Page 19 of Buckle Up, Buttercup

Faint footsteps echo from inside the suite. Closing my eyes, I suck in a steadying breath along with a big gulp of hot coffee. I can do this.

Bluebell appears on the porch next to me, tan legs sticking out from underneath my sweatshirt.

“Are you wearing shorts?” I bark out, sputtering as I choke on a second mouthful of coffee.

She slaps my stomach as she rolls her eyes. “Of fucking course I’m wearing shorts. How awkward would that be if I was, like, naked in your clothing? Better not let Jasper find out. He’ll flip his wig.”

“He’d rip my wings off,” I mutter, thinking about the last time Jasper got it in his head that I looked at his sister wrong. It’s been a solid five years since that argument, but I’m careful not to stare too hard at her because of it. He’s very…protective. Bill and Elena have always drilled that into him as the oldest.

She lifts her arms over her head and stretches.

My eyes drift to where the move exposes a few inches of her flat stomach. A floral tattoo swirls down her entire left side and thigh. How high up does it go? I don’t know.

I’d like to know, though.

“Is your tit tattooed?”

Fuck. Did I just say that out loud?

Bluebell roars with laughter but blushes and tucks a long chunk of bright blue hair behind her delicate, round ear.

“Umm, yeah. The tattoo goes up the side and over my shoulder.”

“Damn, that must have hurt.”

She winks. “You still not a tattoo guy?”

I shake my head. “Can’t think of anything I like enough to put it on my body like that. Piercings, though, those interest me a whole lot more.”

Her playful smile drops, and she lifts both hands in shock. “Wait, wait. And I’m just hearing about this now? Where the hell do you have piercings?! I saw you shirtless last night.”

It’s my turn to wink. “They’re all places you can’t see when I’m shirtless, Bluebell.”

She scoffs. “Does Jasper know? Wait, scratch that. If you’ve got a bunch of asshole piercings, and y’all got them together, I don’t need that mental image.” She scrunches her nose and shakes her head like she’s dispelling that vision that’s most surely in her head right now.

I jerk my head toward the kitchen. “Coffee’s ready. There’s cream and plenty of sugar so you can ruin yours with all that shit you love.”

“Spank you very much,” she chirps as she turns to pick her way across the living room.

Jasper ain’t here, so I allow myself to watch her as she walks. Long, tan legs are trim with muscle, and the floral tattoo curls down her left thigh. She might be wearing shorts, but they’re short enough that I can almost see the swell of her ass beneath my sweatshirt.

And now something else is swelling too, because Bluebell looks really damn fuckable right now.

Masking a groan beneath a cough, I force myself to glance back down into the courtyard, pretending I care about what’s going on below until she returns with coffee in hand.

She blows on the steaming cup, and I try not to focus on the purse of her lips. They’re blue right now too, part of the spell she uses to dye her hair and freckles. Looking up, she smiles. “So, what’s on your docket for today?”

I shrug and lean against the stucco railing of the small porch. “Some guys are sticking around to do a day of practice with the local team. I was planning to head home and take a couple days off before our next home game. It’s been a long few weeks of traveling.”

She sips the coffee.

I smile. “You wanna go back together? We can⁠—”

A rustle and flash of light from down below grabs my attention. Flaring my right wing protectively around Bluebell, I crush her to my side as I look for a threat. In the courtyard below us, a small group of photographers have their cameras pointed upward, and they’re snapping pic after pic.

I usher her back inside, knowing she won’t appreciate what they’re doing.

“Alk, Alk!” she shouts, pushing against the leathery skin of my wings. “What are you doing?!”