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Chapter Thirteen

M uscle strain.

That’s all.

Burgess had a strained muscle in his lower back.

He’d expected the doctor to walk in after the series of X-rays and tests to tell him he’d fractured a vertebra or torn a ligament. The diagnosis was nothing that serious, though. Strain he could deal with. Strain wasn’t a career ender.

Until the moment the doctor said those two magical words to him—“muscle strain”—Burgess had no idea of the ton of bricks he’d been carrying around on his shoulders. Holy fuck. His back still ached like nobody’s business, but knowing he wouldn’t require some bullshit surgery or a magic concoction to numb the pain, the relief made him feel like a new man. And there was no better timing than finding out the day before the Bearcats season opener.

He had Tallulah to thank.

Instead of being in the dark and worrying that a single hit was going to put him down for the count, confidence was already beginning to flow back into his veins.

Although, his former confidence had definitely begun its triumphant return last night in the kitchen when his au pair had very nearly jumped his bones.

Hard as it was to admit, Sig was right.

It paid to go shirtless.

Burgess slid off the doctor’s table, both of them laughing over the way it groaned beneath his weight, and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Thanks for the great news, doc. I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”

“Anything for my favorite Bearcat.” Why was the guy frowning after delivering the world’s most welcome diagnosis? “Listen, Burgess. I feel the need to inform you that this isn’t great news, although it might seem that way compared to, say, a herniated disc. But if you don’t rest the injury, it could get worse. You’re going to compensate for the pain out on the ice and that could lead to injuries to other parts of your body. Knee, shoulder...”

“No, I hear you.”

Spoiler: he wasn’t really hearing him.

Muscle strain was all Burgess heard. Halle-fucking-lujah.

“I highly suggest you speak to the team’s trainers about physical therapy to keep the muscle from stiffening and to strengthen the ligaments surrounding it,” continued the doctor. “In the meantime, I can prescribe something to lessen the pain—”

“No thanks, doc. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll handle it.” He shook the man’s hand again, ignoring the concern etched into the man’s forehead. Doctors were paid to be overly cautious, that was all. They didn’t understand an athlete’s capacity to overcome minor shit like this with the power of adrenaline and will. Burgess had those things by the bucketload, especially now that he knew his body wasn’t falling apart. “Thanks again.”

Burgess walked out of the building in Back Bay and found himself...

Extremely interested in getting eyes on Tallulah.

It was just after lunchtime. Lissa was still in school and he didn’t have practice tonight, meaning he didn’t have to rush home and change. He was free.

He slipped his phone out of his coat pocket and looked at it, wondering if it was wise to call Tallulah. Maybe a better idea would be to let things happen the way they’d been happening. As in, taking his shirt off in front of her in the kitchen. That seemed to be the way to go. Let her get used to him. Let her come to him.

But nah, he was a fucking hockey player.

She’d given him an opening and it went against his nature not to take it. Despite Tallulah’s claims that she wanted to help him get back out on the social scene and meet new people, she’d offered him her mouth in the kitchen. And he might not be an expert on the opposite sex, but an unsolicited massage from this woman seemed like a good sign?

Before he could talk himself out of it, Burgess shot Tallulah a text.

Burgess: Good news from the doctor.

Tallulah: WHAT? TELL ME.

Shit, he was smiling like a goddamn clown. Someone passing by in a white sedan rolled down the passenger window and stuck their head out, yelling, “Sir Savage!”

He lost the smile and put on the most terrifying expression he could muster, earning him a furious round of honks and cheers from the occupants of the vehicle.

Bostonians, man.

They loved a villain.

Burgess: Just a muscle strain. I’m golden.

Tallulah: That’s amazing. SO MUCH YAY. No more massages needed, I guess?

Burgess: Actually, the doctor said massages were vital to my recovery.

Tallulah: Sounds sketch.

Burgess: Nope. He’s one of the best.

Tallulah: Hmmm. HMMM.

All caps coming from anyone else was annoying.

Why was it funny and adorable coming from Tallulah?

Burgess: Was thinking, if you want to go on one of your Boston adventures today before Lissa gets home, I’m available to be a badass.

Tallulah: GASP.

Tallulah: I’m in class right now, but... I could go for an adventure in about an hour?

Burgess: Do you have something specific in mind?

Tallulah: . . . I might.

Burgess: Tell me where to meet you.

Tallulah: Amory Park?

Burgess: I’ll be there.

B urgess stopped outside of the coffee shop across from the park, making sure no one was looking before leaning close to the glass and fixing what the September wind had done to his hair, licking his fingers and smoothing down a section on top. Any other time, he might go a full day without checking his reflection or the state of his hair once, but he was about to meet Tallulah. In the park. In the middle of the afternoon.

Not a date.

He had to keep telling himself that.

No number of reminders made him any less tense, unfortunately. Whether or not this was a date, he was spending his free time with a beautiful woman. She was spending her free time with him. It might have been over a decade since he went on an actual date, but didn’t hanging out in the park together fit the criteria?

Based on the drivel he’d overheard from the Orgasm Donors, Tallulah’s generation didn’t like to put labels on anything romantic. They called each other partners, instead of boyfriend and girlfriend. They dated in groups. Just because two people were sleeping together didn’t make it exclusive. In other words, the kind of vagaries that would give him a brain bleed... if they concerned her .

He’d deal with it, though. For now.

She’d taken time out of her day to come meet him. Trusted him to come along as she explored his city. The unknowns were a fair trade-off for feeling his pulse pounding for something other than a hockey game. Yeah. Fine. He’d let it be vague. For now.

Burgess checked his watch. Fifteen minutes early.

Maybe he should call Sig. His teammate might be able to help him figure out how to handle the fact that the girl he wanted to sleep with was trying to prepare him for the dating scene. Other women. Sig dated, right? They didn’t really discuss their love lives, but Sig always claimed to be busy these days when the young guys went out to clubs or parties.

His other option was Wells.

Yeah, he’d call Wells. The golfer had gone through some recent turmoil trying to lock down his caddie, which was probably the same level of difficulty as trying to land his grad student au pair. Jesus Christ, was that really what he was trying to do?

He thought of her braiding Lissa’s hair.

Glaring at him over a peanut butter smoothie.

The way she’d blushed when he leaned in to kiss her.

The first night she’d lived in his place and he’d come home to find her bent over the kitchen table in a leather skirt.

Yup.

Land her. That was the game plan.

Burgess took out his phone, sighing as he tapped Wells’s name in his contacts. This was going to be insufferable, so he’d damn well better get some insight out of it.

“Burgess. What’s up.”

“Wells.” He paced the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop window, dismayed to see his hair was back to being out of place. What he wouldn’t give to slap a hockey helmet down over the whole mess. “How is wedding planning going?”

A pause ensued. “You called me to talk wedding plans?”

“No. But I’m working up to the real reason I called.”

“The reason wouldn’t happen to have a name that rhymes with awooga, would it?”

“Awooga barely comes close to rhyming with Tallulah.”

“Ahhh, but you are calling about her. See what I did there?”

“This was a mistake.”

“Don’t hang up. Don’t. Josephine will kill me if ?I miss a chance to get the tea.”

“The . . . what?”

“The gossip , man.”

Ohhh. Tea was gossip . A couple of Lissa’s recent statements were suddenly making sense. “Are you in charge of planning any part of the wedding or are you just showing up looking smug?”

“I’m going to show up looking smug and I’m in charge of music. It’s called multitasking.”

“Band or DJ?”

“DJ. But I was thinking of surprising Josephine with something a little extra during the ceremony. Like... a choir? Or a harp. I don’t know. Something fucking romantic.”

“Harp.” Burgess quit his pacing, taking a moment to recall why that instrument stood out in his mind. “Sig Gauthier’s future stepsister, Chloe, plays the harp. She’s supposed to be really good. Like a prodigy or something. Let me know if you’re interested.”

“Wow. Look at you coming through with harpist recommendations. Send me the info.”

“Fair warning, if Chloe goes to the wedding, Sig goes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t ask. But if you end up hiring her, make sure you add two to the guest list.” All right, that was enough small talk. He had less than ten minutes now before Tallulah showed up. “I’m meeting Tallulah in the park.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. When?”

Burgess removed the phone from his ear briefly to see the time. “Eight minutes.”

“Is this a date?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“That’s two different answers.”

“Fine. No. It’s complicated.”

“Let me tell you, I’ve been there.”

“That’s why I called you.” Burgess let out a long breath, scanning the park across the street, just in case Tallulah had arrived early. “I’d like to make her my girlfriend.”

A nostalgic chuckle from Wells. “I’ve been there, too.”

“Yes, I know. With Josephine. How did you do it?”

“I fired her. Don’t do that. That was very specific to our situation, okay? I repeat, do not fire Tallulah.” The rattle of golf clubs could be heard in the background. “Does she like you?”

“How would I know?” Burgess growled.

“Is she giving you any signs?”

“She gave me a massage last night in the kitchen.”

“Then I’d say you’ve got a fighting chance, my man. Especially if it was a dick massage.”

“It was a back massage, shithead. Jesus.” He licked his hand again and furiously tried to smooth down the piece of hair that had chosen today to stand straight up. “What does it mean that she wants to help me get back on the dating scene?”

Wells didn’t answer for several seconds. “You know, you could have led with that. It’s kind of the crux of the issue, wouldn’t you say?”

Burgess grunted.

“I’m out of my depth here, Sir Savage, but I’ll tell you one thing I know purely from a standpoint of self-preservation.” His friend seemed to be pausing for dramatic effect. “Do not actually let her get you back on the dating scene, do you hear me? If she has even the slightest ounce of interest in you and you go on a date with someone else, it’ll sink faster than one of my putts.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Burgess slowly started to nod. “This is the kind of advice I came for.”

“Glad I could help. Godspeed.”

Burgess hung up, put the phone back in the pocket of his coat and crossed the street toward the park, relieved to know what not to do. It wasn’t a plan, necessarily. Still, it was more than he’d had ten minutes ago. But when he saw Tallulah coming up the sidewalk in an open trench coat that blew out behind her to reveal a short skirt and boots that went all the way to her knees, everything he’d just been told drained straight out of his head.

Un-fucking-real.

She saw him and a glow spread across her face, her hand lifting in a fluttery wave, turning heads as she walked. Was he actually trying to make something serious happen between him and this woman? On the wild chance he could have some kind of relationship with Tallulah, how long until his cantankerous nature wore thin and she got sick of him, like his ex-wife had? Was there even any point in trying?

Tallulah did a little skip as she reached him, and his heart followed suit.

Yeah.

Yeah, she was worth trying for.

“Congratulations on your good news.”

“Thank you.”

They agreed tacitly to turn and walk beneath the wrought iron arches into the park—and Burgess immediately did a double take. He’d expected the park to be empty of anyone but children and parents at this time of day, but there was a whole gathering of what looked to be young professionals milling around on the grass, holding cups of lemonade in their hands.

“Must be a company picnic or something,” he remarked.

“Yes,” Tallulah murmured back, vacillating briefly on the stone path. “Or something.”

He studied her out of curiosity, but whatever had her hesitating seemed to have taken care of itself. “What made you want to come to this park?”

“Um.” She rolled her lips inward. “The water, of course.”

“Lead the way.”

They continued down the pathway until they reached the edge of the pond, Burgess watching as Tallulah hunkered down to observe the brief shoreline, her gaze sweeping the rock, grass, and dirt landscape in one fell swoop and warming with fondness. “Isn’t she pretty?”

“I’m guessing you see a lot more than I do when you look at a pond.”

“My heart belongs to the ocean, but I do love knowing there is a structured ecosystem on the shores of a pond that isn’t al ways visible to the human eye.” She dragged a finger through the still surface of the water. “You have your producers, like algae. Consumers, such as fish, insects, occasionally crustaceans. And your decomposers, who are basically like nature’s Roomba, just cleaning up all the waste. Light and heat act as the engine for everything. It’s all running like clockwork, even if we can’t see it.”

“It’s like a team. Everyone has a job to do?”

“Exactly.”

The need to know more about what she loved was too pressing to deny, even though he had to battle through the imposter syndrome that came from being out with a girl this compelling and gorgeous. “Are you enjoying the graduate program so far?”

She made a wishy-washy sound. “Yes and no. I love learning and the information we’re being taught is necessary and valuable. For instance, today we learned about coastal law and policy. But going from exciting internships on four major research studies to... a classroom...”

“You like being in the field more.”

She wiped away a fake tear. “So much more.”

Burgess chuckled. “You, uh... never said what made you choose marine biology.”

When she stood up again, a gust of air carried across the water and sent her hair flying, so he angled his body to block the wind, grunting to himself when the dark strands settled back down around her shoulders. He assumed she wouldn’t notice, but she blinked at him, her eyes tracked upward from his chest to his face. “Did you just block the wind?”

He jerked a shoulder. “I’m a defenseman.”

“Uh-huh.” She continued to regard him thoughtfully with those incredible lips pressed together. “I grew up in a noisy house. I think that’s why marine biology appealed to me.”

Thank God they were off the topic of him defending her against the elements. Could he be any more obvious that he was crazy about her? “I don’t really see how one corresponds to the other.”

Tallulah looked out over the surface of the pond. “My parents love each other, but their mode of communication is bickering at the top of their lungs. My sister was always playing loud music. Like, I developed a spot-on impression of DJ Khaled, because he was just constantly dropping intros in our home. The house was just loud. So freaking loud.

“But in fourth grade, I took a field trip to the zoo. I wandered off from the rest of the class and ended up in the winter animal section of the park. There was one of those underground walkways that allowed me to see underwater as the polar bears swam.” She gestured with her hands, as if trying to portray the shape of the structure. “On the other side were the penguins, diving in and zooming by like little torpedoes. And it was so quiet. It was like that comfortable muffled sound when you go underwater in the bath, you know? Just a glacial hush. I always associated the cold with quiet after that. I wanted to be in the cold quiet.”

Burgess had asked the question with the intention of learning more about what made this woman tick, but he hadn’t expected to relate so hard. “I get that. Feeling more comfortable in the cold. I have that, too.”

“Oh. Yeah. I can see that.” A dimple appeared in her cheek. “This might be the first and last time I’ve ever had something in common with an athlete.”

“It can’t be the only thing we have in common.”

“Should we find out?”

He gave a firm nod.

She hummed. “I like trying new things.”

“I don’t.”

“I like making new friends.”

“Hard pass.”

“I could dance for hours.”

“Pure torture.”

Her laugh echoed over the surface of the pond, in direct contradiction to Burgess’s wince. “Still not getting along with the rookies, I assume?”

“Actually,” he drew out, relieved to have a reason to interrupt the list of things that made them incompatible. “I let the rookies talk to me at practice recently.”

“You let them talk to you?”

“Correct. I asked them for their thoughts on our strategy against the team we’re playing opening night and...” He shrugged, gave his beard a scratch. “Their opinions weren’t as piss-poor as I was expecting.”

After a short pause, she tilted her head. “Did you so graciously allow them to converse with you... because of what I said?”

He made a gruff sound that served as affirmation. “I guess you could say I’m a good listener. Do we have that in common?”

“I suppose . . .”

“I’m good at working on teams. How about that?”

“Yes, that, too.”

“We’re getting somewhere. Now if you’d just do something about your terrible choice in smoothies, we’d have three things.”

Making Tallulah laugh was like taking a shower in sunshine. It just rained down in the form of warmth at the top of his head, coating him down to his toes. The sound and sight was already perfect, yet somehow she made the moment exponentially better by reaching out and giving him a shoulder shove. His hand moved involuntarily, catching her wrist, which she wasn’t expecting—and it did something to her balance. She faltered and tried to right herself, but ended up stepping on the embankment leading down to the pond.

Burgess saved her from taking a swim in the nick of time, hooking an arm around her waist and catching her up against his body, where she landed hard, her breath puffing out on a startled exhale. And he felt her everywhere. Everywhere. The bare thighs that pressed to his longer, denim-clad ones, her tits flattening against that region below his pecs.

Their mouths were close enough to trade breath, his coming faster by the second, because goddamn, she fit him like a glove. One single bat of her eyelashes and he’d ask her to wrap those thighs around his waist. Just to hold her like that, bear her weight, feel her from above.

It was his fault the spell was broken.

He made a hungry sound in his throat and crushed her closer—

But that telling noise seemed to snap her out of her apparent trance and she wiggled out of his hold, pushing a handful of fingers through her hair and letting out a gulping laugh. “Sorry.” She struggled through a breath and he curled his fingers into fists to keep from reaching for her again. “But, um... see? You’re better at small talk than you think.”

“Maybe I’m just good at it with you.”

Color spread up her neck in that way he pictured in his sleep. “You’ll never know unless you try it with other people, though, right?”

A chorus of alarm bells rang in the back of his head. “Is that so?”

She squared her shoulders, but he could tell from her expression that she was confused about something. Maybe by her reaction to him? Still, she said, “Yes.” Those bells clanging in the back of Burgess’s head grew even louder when Tallulah’s gaze flickered at the crowd of people just beyond his shoulder. “That’s why I thought it would be fun to bring you to a singles mixer.”

Fuck my life.

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