Nick

I still don’t know shit about being a good boyfriend, but I know that rubbing my foot up and down Kami’s leg while we devour waffles and bacon and she tells me stories about her family and her patients doesn’t feel like a date.

It feels like hanging with one of my best friends.

And I like it.

“Do you ever feel like the dumb one in your family?” Kami asks as she pushes away a mostly-empty plate and sighs happily with her hands on her belly.

“No way. I have like, four entire hockey plays up here all the time.” I tap my temple. “Bet you Felicity doesn’t even understand one of them.”

Kami shakes her head and laughs. “Sorry. Forgot I was talking to Ego Man.”

“You feel dumb?” I ask. “You’re a doctor.”

“I have one doctorate to Atticus and Brynn’s two each.”

I don’t know her brother or sister well, but I know one’s some kind of astrophysicist who writes bestsellers and the other does something with DNA that’s so over my head I don’t even try. Neither one lives in Copper Valley now.

“You still have one up on your cousin,” I point out.

“No making fun of Muffy. She started Muff Matchers after having a nervous breakdown in medical school.”

“I’d have a nervous breakdown in medical school too.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d bluff your way through it and convince people the heart actually pumps urine to help the kidneys out when they’re stressed.”

I grin. “You really do know me well.”

“No, you’re just simple.”

I laugh over my orange juice, and she slides her foot up my calf.

I’m hard in an instant. Raging, uncomfortably hard. So hard I can barely swallow the mouthful of juice I’m almost choking on.

She grins at me, and fuck, if I’d known she had this devious side, I would’ve just married her eight months ago.

Whoa.

Whoa.

I sputter out a cough and catch her ankle under the table. “Gonna have to wait,” I tell her as I stroke the ball of her foot, since she slipped her shoe off. “We still have plans.”

“If you’re taking me to the zoo, we can skip it and head back to your place.”

I scoff. “The zoo? Totally unoriginal. And we could head to your place.”

“But I like hanging out with your parents.”

Her eyes are sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and that smile—god, it’s so radiant.

For a dumb old puckhead like me.

“C’mon,” I say, rising to my feet and offering her a hand. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Is this what the keys were about?”

It totally is. “What? No. I just ran out of ideas. Tomorrow you’re getting paperclips.”

“Nick.”

I wave to Elmer, who waves back from the kitchen. I paid him two days ago when I talked him into opening up just for us tonight.

“You need paperclips at the clinic, right? For paperwork and shit?”

“Not the size or quantity of paperclips you’d send if you were actually sending paperclips.”

She might be right. I might be pretty simple to understand.

We leave the building and a blast of cool fall air swirls leaves around the parking lot. She shivers, and I take full advantage of the opportunity to wrap an arm around her shoulder. “You don’t really feel dumb, do you?”

“No, but…I do feel less smart. I thought you might—never mind.”

“What?” I press.

She sighs. “I always thought your ego was overcompensation for being the dumb one too. Not that you’re dumb. Or unsuccessful. You’re just…not Felicity-smart.”

“Or talented,” I agree. “I tried talking without moving my mouth once, and I strained my tongue.”

“You did not.”

She’s hiding a smile as I unlock her door and boost her into the Cherokee. But instead of shutting the door, I lean down so we’re at eye level.

“I didn’t want to be smart,” I tell her, and my heart gives a weird jolt, like it knows what’s coming.

“Not even a little?” she teases lightly.

“Smart kids get bullied. I—” Fuck. I have to clear my throat, because even though it’s been twenty-something years since it happened, it still feels like yesterday.

But if Kami needs to hear why I’m a shithead, then I’m going to tell her.

No matter how much I don’t want to think about it.

She tilts her head, brows drawing together.

“I was little,” I tell her. “For my age. It’s part of why my mom’s so…like she is. I was short and scrawny and I never gained enough weight for the doctors. And the other kids noticed.”

“Did you get picked on?” she asks softly.

“Well…yeah.” And shoved. And kicked. And mocked. Crazy the things the right first-grader will say to make you feel like shit. Especially when you’re a little peewee and your dad’s a huge fucking retired hockey player. “A little.”

“Nick.”

I roll my shoulders back. “Kids are mean. And my dad was fucking huge. Not just tall and built, but known, you know? So I asked to play hockey when I was four so I could learn to be huge too, even if I was little. So, no, Felicity being smart didn’t bother me. Me being a pipsqueak bothered me. I wasn’t gonna be a nerdy pipsqueak on top of it. Especially once I realized how much Felicity needed a tough older brother to protect her, no matter how big I wasn’t. But you—” I squeeze her arm. “You’re perfect. So quit thinking you’re not. Okay?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she studies me with serious dark eyes until she asks, “Is it true you don’t practice hard?”

The cocky grin is automatic. “Says who?”

“You want the whole list? Keep in mind, I have half your teammates programmed into my phone.”

“I…could probably practice harder,” I concede.

That earns me a raised brow.

She’s fucking adorable when she’s grilling me. “Ask my mom sometime how awful I was the first couple years I played.”

“Your mom would never say you did anything wrong.”

Probably true. “She has awful embarrassing pictures though.”

“Your mother thinks you’re practically perfect.”

Also probably true. “She used to take me to the skating rink for two to three hours a day to practice. Not because she made me. Because I wanted to.”

Her brows knit together. “You’d practice three hours a day? In grade school?”

“Yeah.” I shrug, playing with her hand, because I’m getting a little warm in the cheeks. “I was fast. I had a stick. And then I had all the goaltender pads. It was my safe place.”

“Oh,” she says softly.

“So, yeah, it probably looks like I’m slacking off a lot,” I admit. “But when you do it right the first time, you don’t have to spend hours doing it again.”

“You have muscle memory.”

“Not quite good enough this year though.” I brush her cheek and pull back. “Time to go. Can’t be late.”

Because she’s Kami, she doesn’t push it. But she does start asking questions when we pull up to the warehouse in Copper Valley’s revitalized downtown thirty minutes later. “Is this a haunted house? I swear to God, Nick, I might be an animal doctor, but I still know how to use a scalpel on your testicles if you even think of tricking me into going to a haunted house.”

“You don’t like haunted houses?”

“No.”

“That sudden chainsaw sound doesn’t rev your engines?”

“Don’t make me use your middle name.”

Fuck, that’s a legitimate threat. “It’s nothing any scarier than being alone with me for an hour,” I promise her with a brow wiggle.

We head inside, and she goes from suspicious to amused. “Are you serious? The keys make total sense now.”

“I picked the zoo theme,” I tell her on our way to the check-in desk.

And then I crack up at the scowl she gives me.

“Okay, okay, I didn’t pick the zoo-themed room. But you’re gonna love what I did pick.”

We get to the check-in desk, and the dark-haired woman behind the desk gives me a once-over.

And not the good kind of once-over.

Nope, this woman’s wearing the frown of pretty much every Thrusters fan I’ve met this season. “Murphy…Murphy…Murphy…” she murmurs as she scrolls through the computer. “Oh, right. There you are. You can join your group over there.”

She points to a ragtag bunch in overalls sitting on benches lining the opposite wall in the lobby. Their scowls don’t entirely mesh with the black tile floor and gray walls covered with huge posters of the various escape room themes.

“No, I had a private reservation,” I tell her.

“We’re going to need to search you for contraband animals,” she adds.

Kami turns around and coughs into her elbow, but I’m pretty sure she’s actually laughing, which is the only thing keeping me from getting irritated with the receptionist. “We’re in our own room, right? Just the two of us?”

She shakes her head. “Your reservation is for a group event with that family right there.”

Fuck. “What other rooms do you have available tonight?”

“They’re all booked.”

She flashes a diabolical smile. No point in asking to talk to the manager.

She is the manager.

“All of them are booked?” I ask.

Kami squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. We’ll make new friends.”

I look across the way again and realize one of the older guys in overalls is glaring at a younger guy with earbuds in, who’s scowling back like he hopes the lights go out and our escape room experience turns into a live-action version of Clue.

I’m about to suggest we skip it when Kami adds in a whisper, “I have bad date karma. It’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I had a date with an old guy who kept grabbing my ass two weeks ago. And then that…thing…with someone we all used to know that you’re not allowed to think about. And then Muffy set me up with her neighbor, who is super hot, but it turned out he needed a date to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding to his boss, and I mean old guy boss, and we all got thrown out because… that’s not important. The point is, I think I just have bad date karma.”

My blood pressure is rising by the millisecond as I think about all the other men who’ve been within kissing distance of Kami since her birthday.

“Or Muffy’s a really bad matchmaker,” I point out with a scowl. “You’re with me. This is supposed to be a good date.”

“It could be, if you don’t act like a spoiled child.”

Now the receptionist is having a coughing fit.

A woman in a black T-shirt with a name badge around her neck steps out from behind one of the doors leading to the escape rooms.

“Wankers and Murphy?” a voice calls.

Kami and I both do a double-take and simultaneously choke on snorts as the entire contingency of overall-clad guys—and token woman in jeans, boots, and a sweater—all stand.

“I’ve got the Wankers,” the woman announces.

“Oh my god, Nick, we have to,” Kami whispers. “How often do you get to spend a first date with a bunch of Wankers?”

I can’t talk because I’m still choking on snorts, so when the woman calls, “Murphy?” again, Kami tugs my hand and pulls me toward her.

“We’re here,” she says. “Sorry. My boyfriend inhaled some dust. He has breathing problems sometimes. It’s a congenital condition.”

I should be threatening to pay her back later, but seeing her eyes sparkle and shine like that—she can make up stories about me anytime she wants.

I wouldn’t even care if she said I had a small dick, because first of all, she knows better, and second of all, so long as she likes my dick, I don’t really care what anyone else thinks.

Especially if she keeps calling me her boyfriend. I’m more like a full-grown man-friend with fucking awesome cock skills, but I can work with boyfriend. But only if it’s Kami calling me that.

I put extra effort into pretending I’m hacking up a lung, because it’s what I’m supposed to do, and I’m going to be the best fucking boyfriend to ever walk the earth.

Bonus, Kami rubs my back and uses her free hand to grip my arm like she needs to guide me.

Fuck, I missed her touching me. The things we take for granted, man.

We’re led down a long hallway and into the prep room. I did one of these escape room things with the team just before training camp started, so I pretty much know how it goes. Kami’s listening with rapt attention while our hostess explains how to find clues and how much time we have to figure out the combination on the lock out of the control room before we lose the game.

“If we lose, it’s the Johnson-Wankers’ fault,” the old guy grumbles.

“Shove it, old man,” the younger guy with one earbud popped out replies.

Kami’s lips twitch, but you have to be looking close to see it. The hostess asks if anyone needs to use the bathroom one last time before we’re all locked into our room for an hour, and Kami nudges me.

“I’m good,” I whisper.

“You have a respiratory problem,” she whispers back, so softly no one else can hear. “Count to five and cough. You have to sell this.”

She pecks my cheek while the old guy grumbles about how stupid this is and the woman—his daughter, maybe? Or granddaughter?—forces a bright smile. “It’s been thirty years. We’re going to bond, we’re going to get out of this room together, and we’re going to let this all fucking go. Or else you’ll never see Alex and me again.”

For the first time, Kami frowns. “Do you all need to do this alone?”

“No,” the left half of the group answers while the right half all reply, “Yes.”

I fake a coughing fit.

“Are you smart?” one of the middle-aged men asks Kami.

“She’s a doctor,” I answer for her. My voice is raspy, and she scoots closer to me while she shivers.

I’m no expert in shivers, but I think that was a she likes my voice like this shiver.

“An animal doctor,” she explains. “Not an astrophysicist or anything.”

“Good enough. I’m John. My brothers, Joe, Jim, and Jake, and Jake’s son, Alex, who’s not smart at all. You’re on our team and I’ll give you half a cow if you can get us the hell out of here in fifteen minutes or less.”

“Aren’t we all on the same team?” Kami asks, ignoring the half-a-cow thing.

“No,” all but the woman and Alex answer.

“I don’t team up with Johnson-Wankers,” the old man mutters.

“I’m Jordan,” the woman tells us, “and this is my dad, Jeremiah, and his brother, Jerry.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. I’m just calling them the J-squad. Numbering them might be easier.

Kami’s lips twitch again. “I’m Kami. This is Nick. He’ll be mostly useless thanks to the respiratory issues, but he’s often lucky, so there’s that working to our advantage.”

She pats my back again.

So maybe I’m not going to get to make out with her in the magic escape room, but despite the lingering ache in my dick, I don’t mind.

She said I get lucky.

I can have patience.

“Great, so now you all know each other, and the rules, and how to hit the panic button,” our hostess says brightly, “let’s go rescue some kittens in space.”

Groans and mutters of “Some what?” go through the room.

Except for Kami.

She tips her head back and laughs while she claps her hands. “You’re amazing,” she tells me, and I just grin.

I could block six thousand pucks in this moment.

Lavoie’s right.

I’ve got it bad.

Our hostess herds us into the actual escape room, tells us to look for our first clue “in outer space,” and pulls the door shut behind her.

“What the ever-loving fresh hell is this?” the old dude, officially now known as Cranky Grandpa, says as he looks around. Guy would’ve gotten along great with my Gammy.

“We have to rescue the kittens from the Gooz, and then escape the ship within an hour,” Jordan tells the J-men of Team Wanker. “Start looking for clues!”

She rushes to the captain’s chair and controls set up in the middle of the fifteen-by-fifteen room. Half the walls are windows to outer space which would only be cooler if they were lit by a projector and the stars were actually moving. I make a mental note to do this right if I ever buy an escape room company when I retire.

Of the remaining two walls, one’s lined with a control panel of buttons and screens and chairs at the long counter, and the other is painted with cells holding kittens in space suits.

That cat at the shelter was fucking adorable today.

I should go back. Just to visit.

And take Kami.

Except she gets to see little animals all day long. Maybe she doesn’t want to go.

“Where’s that panic button?” Cranky Grandpa mutters.

“If you hit that panic button without even trying to find a clue, I’ll hide all your reading glasses and I’ll steal your chickens,” Alex announces.

Kami and I share a look, and we both head for the control panel along the far wall. “We have to find the keys to the holding cell and also crack the code to make sure there aren’t any Gooz guards between us and the kittens,” Kami says.

“I’ll beat them up for you,” I offer while I squat under the control panel and search for clues.

“But the noise might attract the Grand Gooz Emperor.”

“No wonder he can’t block a puck. He’s fucking nuts,” one of the J-Wankers mutters.

Kami rolls her eyes. “So you’re fighting over chickens?” she asks while she picks up the keyboards and looks under them.

“That dickhead shaved penises into my cows,” Cranky Grandpa replies, pointing at the oldest of the Johnson-Wankers. “My prize cows. Right before I took them to auction.”

“Thirty years ago,” Alex sing-songs.

“He wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t have a tiny pecker,” the Johnson-Wanker with the earbuds says.

“If I had shaved penises into your cow, you would’ve deserved it for stealing Ma’s chickens,” the J-Wanker who apparently is denying his involvement says.

“Wait, are you all cousins?” Kami asks suddenly. She points between Jordan and Alex. “And you’re…involved?”

“I’m adopted,” Alex tells her.

“You’re just as much a Johnson-Wanker as the rest of us,” one of the J-men says.

“They always hid him from view of Grandpa’s farm. We met in the engineering department at school,” Jordan explains. She smiles at him, and he smiles back with a blush.

“They’re getting married over my dead body,” Cranky Grandpa announces.

“They’ve been feuding for thirty years,” Jordan tells us with an exasperated sigh. “Before I was even born. It started with the cows and chickens and now they all think the others are sabotaging their tractors and contaminating their seed. If they don’t call a truce, Alex and I are moving to Italy.”

“I hear the gelato’s good,” I offer.

Kami gives me the wrong answer eyeball.

“I have a cow?” I correct.

“You a farmer in your spare time?” one of them asks. Fuck, I can’t remember which side of the feud that guy’s on. Whatever.

I shake my head. “Nah. Got pranked. Almost lost Kami over it. Really sucked. But the cow’s cute. I ordered her this special harness with unicorn cows on it for when we go for walks.”

Every last J-man—including Cranky Grandpa—gives me identical you’re a fucking nutjob eyeballs.

“Aww, they agree on something,” Kami murmurs. “We’re doing a good deed on our date. Go, us.” She stops, and a wide grin spreads over her face. “Oh my gosh, I think I found a clue!”

She flips over the keyboard, and there’s an envelope taped to the bottom.

“You got yourself a meat cow or a milk cow?” Cranky Grandpa asks me.

“She’s a pet,” I reply. “I moved back home with my parents so we can live together all the time.”

Kami’s trying to read the new clue, but her lips are wobbling.

“Fucking dumbass,” one of the J-men mutters.

“Oh, no!” Kami announces dramatically. She throws the back of her hand to her forehead and collapses to the floor in mock horror. “No, it can’t be!”

“What? What?” Jordan exclaims.

“The kittens…” Kami pauses dramatically, and dude. She’s a terrible actress. But fuck if watching her get into it isn’t spreading warm goopy happiness all through my chest. “They’re going…to be… gassed!”

“Noooo!” Jordan cries equally dramatically. “How do we stop it?”

Alex and I share a look, and if I think I have it bad, that guy’s so whipped he probably can’t put his own shoes on without asking permission.

You fucking go, dude.

“Where’s that fucking panic button?” Cranky Grandpa says again.

One of the J-men that I think is on his side holds him back. “Hey, Jordan’s having fun. Stop it.”

“We’re going to enter a talent show,” I tell the men. “Me and Sugarbear. My cow, I mean. She can tap-dance.”

“At least she’s not marrying this weirdo,” another of the guys mutters to Cranky Grandpa.

“We have to find the switch to disable the poison chambers,” Kami announces.

“There are switches here!” Jordan points to all the controllers at the console next to the captain’s chair in the middle of the room, and both women dive for them and start flipping switches.

“Alex, go help Nick,” Jordan hisses.

Her fiancé dutifully obeys. “They tried to get me to stink bomb the old man’s house last year,” he mutters to me. “Assholes, all of them. You really weird about the cow?”

Considering a cow to be a dog isn’t weird, is it? “Only so long as it makes Kami happy.” I raise my voice. “Yeah, dude. They make tap-dancing shoes for cows. It’s a specialty shop on the internet. You want, I can send you the link.”

Cranky Grandpa’s watching us. Pretty sure Alex knows it too. He claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s keep looking for that switch to stop the poison from the kittens, man.”

“Kami, you think we could get Sugarbear on ice skates?” I call.

“It really could be worse,” one of the J-men is saying to Cranky Grandpa.

“Nick, sweetie, just keep looking for clues,” Kami says.

We share a look, and I am so getting laid for this tonight. “Anything for you, hot stuff.”

She sucks in another smile, and we all go back to looking for the next clue while the older generations of Wankers and Johnson-Wankers glare at all of us.

I definitely owe Kami a make-up date.

And I can’t wait to pay up.