“She’s a derby girl, isn’t she?”

“Yep.”

Bernie could tell by the way she moved. “She hugged you, and you didn’t push her off you.”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to invite me to the wedding?”

“After calling her a whore, I’m thinking no.”

“I thought we agreed on courtesan?”

CHAPTER 13

Blayne pulled out the shredded doll from the pipe and shimmied out from under the sink.

“Found your culprit.” She handed the remnants over to Jess.

Eyes narrow, the wild dog shook the doll. “Damn kids!”

Blayne got to her feet and pulled off her gloves. She quickly put her arm around Jess’s shoulder and hugged her close. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it. By the time I’m done, your plumbing will sing. Arias. Now just breathe. Breathe. Now.”

Jess let out a puff of air, but eventually, normal breathing did commence.

“There. All better.” Blayne plucked the shredded toy from Jess’s grip. “We’ll just toss this.” She walked across the enormous kitchen to the trash can. She stepped on the peddle, lifting the top, and asked, “How about some hot chocolate?”

“I had to lay off the chocolate.”

Blayne froze, the toy still trapped in her hand. “Pardon?”

“I had to lay off chocolate. Doctor’s orders. Until the baby’s born. Caffeine’s not good for ’em and the doc wants to make sure she can tolerate chocolate. Apparently there are some issues with wolfdogs and chocolate?”

Blayne swallowed, her hand trembling. “Uh . . . sometimes. Like full canines, some wolfdogs don’t handle chocolate well.”

Dropping the toy into the trash, Blayne quickly searched out exits in the room, should she have to make a run for it. There were few things that truly scared her, but a wild dog without chocolate was no different—or less deadly—than a starving grizzly.

And a pregnant wild dog? Oy.

Blayne’s father still had scars on his back from what he referred to as “Your mother’s sudden distaste for my red beans and rice.”

“What about you?” Jess asked, and Blayne realized that the female now stood beside her.

Swallowing, “What about me?”

“Can you eat chocolate?”

Blayne licked her lips. They were so dry now. “Uh . . . I can. But my problem is sugar. Too much of it, with my metabolism and all . . . not a good thing.”

The wild dog stepped closer until the only thing separating them was Jess’s giant stomach. “Uh-huh.”

Blayne instinctively kept her eyes on the ceiling or on the floor or anywhere that wasn’t in or near Jess’s cold gaze and did what she always did with her dad when things got really tense betweenthem. She said, “I love you, Jess.”

A lot quicker than her dad ever reacted to it, Jess replied, “Awww.Iloveyou, too, Blayne.” She threw her arms around Blayne and hugged her tight. Blayne let out a silent relieved breath, and that’s when she saw Jess’s friends standing in the backyard, watching the females through the kitchen window.

Blayne mouthed, “Get in here!” And got back quick shakes of four heads. “Now!”

Rolling their eyes and sighing, the wusses headed to the sliding glass doors in the back of the house and Jess pulled back and smiled up at Blayne, seconds before she burst into tears.

Bo finished his drills. They were the same drills he’d been practicing since he was five years old and his father put his first hockey stick in his hands. He did more repetitions now than he did then, but he still did them and it was the one thing out of his schedule that he knew he couldn’t bypass. A situation he’d had to evaluate since his usual daily non-game-day schedule had been destroyed because of Blayne Thorpe.

He’d also come to the conclusion that Blayne was a vortex. A black hole where schedules and basic time management were lost forever.

Not only did she destroy her own schedules, but she destroyed the schedules of others. In fact for the first time since, from his high chair, Bo had pointed at the clock in his parents’ kitchen and silently indicated to his astonished mother that she was late with his breakfast, had Bo not been aware of time. It was something internal, something that he could do without much thought. It was like he could feel the tick-tick of a clock inside him, giving him a down-to-the-second idea of what time it was. That is, until he’d spent time in the Blayne vortex.

In retrospect, perhaps it was a good thing she’d run away from him that first time they’d met. If he’d gotten trapped in her vortex at nineteen, he may have not gotten out of the minor league. Instead he’d still be “No Name” Novikov, playing for some barely-paying-me-enough-for-my-seal-steaks team instead of where he was today.

It was definitely something to keep in mind if he was going to continue spending time with Blayne. Maybe he needed to limit his time with her like some guys needed to limit their time with alcohol. “I’ll only see Blayne Friday and Saturday, so I can sleep in on Sunday to get over my hangover.” Or, in this case, Blayne-over.

The thought made Bo snort to himself as he skated over to the bench where he’d put his towel and a couple of gallons of water, slowing down as he reached it.

He blinked at the wolf watching him, holding out a towel. “You practice every day like that?”

“Don’t you?” Bo asked the wolf who’d hired him. Van Holtz wasn’t a bad goalie, but he could always be better. He had a lot of potential.