything. It doesn’t mean there’s any future. After the season she’ll fade away into the background where she always was and I’ll move on. Shit, why does that idea make my gut clench? In a very bad way.

The two women end their bonding clutch and I busy myself cleaning up the kitchen.

“I need to get going,” Katy says. “I’ve already packed. Sorry to drink coffee and run, but I need to get back to my hubby. I kind of miss him. Especially after seeing—”

“Tell the lucky bastard to give me a call and he better not miss the next game.”

“Will do.” She laughs and we hug and Harper walks her to the front door.

When Harper comes back to the kitchen, I stiffen. She’s still smiling.

“I really like your sister. I wish I had one.” She sounds so heart-wrenchingly wistful that my first instinct is to tell her she can share mine. But I give myself a mental slap. That would sound too much like… commitment. “You can rent Katy for a weekend here and there. The rate is cheap,” I say, trying to joke, but my grin is half-assed. She laughs as if she doesn’t notice.

“I’m going to take a shower now.” I realize my mistake when her eyes snap to mine and we’re both reliving that moment outside my shower. Fuck. I don’t say another word and remove myself from the kitchen, from her presence, for once not needing that kind of shower. But I do need to clear my head. To get back to a place where we can stay in the moment and just be together without any past or future baggage interfering.

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