Page 31 of The Rebound Play

I try not to let a flush of happiness show in my face. “Well, Benny will be super excited to get some Ice Breakers merchandise.”

“I figured as much.”

“What are you two doing in there? Do I need to chaperone?” Clara calls out, and I make a mental note to have some seriously stern words with my trouble-causing older sister once Dan leaves. I don’t need to be teased about the man I’ve never gotten over, particularly not in my own home.

I chance a look at Dan. He’s watching me as though he is gauging my reaction, looking ridiculously hot in his form-fitting T-shirt that more than hints at his muscular arms and torso beneath.

“Do we need a chaperone?” he asks, his voice soft and quiet. It does things to my being. Things I can’t allow to happen, not if I’m going to keep myself safe from this man. But oh, how easy it would be to forget all that and instead step into his big arms and get lost in his embrace, dissolving into a kiss.

I toss my hair and raise my chin, pushing any such thoughts away.

Not helpful.

But really, that was definitely a little flirtatious. Wasn’t it? Which would mean that Dan is standing in my kitchen, flirting with me. And if he is flirting with me, what does that mean? Does it mean that he’s interested in me? That he still has feelings for me?

That he still loves me?

My breath pitches in my throat.

But I’ve got to push any and all such wild assumptions aside. Dan has moved on. He’s a famous NHL star. He has women throwing themselves at him every day of his life. What would he want, flirting with the girl he left behind?

The door to the kitchen swings open and in bursts Benny, his hockey stick in hand, his helmet still on his head. “Watch me, Dan!” he insists as he nudges an imaginary puck across the kitchen floor. “I’m shooting for a goal!” He swings his hockey stick up and hits the imaginary puck into an imaginary goal by the oven, his hockey stick banging up against the metal with a clang.

“Benny! Be careful,” I scold, inspecting the oven for damage. It may be ancient, but it still works, and we can’t afford a new one. “Maybe it’s best you take that stick out to the yard.”

“But the yard is covered in grass, not ice,” he complains.

“The kitchen floor isn’t ice either, buddy,” I reply. “We’ve talked about using your hockey stick in the house before.”

Benny lowers his head. “I know.”

“What’s the rule?” I ask.

“But I just wanted to show Dan and he hasn’t been here before.” He pauses before he adds, “And it’s snowing out there.” As though that would be the clincher in his argument.

“It’s my fault. I told him to be ready to go when I arrived, which evidently meant practice with his hockey stick inside.” He makes the long trip to crouch down to Benny’s height, quite a ways for a guy the size of Dan. “How about we save your skills for the ice, pal? Follow your aunt’s rules.”

“Okay,” Benny says immediately, and I look at Dan in wonder as he pulls open the back door and takes his stick out to the yard.

“Remind me to get you over here whenever Benny is pushing back, which is most days,” I say.

“I’m at your service,” Dan replies with a little bow, as though he’s a gentleman in Bridgerton.

Don’t think of Dan as a gentleman in Bridgerton. That will do absolutely nothing to dispel the way I feel about him. Nothing at all.

Too late, my mind leaps on the idea, picturing Dan on the show, all swagger and confidence, shooting me sizzling looks across a ballroom floor.

I blow out a breath.

“Shall we go back to see Clara?” I ask. I don’t wait for his reply, instead turning on my heel and pushing through the kitchen door. Being alone in the kitchen with him is dangerous territory, particularly with my newly minted Bridgerton-obsessed mind.

Netflix has a lot to answer for.

“Hi again, you two,” Clara says lightly as we re-enter the living room. “Dan, why don’t you show Kiki what you brought for us?”

Hannah is now sitting at the little table and chairs by the window, studiously coloring, as she loves to do. Dan opens a backpack resting against the wall by the door.

“We’ve got the first game coming up soon and I wanted to give you all these,” he says as he passes me a plastic-wrapped parcel. “It’s an Ice Breakers jersey. I brought one for everyone.”