West snorts. “I got video. He couldn’t move. And Mom made him throw away his shoes. The dogs didn’t all have good aim.”
Muffy holds out a hand. “C’mon. Get off the floor before you get jam on your pants. I’m the one who’s supposed to be a disaster this morning. Not you.”
“You’re not a disaster.”
She holds my gaze, silently calling me a liar.
I scowl right back at her, silently telling her she’s been listening to the wrong people.
Her eyes narrow, and I get the feeling she’s not calling me a liar, but she’s accusing me of something else.
No idea what, but whatever it is, it’s unflattering.
“Are you getting up?” she finally asks.
I eyeball her hand.
What would she do if I pulled her down here and kissed her?
Would she kiss me back?
Do I want her to?
Who am I kidding? Waking up wrapped around her, that warm, perfect breast in my hand, is the most action I’ve had in weeks, and yeah, I want more of it.
So I yank on her arm.
But she yanks on my arm at the same time, and I have seriously underestimated Muffy.
She’s got game.
She’s also got better leverage.
Screw that.
I shift on the floor, plant my feet, and tug again, but she’s already braced her own feet, and she’s using her thighs to anchor herself, and my ass is suddenly sliding across the floor.
She’s strong enough to pull me across the carpet.
Jesus.
That’s seriously hot.
I double down. She’s gonna sit.
She adds her other hand to her grip and adjusts her stance, and fuck me.
She’s winning.
“Are you two playing tug-of-war with just your hands?” West asks.
Daisy claps. “Kinky.”
“If one of you breaks a bone, I’m not setting it for you,” Veda announces. “I’m also not treating bloody noses or concussions. I’m off duty today.”
“Mama?” Remy says.
Little guy’s adorable.
“Let go, Tyler,” Muffy mutters while everyone else coos over Remy. “Last thing we need is the team hearing a girl tore your rotator cuff and put you in rehab for the rest of the season.”
I’m probably in danger of needing rehab for my bruised ass, but I refuse to admit that to her. “Why are you being so stubborn?”
“Because I know what you’re doing, and I want you to stop.”
Glad one of us does.
All I know is that I want to pull her into my lap and kiss her.
And I don’t know why.
Also?
There’s still not much action in my junk, so this makes even less sense. “What am I doing?”
She rolls her eyes. I yank one last time, except this time, she twists her hand so that it slides right out of mine, and I plop back onto my ass on the floor.
I stifle a grunt as more pain shoots through my tailbone.
Muffy goes pink.
Veda eyes her, and the two of them do that silent communication thing again, and it ends when Veda carefully pats her mouth with her linen napkin and puts it on the table. “Thank you so much for breakfast. I need to go finish getting ready for the funeral and to dash a few relatives’ hopes about what’s in my father’s will.”
“Did he have any other children needing guardians? Are you in danger of accidentally inheriting them?” Daisy asks as she lifts Remy and spins him in a circle.
Veda’s clearly well-versed in celebrity gossip, because she doesn’t blink at the mention of how the little guy came into all of our lives. “No, but now I wish he had some creepy dolls or something that he wanted my uncle to look after.”
“Does he like creepy dolls? What’s his address?”
“Do not answer that,” West tells Veda.
Muffy’s setting her own napkin aside too. She ate maybe a third of her plate, and now I’m wondering if she was too self-conscious to eat in front of my brother and his socialite wife.
“I need to brush my teeth and go help Veda,” she says to the room at large. “Thank you so much for everything. This was fun.”
Daisy smiles brightly at her. “You’ll have to join us the next time the family invades Copper Valley for one of Ty’s hockey games. Or ride along the next time they play in Florida. I love hosting the boys for parties after their games.”
“No pressure if you’re not interested,” West adds to her with a head nod toward me. “We’d get it. But you’re still welcome.”
I ignore the subtle jab that I’m no fun to hang out with.
“It was nice to meet you too,” Muffy says to West. “I hope you enjoy Richmond today.”
“Do you need any extra guests at the funeral, Veda?” Daisy asks. “I’m very good at distracting annoying family members. All I need is the obituary and a general timeframe when your father might’ve taken a trip where I might’ve possibly met him, and I can be the life of a party.”
I shoot West a look. Who the fuck volunteers to go be the life of a party at a funeral?
He shrugs, but he’s clearly hiding a smile.
“Are you serious right now?” Veda asks her.
West turns that smile onto his wife. “Daisy’s life mission is to improve other people’s lives.”
Veda and Muffy share another look.
“Not to sound rude,” Muffy says, “but if you come, can you pretend you don’t know us?”
Daisy winks. “Only if you promise to let me take you out for drinks next time I’m in Copper Valley.”
19
Muffy
Tyler’s in a mood, and I know I should care, because it’s probably my fault—funeral, awkwardness, his bruised butt, you name it—but I don’t.
He might be holding my hand as we stand graveside behind Veda and her uncle in the dreary November morning, and it might be stupidly reassuring since Dr. Richardson is right across the casket and keeps looking at me, but I still don’t care that he’s in a mood.
I thought he didn’t care that I’m a disaster, and that he found me attractive despite all that, but clearly, I was wrong.
If I embarrass him, then he shouldn’t have taken me to breakfast with his family.
I embarrass myself plenty.
I don’t need to carry the weight of his embarrassment too.
Plus, why is Dr. Richardson staring at me again?
I paid him back what he bid on me. I didn’t even tell Veda who met me in that hotel room. If he’s going to cause a scene—
A woman starts singing a funeral song, and I’ve been paying little enough attention to the service that her sudden acapella performance makes me jerk.
Tyler leans down like he’s going to ask if I’m okay.
But that’s not what he asks. “Why is that asshole you ran into yesterday staring at you?”
“What asshole?”
“I told myself I wouldn’t pry, but if I need to take him behind a headstone and beat the shit out of him, squeeze my hand twice.”
I choke on an unexpected laugh at the image of Tyler grabbing Dr. Richardson and trying to stealthily beat him behind one of the wider headstones in this cemetery, like any of them are small enough here that no one would notice a two-hundred-pound hockey player beating a sixty-year-old man.