The Secret Hook-Up (The Copper Valley Thrusters, #6)

by Pippa Grant

There’s a specific type of dress necessary for the woman who was once asked to sub in for the Beast when her high school did the Beauty and the Beast musical. You’re built right for it, Addie. You have the wide shoulders that fit the costume best. I know this. I do.

Would you look at that? Apparently when you’re dying of suffocation while trying to wrench yourself out of a formal gown, your last memories are the worst times of your life.

“Forty thousand,” the wank-nut next to me says. “Forty-five.” I’m being an absolute fuck myself. But none of these assholes—none of them—would’ve given her a second glance if she’d walked on stage in her baseball uniform. Fuck. Them. They don’t deserve her. And I have a metric ass-ton to unpack when I make my next appointment with my therapist.

“Eighty thousand dollars,” Mr. Not Gonna Win Tonight barks. “One hundred.” I stare straight at Addie, my paddle still up in the air. “Ten more if you tell me your favorite character.” “Fluffle Bucket,” she says. “And I got a triple-death before I came here to get dressed.” “You can play one-handed?” “I can do a lot of things one-handed.” Fuck. Me. Again. I just popped a boner. Worst part? Betting I’m not the only one in this room that just happened to. And if I find out who any of the other boner-sporters are, I’m kicking their asses.

“How much do you remember from last night?” “Touch grass.” He lets that full smile fly, and god help me, he’s using the dimples too. I hate his dimples. They’re fucking glorious. “I’ve never been told to touch grass by a hungover raccoon in a prom dress.” I’d flip him off, but he’d probably have something cheeky to say about that too. And I’d probably laugh.

I glance up at him. “Why did you bid so much on me?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. Whatever reaching acceptance means, it’s clearly working for him.

And someone’s left me a message about my car’s extended warranty. I thought we were done with that scam. Fuckers.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say quietly. “I’m a figment of your imagination. When I leave, your apartment will be messy again and you can do all of the dishes and picking up yourself.”

I make a noise that I hope is acknowledgment mixed with sympathy. Pretty sure I sound like a drowning goat instead.

“Because Duncan bid over a hundred grand for me and it’s making people lose their minds.” “That was…a very large bid.” “There was no fine print. Just because he bid that high doesn’t mean it comes with a blow job.” Mother. Fucker. I just said that to my boss.

“I have to get back to work. I hope you find what you’re looking for in retirement. And I’m glad you’re okay.” His gaze lifts back to my eyes. “I’ll find it,” he says. My brain hears I’ve already found you.

“Would you like to make some young athletes’ days?” “With you, or in your place?” Her cheeks do that pink thing again. “With me.” Yes. “I could think of worse things to do.” “This isn’t a date.” “Didn’t think it was.” “Didn’t you?” “I know where we stand.” For now.

“You’ve been thinking about me.” “You make it very hard not to. Don’t let the plushies fall out of that bag. The team has plans for those.” “Addie Bloom, are you encouraging pranks with stuffed mascots?” “I’m a role model, not an instigator.” She’s absolutely an enabler though.

“Don’t tell her brother, but I dated her for a hot minute the season I got here.” A shocked “No” slips out of my mouth. A heavy dose of something green floods my vision. Not my business. Not my business. Not my business. “Just kissing,” Duncan says. “Nothing more. Long time ago.” “Isn’t her brother⁠—” “Nick Murphy. Yeah. Dude does vengeance like the Berger twins do pranks.” It’s disturbing how much I want to have helped Nick Murphy teach Duncan a lesson for kissing his sister.

“Just a break or a forever slow down?” I ask. His green eyes land on me, and my stomach dips. “Either,” he says. “Depends on what my life looks like then.” Depends on if you want a lazy-ass retired hockey player in your life. That’s what I hear.

“Do not do my dishes.” “I won’t touch your dishes.” “I probably have some T-shirts and sweatpants that are big enough for you. So you can get dry.” “Appreciate it. I’ll bring them back clean.” “They might be pink.” “Then I might not bring them back. I don’t have much pink in my wardrobe yet.”

“Not quite those words, but he did say I’d seemed stressed and the players had noticed. So I—I’m trying to remember to be more me.” “Believe in what the universe has planned for you,” I muse. Yeah, I’m better. Because she’s here. I’m not alone. She makes me okay.

“You are so damn infuriating.” I suppress a smile. She’s not mad at me. She’s mad at herself for liking me. And maybe she’s mad at me for getting past her fences. But I don’t care if she’s mad. Why she’s mad. Who she’s mad at. I truly don’t. Not when she’s angling her body and her head exactly right to brush her lips against mine. “So fucking infuriating,” she repeats. I love you too, Addie Bloom.

Brooks was pissed as hell at being traded to the Fireballs because the team historically sucked. He didn’t want forever. He wanted to lose his virginity and catch up for all of the years he didn’t sleep around because of a superstition that his bat would go to hell if he got laid. And yes, I do regularly wish I didn’t know that about him.

I’ve always felt the obligation to go overboard taking care of the people in my life, and you—you don’t need me to take care of you. You just need me to stand next to you. It’s nice. I like it. I like you.”

Too much, dummy. We’re going slow. We’re not scaring her away with I am obsessed with you and I will defend your honor to the end of time.

I pull up our text messages and scroll back. I wish you hadn’t gotten attached. Then we could’ve hung out forever. I’m attached, Addie. I’m attached, and we’ll still hang out forever. But in the meantime, I have a boner to rub out and some upgrades to our Croaking Creatures date to plan.

And then he has his hands back to himself, straightening like he didn’t just send a jolt of lightning from my cheek to my clit via my nipples merely by brushing a kiss to my cheek. I have it bad.

Addie looks back at him. “Gentlemen, it’s your one day off.” “We wanted tea,” Francisco says. “And to keep an eye on this guy,” Robinson adds. “I don’t need babysitters,” Addie says dryly to the room at large as I take my seat across from her and accept a menu from the hostess. “Here’s the deal,” Luca replies. “You’re like our mom. We don’t like it when men pay over a hundred grand to go on a single date with our mom. It makes us suspicious. Especially since he’s also showing up to games wearing our mom’s name. So we’re going to be good kids who make sure the big bad hockey player isn’t trying to convince our mom that she has to do more than she agreed to do, given the price he paid and the ideas that he might have gotten.” “I’m your mom?” Addie repeats. “It’s more accurate than sister,” Diego says. “I thought we should call you our aunt,” Francisco chimes in. “I got voted down because we listen to you like we’d listen to our moms.” “And we protect you like we protect our moms,” Brooks says.

“Do you have nefarious intentions?” Luca asks me. “Have you met Duncan?” Addie replies for me. “He’s incapable of having nefarious intentions.” “Aww, thank you,” I murmur. She blushes. “It’s the truth.” “You never know what’s in the darkest corners of people’s souls, Coach,” Robinson says. “What’s in the darkest corner of your soul?” his date whispers. “I can’t tell you here,” he whispers back.

“You want to share it? And then try another kind when you’re done?” our server asks. “Yes,” Addie and I answer together. “We could even share a teacup,” she adds. Objections rise around the room, and the most beautiful thing ever happens. Addie Bloom, Ms. Straight-faced Badass, doubles over laughing in front of her players. I nudge her foot with mine. “Nice job, Coach.” “Footsie!” Robinson shrieks.

“Can we also get a tray of the traditional English sandwiches too, but swap the salmon spread for extra egg salad?” I ask our server. She nods and slips away. Addie’s still chuckling, but she straightens and looks at me. “You remembered.” “Of course I remembered. Remember why too.” She hates salmon. Had the canned version too many times in salmon patties as a kid. She’s smiling at me, but it’s a softer smile. A thank you smile. An I like you smile. And the grumbles going up at the tables around us tell me I’m not the only one noticing.

“I love your underwear.” “I hate your pants.”

“How long were they together?” Addie asks. “Like fifteen years. He was practically the only dad she knew. They never got married because his ex-wife wrecked him so bad. Sort of like how Lena totally wrecked Uncle Duncan.” I stare at Paisley without comprehending what she’s talking about long enough that she wrinkles her nose. “Your ex-wife?” Huh. Once again, no hurt there. “I forgot she existed.”

The night lies, my therapist used to tell me. It tells you the scary things that you want to believe.

“You get to make mistakes and take up space and have needs and not be sorry for it,”

I want to love you. I do love you. And it’s scary, but you’re worth being scared for. I’m not afraid of you. I’m only afraid of me, and I’m working on that.” “Addie.” His voice is hoarse, barely audible, and I hear so much in the way he says my name. I love you. I will be your defender and protector and champion until the end of time. You are everything that’s been missing in my life. He’s said it in so many ways the past couple months. He says it when he brings me coffee. He says it when he gifts me the best weapons in Croaking Creatures. He says it when he does my dishes, when he watches a movie with me, when he helps me with physical therapy exercises, when he listens to me as I talk about my day. And I hope I’m doing enough to show him that I love having him in my life too. “I love you,” I whisper again.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” I whisper. “It’s what you do for the people you love. And Addie Bloom, I love you more than I ever have or ever will love anyone or anything else.”

She hangs up the phone and stares at it. After a moment, she lifts her face, and her eyes lock with mine. And then she bursts into tears. “H-happy,” she sobs as Paisley and I both attack her with hugs. “H-happy t-tears.” “Why are we crying happy tears?” Paisley asks with a sniffle. “Dammit, Addie, you know I’m a sympathetic crier.”