Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)

by Meghan Quinn

I learned from a young age that life is short, and you have to fucking enjoy every second of it. So my rule is to say yes. Say yes to as much shit as you can.

I was entranced. I was hooked. I was stolen for the rest of the night. My mind wanted one thing. Her. She had my attention, and no one would steal me away. No one would stop me. Because in all honesty, I’ve had my eye on her for a while, ever since I met her two years before.

This is the story of how I wear the title “Ultimate Fuckup,” because not only did I accidentally get the girl in the hot pink dress pregnant . . . But I broke bro code. Because the girl in the hot pink dress is the sister of my teammate . . . and best friend.

But more importantly, he’s Mr. Prince Charming, the sexiest hockey player in the league, and the . . . horniest. He’s easily the most attractive player on the ice, a flirt, and the object of every hockey fan’s affection—even the men. He’s menacing with a stick in his hand but will captivate you with his charismatic smile—a smile that still contains all of his teeth. And of course, one of my brother’s best friends.

Blue-green eyes lock with mine as I take in his beautiful face. He’s so disgustingly proportionate. From his lips to his nose to the strong, angular curve in his jaw, he’s perfect. Actually freaking perfect. Pair that with his towering height, broad, muscular shoulders, his athletic prowess, and his charming disposition and he’s a tough one to say no to.

“Well, I’m thirsty. All that babbling has left me parched.” The fucking babbling. Normally, I wouldn’t care for a woman to go on and on about random things, but for some reason, when Penny does it, I’m enamored, and I want nothing more than for her to continue. I want to get lost in those crazy thoughts of hers.

She has no idea the number of times I’ve said no to another woman’s advances because of an interaction with her on a particular day.

“Why do you have to rub it in like that? Clearly, it’s embarrassing for me to talk about⁠—” “Rub it in? I’m not rubbing it in. I’m basking in the glory of Penny Lawes thinking I’m attractive.” “Why on earth would you do that?” she asks with a pinch of her brow. “Uhh . . . because you’re a fucking goddess and being recognized by you feels really fucking amazing,” I say before I can stop myself.

I. Want. Her. Need. Her. Bad. And I’m not sure anything can stop me from having her tonight.

“You seem to be in the way,” I say, looking up at him. “Because I don’t want you to leave.” “Well, that’s kind of you to want me to stay, but you see, I fear that if I stick around, I’ll do something really stupid like beg you to nibble on my ear again.” A grin falls over his lips. “That’s not stupid. That’s actually a really good idea.”

“Penny, you can’t just give away the milk for free. You have to make them work for it. A little flash here and a little flash there to keep them begging for more. If you just hand it to them, they’ll become disinterested. And do you really think I want my ankles to be known as has-beens?”

“I recall the night you came in for some red velvet cake. The next day, you had one of the best games of the season.” He lifts his chin. “I told everyone it was because you ate my cake.” “You know, I do believe that was the reason.”

“Be nice to this guy. If he brought you here, you must mean something to him. We think the world of him, and I sure hope you do as well.”

Penny Lawes is done with me. Even though I’m not remotely done with her.

“This, you and me.” I motion between us. “This is a package deal. What I go through, you go through. You accepted those terms when you decided to be my best friend.” “I don’t remember signing any contract.” I prop my hands on my hips in irritation. “It’s a silent contract. Best friends are BOGOs. Buy one, get one. That’s us. So my pregnancy is your pregnancy.” “Yeah, you keep saying that, and every time, it makes me want to take a step farther and farther away from you.”

“If it was me, I’d demand that he be at my beck and call. Hell, I’d make him move in.” “That’s so weird. Pacey said the same thing.” Blakely taps the side of her head. “That’s because we’re smart.” “You’re delusional.”

“That cycle ends here.” He reaches out to touch my hand. “You will not be walking this journey alone, Penny.”

He shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Penny. Hockey doesn’t come first. You and this baby do.”

I’d felt relaxed as if I could be myself without the expectation to be the super-god hockey player most women expect me to be. I was just Eli.

Hornsby: I came back to Penny’s and found her frantically steaming every suit I own. When I asked her what she was doing, she went on some rambling spree about the team sucking because of her, named our child Peggy Leggy, and then told me to go out and find a chick to fuck.

Taters: Dude, you can’t throw down a name like that without telling us you vetoed it. Can you imagine Peggy Leggy Hornsby? Woof. Posey: Hey, don’t you dare woof at Peggy Leggy. She might be a tattered shell of a baby, but she’s still Hornsby’s lineage. Holmes: Did you veto the name? Hornsby: Jesus Christ, of course I did. Peggy Leggy Hornsby is not happening.

“Seriously, what are you saying?” “Chill, dude. I’m just asking her how she’s feeling.” I pause. “Oh . . . that’s probably a good idea.” “You are such a fucking idiot.”

“Because he clearly wants to talk to you after what you wrote.” “And that’s what text messages are for, so you can reply through text, not FaceTime. Who in their right mind FaceTimes someone in the middle of a text conversation? That’s unheard of. That’s . . . that’s breaking social etiquette.”

“I’m weird?” I ask. “You’re the one telling me the only part of a horse you like is its mane.” Posey turns away and asks, “You said that to her?” “It was a weak moment for me. I didn’t know what else to say.”

“God, what you must think of me.” “I think you’re pretty legit, Penny. I’ve thought that for a while,” I say, finally starting to find my voice. “Ever since Pacey introduced you, I’ve only had good thoughts. Even now, when I come home from a game and find you rambling and steaming my suits, I still think you’re pretty damn great.” “Thank you,” she says quietly. “This is where you tell me how great I am.” She chuckles. “And you’re pretty great too, Hornsby.”

“I get it, but I don’t think I want my kid calling me Hornsby, you know?” “He wouldn’t call you Eli, though, either. He’d call you Daddy. So, if anything, I should call you Daddy.” She walked right into that one. “That works for me. Call me Daddy all you want.”

“But don’t feel obligated to call or text tomorrow. I know you have a life and all⁠—” “Penny, and I mean this in the most non-romantic way possible, you are my life now. So yes, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

Huzzah! Thou shall not battle the holy one in gestation. She might be nauseous, and she very well might have enough indigestion to burn down a thousand buildings at night, but she is mighty, and she knows how to pack a solid blow to the very nutsac that put her in this position.

“What guy have I been to you?” “Flirty at first, followed by alpha in the sheets—that’s how we ended up having sex. Then awkward. Uncomfortable. Nervous. And now I’m seeing the kind.” “Only took me a bit.” He chuckles. “But this is who you’ll get from now on.” He gives me a good squeeze. “Promise.” Then I guess I’m a very lucky girl.

Eli: You’re assuming correctly. I’m not doing much to shake the adrenaline. And the last person I had sex with was you, and if I were being completely frank, it’s because you rocked my world that night, and it was hard to forget. Penny: You were drunk. Eli: I wasn’t.

Penny: Weren’t you saying I have all different sides to me? Well, here is another one. Apparently, I cry at the mention of a gift. Eli: Well, keep your expectations low because it’s not that big of a deal. Penny: I think you could give me an old rabbit’s turd, and I’d be happy. Eli: Well, it’s not a rabbit’s turd, so get that out of your head. Penny: Sad, could have been a lovely gift.

“Let me put it this way, Penny. You’re carrying my child, which means I’ll do what you ask of me. If that means strapping a stim machine to my junk so I can experience a sliver of what you’ll be going through, fine, I’ll do it. If you want to strap a watermelon to my stomach and make me do everyday activities around the house, then that’s fine too. Whatever you want, you get.”

“It’s annoying how accommodating you are.” He laughs out loud. “I’m sorry, would you like me to be more unaccommodating?” “No, because then that will only irritate me more.” “Glad you’re honest.”

“Everyone is just going to love Johnny Jim Hornsby. What a name.” “Couldn’t agree more.”

“Please don’t cry. I already feel guilty leaving you. You crying is just going to make it worse.” “It’s not me crying. It’s the baby unfairly controlling how I feel. You put the baby in there. Blame yourself.”

I thought I’d miss my apartment more than I have, but I’m starting to realize that it’s not the place I go home to, but having someone there when you arrive.

She’s so goddamn warm, and soft, and feels like she fits perfectly against me. Like she was meant to be spooned by me all along. I move in so close that I share her pillow and bury my head in her hair.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” “Quite right, quite right,” I reply in a British accent, which only causes his brows to rise higher. I don’t blame him. I’m just as confused as he is.

“If I ever learned anything from Rachel Green, it’s that I have to wear things that I won’t be able to wear when my pregnant belly gets too big.”

“At least I had an excuse. I was pregnant. What’s your excuse for getting cheese stuck in your beard every time we have French onion soup?” “Poor manners,” Dad says, causing Eli to laugh out loud. “Laugh now, son, just wait until you’re older and have lost all self-respect. There will be cheese in your beard as well.”

“With you by my side, yes, I do believe everything will be okay.” “I’m not sure you know how much that means to me.”

Does she know I fucking live for the smell of that lotion? That I so look forward to the smell of it at night that I actually bought myself a travel-size bottle. And I’m so pathetic that I rub it on my hands at night before I go to bed when I’m away. I hope to fuck she doesn’t know that.

This woman, this baby, I’m not just living with them, going through the stages of the pregnancy. They feel like mine. Like they belong with me, in my life.

Or the way she makes me feel like a whole man, a man who isn’t just desirable but also wanted. Needed. Part of a family unit. Hers.

“Are you asking . . .” She pauses and glances over her shoulder and then whispers, “To form an alliance?” I slowly nod my head. “A bosom buddy alliance.” I point at our chests. “We all have boobs. This is information only for those who have boobs.” Winnie rubs her hands together. “I’ve always wanted to form an alliance. This feels right. Should we touch nipples to seal the deal?” “Or we can shake on it,” Blakely says. “I mean sure, not as fun, but sure.”

It’s so crazy to think about how shy I was the night of Eli’s birthday. How I could barely look at him because he’s so handsome, and now I’m at a point in my life where I couldn’t care less if I flash him my boob. I actually welcome it. I welcome all of him.

If I wasn’t the fuckup, the man not good enough for this woman, the man her own brother didn’t want near her, I’d grab her and never let go. She’s . . . perfect. And I’m . . . not.

I want to be a better man. I want to be an amazing father. I want to be an equal partner in this parenting adventure. And fuck me . . . I want Penny.

He smirks down at me. The devil himself could be tainted by that look.

“The little guy is going to be like me, I know it. He’s going to be such a troublemaker.” “No.” She gently shakes her head. “He’s going to be kind-hearted, funny, and handsome . . . just like his father.”