“Of all the things we’ve done to help a teammate get some ass,” Henny said, “this is definitely the craziest.”

Roscoe clamped a hand around the back of Henny’s neck. “This has nothing to do with getting ass. Say it with me, just so we’re clear.”

“This has nothing to do with getting ass,” Henny parroted.

From his other side, Dunn chimed in. “But if our boy doesn’t get some after this—”

“Seriously?” Roscoe smacked them both. “We’re almost at the door. Pull yourselves together.”

The two of them were laughing their balls off, but Roscoe was nervous as hell. Why the fuck had he brought them along? Ally had asked him for a little moral support with this whole Reggie and Nick thing, and Roscoe had every intention of handling it on his own. But then he’d made the mistake of telling the guys that Nick had asked Reggie out, and of course they pounced.

Roscoe never should’ve opened his big dumb mouth.

Hindsight, man. What a waste.

Roscoe jammed his finger into the bell, shooting a final glare at his boys. Seconds later, Ally opened the door, clearly shocked to find three of the Tempest’s starting lineup standing on her front porch.

“I brought backup,” Roscoe said, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I should’ve called first.”

“No, it’s totally fine!” Ally beamed, and Roscoe blew out a breath. God, she was beautiful. God, he wanted to knock the guys off the porch, scoop Ally up in his arms, and carry her right inside to her bedroom…

“I’m Kyle Henderson,” Henny said, shattering Roscoe’s fantasy. “Henny. And this is Walker Dunn.”

The guys, whose huge frames took up the entire space of the porch, held out their hands to shake.

“Oh, I met your mother, Walker,” Ally said warmly.

Dunn smiled at her. “I heard all about it. She keeps asking when you’ll come around again.”

“Tell her I have to stock up on boinkers first,” Ally said.

At this, Henny snorted. The grown-ass man actually snorted. Roscoe shot him another glare that he hoped conveyed his most intimate thoughts—namely: I’m going to murder you in your sleep and make it look like an accident.

“Ally?” a woman’s voice called out. “Is that LeGrand?”

Roscoe cocked his head. He knew that voice. His balls knew that voice. Like Pavlov’s fucking dog, they shrunk on command.

“Clarissa’s here?” he asked.

“She insisted. Reggie’s first date and all.” Ally wrinkled her nose, opening the door wider and gesturing the men inside, where Clarissa stepped into the foyer with a glass of wine in hand.

“LeGrand, Dunn, and Henderson,” she said. “The three amigos. Fancy meeting you here.”

“More like weird,” Reggie said, stepping into the entryway behind Clarissa. She blinked up at the three beasts at her front door, her eyes going from curious to concerned in a flash. “Oh, no! Did we have something on the calendar today? I didn’t… I’m so sorry. I could get my skates, and—shoot, I should text Nick. I don’t think he—”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Roscoe said, offering a smile. He’d hoped Ally might tell her that he’d be coming by, but apparently she’d wanted the element of surprise. Poor kid had no idea what she was in for. “Though I appreciate your dedication to the game.”

Reggie nodded. Her hair, which was normally shoved under her helmet or matted to her head from a hard practice, was slicked back in a high ponytail that curled at the ends. One eye was all done up with pink eyeshadow and black eyeliner that made her look about twenty years old, and she had some kind of torture device in her hand that Roscoe thought had something to do with eyelashes. Or maybe it was a curling iron? Or possibly a can opener. What the fuck did he know?

“So… What are you guys doing here?” Reggie asked.

All three men answered at once.

Roscoe: “We were in the neighborhood—”

Dunn: “Your mom—”

Henny: “Harper needs his ass whooped.”

“You’re… You guys are joking, right?” Reggie’s eyes widened. In a blur, she spun around to face Ally, threatening to erupt. “Tell me you didn’t hire my hockey coaches to go all good-cop, bad-cop on Nick. Because if you did, oh my God, you are such a traitor, and I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Honey, it’s not a big deal.” Ally’s tone was calm and gentle, but Roscoe could’ve sworn she was biting back a smile. After all her worrying about Reggie on the ice, and all Reggie’s stubborn-headed ways, Roscoe got the feeling Ally was enjoying this little power play. “They’re here to see you kids off tonight, just like Aunt Clarissa.”

Reggie rolled her eyes. “Right. Because that’s normal.”

“Would you rather cancel your plans?” Ally asked, her tone suddenly cool. Roscoe was relieved he wasn’t on the receiving end of that iciness—damn, his woman could probably give Clarissa a run for her ball-busting money. “I’m sure Nick could find another girl to ask to the movies. Maybe someone older than fifteen, or someone who doesn’t have a mother and an aunt and a coach who all care about her and want to be sure she’s ready for the responsibility and privilege of dating.”

“Two coaches who care,” Dunn piped up.

Henny grinned. “And one who’s just looking for a reason to give Harper a hard time.”

“This is so unfair,” Reggie grumbled, but the kid was clearly out of her element here.

Shooting a final death glare at Ally, Reggie stomped up the stairs to finish getting ready, and Ally invited Roscoe and crew to settle into the living room while she got drinks. Clarissa had already staked out a prime position in the armchair.

“So this is a group thing, then?” Roscoe asked, taking up one end of an L-shaped sofa. Dunn and Henny filled out the rest.

Clarissa laughed. “You’re the one who brought the calvary.”

“I didn’t bring you, though,” he said.

“I’m just here to make sure you boys stay out of trouble.” Clarissa made a swirling motion with her finger, pointing at each of them in turn. “When you three get together off the ice, bad things happen. Very bad things.”

Fucking Clarissa. Roscoe figured Ally had finally confessed their relationship to Clarissa that day at practice—he’d seen them sitting together during the media dog-and-pony show. He could only imagine what she’d told Ally about him—about his past indiscretions, his reasons for getting involved in the youth clinic in the first place. Then again, Ally hadn’t given him the boot yet, so that had to count for something.

Still. Fucking Clarissa.

“I’m sure we all feel a lot safer now that the fun police are here,” Roscoe said.

“Fun police?” Clarissa laughed, but it wasn’t a happy one. “After the year you’ve had, you’re lucky Gallagher hired a PR firm and not a parole officer.”

Roscoe gritted his teeth, biting back a retort. She may have been the Ball Buster in Chief to Roscoe and the boys, but she was also Ally’s best friend, which meant there had to be something good in that shriveled-up heart of hers.

“God, I need a new job,” Henny said, blowing out a breath. “No offense, but this is all starting to feel like a big fat circle-jerk.”

“Maybe you need different friends?” Clarissa suggested.

“Speaking of circle-jerks,” Roscoe said, shooting a pointed glare at Clarissa, “anyone seen Kenton today?”

Clarissa lowered her eyes and shifted in her seat, but didn’t say a word.

Finally found the magic words to shut her the hell up. Score!

“I’m sorry to drag you guys into this.” Ally emerged from the kitchen with a few beers and a tray of chips and salsa. “This is just something I’d always assumed her dad would do, you know? Suss out the boys, make sure their intentions were honorable.”

“Oh, they’re never honorable,” Henny said, reaching for a beer and twisting off the cap. “You gotta know that going in.”

Roscoe elbowed him. “Not all of us are mouth-breathing meatheads.”

Clarissa snorted.

“Yeah we are,” Henny said. “Especially at that age.”

“Gotta go with Hen on this one,” Dunn said. “As far as teenaged girls are concerned, there’s no such thing as a nice guy.”

Ally slumped into a chair next to Roscoe’s side of the couch, her eyebrows pinched together tightly. She looked like she was about to be sick.

“Don’t listen to them,” Roscoe said. Instinctively he reached for her knee, but then remembered Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb on the couch next to him, and knew they’d make a big deal out of it. So he gave her an awkward shoulder punch instead. “Just leave it to us, Al. We’ll set the boy straight.”

Ally nodded stiffly, reaching for a chip from the tray she’d set on the coffee table. She tried to laugh at Dunn and Henny’s jokes, tried to chat with Clarissa, tried to smile when Roscoe caught her eye, but she was nervous as hell. She’d been nibbling on the same chip for ten straight minutes when the doorbell finally rang.

Ally looked like she’d just seen a ghost.

“I got it.” Roscoe rose from the couch. “You guys sit tight.”

He headed into the foyer just as Reggie bolted down the stairs.

“Easy there, freight train.” Roscoe stopped her in her tracks two steps before the bottom. She was almost eye-level there, and he could see she’d put on the rest of her makeup, added a little more eyeliner. She was trying to look so grown up, but to Roscoe, she still seemed so young, so innocent.

He felt a little kick to his heart that went beyond the feelings of a concerned coach looking out for one of his players. In their time together on the ice, he’d really come to care for Reggie, both as a player and as Ally’s daughter. He wanted her to be okay. To not let anything bad happen to her.

“Um, Roscoe?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes to see past him. “Can I get the door?”

“No.” Resting his giant hands on her shoulders, Roscoe looked her square in the eyes. “Don’t rush this, forty-four. Let sixty-one sweat it out.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Isn’t that kind of rude?”

“Not in this situation. You don’t want him to think you’re too excited to see him.”

“But I am excited,” she said, bouncing on her toes. “Nick is, like, basically amazing. Not only is he awesome at hockey, but he’s really funny. And sweet. And I really, really like him. Okay?” She beamed, despite the fact that Roscoe was blocking her way. God, she looked happy.

Harper, if you hurt her…

“Nick doesn’t need to know you feel that way,” Roscoe said. “Let him wonder a bit. Trust me on that.”

“You guys are being weird.”

“Humor us. We’re old and our hearts are frail.”

Reggie rolled her eyes. Unlike her mother’s eyes, Reggie’s were bright blue, but the gesture was almost identical. “So, do I look okay? Is this too casual? I can’t trust Mom to give me an honest opinion. If she had her way, I’d be wearing a turtleneck and baggy pants.”

Roscoe smiled. She had on jeans and some kind of tight sparkly shirt with flowers and sequins on it. Roscoe had no idea how teenagers dressed for dates these days, but one thing was certain: “You need a sweater, kiddo.”

“Oh, great. You’re channeling Mom.” Reggie sighed. “It’s summer.”

“Sure, but once the sun goes down—”

“It will be ten o’clock, and I’ll be home already. My curfew is nine-thirty.”

The doorbell rang again. Reggie looked like she was about to explode.

“Just a sec,” Roscoe called out toward the door. Then, to Reggie, he said, “What did I say about humoring a few old guys? Go upstairs and get a sweater. Double-check your hair or something.”

“Why?” Her hands flew to her hair. “Is it bad?”

“No, that’s not… Look. Just give me a few minutes to talk to Nick. Can you do that for me?”

Reggie sighed. “Can you promise not to go too hard on him? To be nice and not super weird or embarrassing?”

“I think I can manage that,” he said.

“Fine.” Reggie huffed, but she was smiling as she turned around and bounded back up the stairs.

Roscoe watched her go, her ponytail swishing across her shoulders, and that thing in his heart jerked again. She reminded him of his sister, Lena, back when she’d endured the same kind of first-date torture they were subjecting Reggie to now. Reggie reminded him of his nephews, too—of how much love he had for them, how every new addition to his ever-growing family had filled his heart nearly to bursting, only for another kid to come along and make it grow even larger, even fuller. Roscoe had never known how boundless the human capacity for love was until his siblings had started blessing him with nephews and nieces.

And then he’d met Ally and Reggie, and his heart had expanded even more.

He could only imagine what it would be like to have his own children one day.

Before Roscoe could go too far down the road to his imaginary happily ever after, the bell rang again.

Squaring his shoulders, Roscoe stepped down the stairs and reached for the front door. He wrenched it open to find a very surprised, very confused, and slightly startled boy staring up at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“Um… Roscoe?” Nick asked.

“Nick Harper.” Roscoe grinned, folding his arms across his chest. “We need to talk.”