Page 58 of Just a Little Tempted

“But she’s my sister, Simon.” His jaw tightened. “Don’t fuck this up. You hurt her, and you and I are going to have a serious problem, no matter how good of friends we are. Understood?”

I met his eyes steadily, recognizing the warning for what it was. Not a threat, but a promise. I respected it. I’d do the same for my sister Shannon in a heartbeat.

“Understood,” I said. “But I don’t plan on hurting her. I plan on doing whatever it takes to make this work.”

Kurt studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. “Good. That’s what I needed to hear.”

He clapped me on the shoulder, and some of the tension eased from his stance. “Now come on. The Lynx are already down by one and I need to yell at the TV.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Simon

Eventually, everyone hadfood and drinks, and we settled into the living room to watch the game. My couch was packed, I’d claimed the loveseat, and I’d dragged in chairs from the dining room so everyone had a place to sit. The twins had claimed the floor with a nest of pillows, and Morgan had curled up in the recliner while Liam perched on the armrest beside her.

I pulled Raina down next to me on the loveseat, draping an arm around her shoulders. Wren, settling into a nearby chair, shot her best friend a knowing smirk as she handed over a glass of wine. I caught the blush that colored Raina’s cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned into me instead.

The game quickly captured everyone’s attention. Since it was the Lynx’s first playoff game, the stakes felt higher than a regular-season match. Every play carried weight. Every shot on goal made the room collectively hold its breath. It wasn’t just about skill anymore. It was about the burning need to win. If the Lynx took this game, they’d be starting the playoffs strong, one step closer to the Stanley Cup.

During breaks between periods, conversation flowed easily around the room. Raina seemed to hit it off with everyone—chatting with Noah, asking Morgan about her work, listening with genuine interest as Shannon complained about her latest dating disaster.

But it was the twins who truly captured her attention. Dylan, the quieter of the two, mentioned that she was training for a ballet recital, and Raina’s face lit up.

“I took ballet for years as a kid,” she said, leaning forward with enthusiasm. “I was never very good, but I loved it.”

“Can you still do a pirouette?” Dylan asked, eyes bright with curiosity.

“I haven’t tried in about fifteen years, but…” Raina set down her wine glass and stood, smoothing her dress. “Let’s find out.”

She kicked off her sandals, found a clear spot near the window, and positioned herself carefully. Dylan scrambled up to join her, demonstrating the proper form with the easy confidence of someone who practiced daily.

Then, together, they spun.

Dylan’s pirouette seemed flawless. Multiple rotations, perfect balance, graceful arms. Raina’s was… less polished. She wobbled slightly on the landing and had to catch herself on the windowsill. But she was laughing, her face flushed with delight, and Dylan was clapping and offering tips for next time.

I didn’t know anything about dance moves, but watching Raina—unselfconscious and joyful, connecting so effortlessly with my niece—made something warm expand in my chest.

When she rejoined me on the loveseat, slightly breathless, I leaned in close to her ear. “So… dancers are pretty flexible, right?”

She grinned, catching my meaning immediately. “That was the first time I’ve done any ballet in about fifteen years, so don’t get too excited.”

“Too late.”

Her laugh was soft and pleased, and she pressed closer against my side just as Shannon cried out, “Look at Miles go!” while pointing at the screen.

The third period had just begun, and Miles had possession of the puck. His movements were fluid and lightning-fast as he wove through defenders, heading toward the net. Anticipation coiled tight in my gut. I leaned forward, watching closely, awareof Raina doing the same beside me. The camera tracked his progression, but there was movement all over the ice—

Between one heartbeat and the next, Miles was slammed into the boards.

He hit hard. His legs buckled, his body crumpling until he was sprawled on the ice, motionless. Someone from the opposing team scooped up the puck and skated away, but no one in my living room cared about that.

Raina made a sound low in her throat—dismayed, frightened—and Kurt cursed viciously. I grabbed Raina’s hand as I silently willed Miles to get up.

The room had gone silent. Even the twins were still, watching with wide eyes. Seconds stretched into eternity. Then one of Miles’s teammates skated over and extended a hand. Miles grasped it and was pulled to his feet. Unsteady at first, swaying slightly, but upright. After a moment, he skated off the ice under his own power, heading for the bench.

Raina exhaled a long, shaky breath. She looked at me with a tremulous smile. “I was worried there for a second.”

Before I could offer comfort, Dylan appeared beside us. The little girl patted Raina’s shoulder with solemn sympathy, and Shannon materialized with the wine bottle, topping off Raina’s glass.