The Defender: A Single Dad Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey) Page 9

  This isn’t a date, right?

  No, of course not. It’s just two people with a shared loss connecting.

  Friends who flirt grabbing a midweek bite. It’s casual.

  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t spend extra time blowing out my hair. Or adding a swipe of lipstick and mascara when I’m usually makeup free. And I did try on two, ahem, three different shirts before settling on a white, long-sleeve shirt, with a deep V-neck. I pair it with tight, ripped black skinny jeans and sexy, over-the-knee, black boots.

  Studying myself in the mirror, I admit I’m balancing that casual/dressy vibe pretty spectacularly. I laugh, my gaze flicking up to my face. My eyes don’t look as haunted as they usually do. I almost look…excited.

  When James reenters the house after dropping the twins at school, I’m already waiting in the living room. His eyes widen and the corners of his mouth tip up in appreciation.

  “You clean up well, Andrews.” His tone is teasing but his expression heats and I revel in the compliment.

  I lift my chin at him, taking in his ripped jeans and a light gray Henley under his open coat. I swear, dads didn’t dress like this when I was younger. If they did, I would have totally been into older men. “You do too, Ryan.”

  James holds out his hand and I hesitate for an instant before taking it. He grips my hand lightly, swinging our arms as he helps me into my coat and leads me out of the house. When he turns to lock up, he drops my hand and I curl it into a ball.

  Is he just being friendly? Or is this more than that? Did we already cross the line between friends and something more? Or are we hovering at the edge, about to cross over?

  It’s been so long since I’ve done this, I don’t know what signs I’m supposed to look for. Am I reading this right?

  “You okay?” James asks me, appearing totally normal while I’m kind of freaking out inside.

  “Yep.” I smile too brightly.

  James gives me a look before unlocking the doors on his SUV. We slip inside the car and he eases it out of the driveway.

  “How do you feel about Meg’s Diner?” he asks.

  “Oh, I love their waffles.” I settle back against the seat, some of my nerves dissipating now that I know we’re headed to the casual, corner diner I frequent.

  “Yeah, so does Mase.” James glances at me. “I want you to know that it’s okay to take time for yourself. Now that we’re past the initial transition, we’ll work something out so you have more time off.”

  “Ah.” I wave a hand, a flare of panic blazing in my chest. I don’t want time off. Time alone means thoughts and what-ifs and more reflection on my failures. Time off means more sessions with Dr. Carlisle.

  “I couldn’t have survived the past two months without you.”

  “You would have figured it out, James.”

  “It wouldn’t have been nearly as painless as you’ve made everything.”

  “It’s fine. It’s my job.”

  “No.” He shakes his head, taking a left turn. “You go above and beyond your job. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

  “Is that why you’re taking me for waffles?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood and get a read on him as he pulls into the parking lot.

  “Nope,” he says again, parking. He turns to face me fully, his eyes serious. “I’m taking you for waffles because I’ve done a shit job looking after you.”

  “It’s not your job to look after me,” I murmur, my voice almost a whisper.

  James holds my gaze. I feel the crackle of electricity between us, more intense now than it was in the house. He reaches out slowly, his hand wrapping around my wrist. “What if I want to? I know I said friends but…I think of you a hell of a lot more than I should.”

  “Wh-what?” I stutter, my heart rate suddenly jumping into my eardrums. Did I hear him correctly?

  James wooshes out a heavy exhale. “I like being with you, Bella. You make me laugh even when I don’t feel like it. I thought having you nanny for my kids would be awkward after everything that went down between us.”

  I flush, closing my eyes for a beat as I recall sneaking out of that hotel room.

  “Look at me, please.” He squeezes my wrist.

  I force my eyes open and my breath freezes in my throat as I get a good look at his expression. Warm brown eyes, mouth pressed in a line. James is serious, straightforward. He doesn’t play bullshit mind games or say one thing and do another. What you see is what you get and suddenly, I’m so grateful for that, I could cry.

  “I think of you when I’m not with you. I trust you with my children. I feel better knowing that you’re looking after them. But last night…fuck, Bella. Seeing you sad wrecked me and I realized, who the hell is looking after you?”

  “You’re not supposed to take that on,” I remind him.

  “But I can’t not worry about you. After Mason got sick”—he winces, recalling the awful stretch of days where time seemed to stop and we scurried around each other like strangers—“I know I was an idiot. But the whole time I was putting space between us, I was thinking about you. What you were doing. How you were feeling. I don’t know how to do this, Bella.” He glances at where he’s holding my wrist. “I don’t know how to be with a woman anymore. Not after so many years and not after so much…loss.”

  “I don’t know how to do this either,” I admit.

  “But do you want to?” he asks, his eyes flipping back to mine. Melted chocolate and hot cocoa and heat.

  I swipe my tongue over my dry lips and James zeroes in on the movement. Slowly, I nod. “I left that night because I got scared.”

  He frowns. “Scared?”

  “Yeah.” I let out a small laugh. “I was way out of my league with you. I was embarrassed too, knowing you’d wake up in the morning and regret it. Wish I was…someone else. I’m damaged goods.”

  “I could never regret being with you. You’re perfect,” he refutes, a flare of anger in his eyes. “Don’t say that about yourself, Bella. The ones with the damaged hearts are the ones that life happened to. You’d be hell-bent to meet someone worth connecting with nowadays who wasn’t a little bit tarnished by life’s heartaches.”

  “I know.”

  “So you really weren’t just ghosting me because of the sex?” he asks.

  My mouth drops open. “Is that what you think?” I snort, shaking my head. “Jesus, James. In one night, you flipped my world upside down. I had no idea sex could be that…intense. And then, with a stranger no less. You really thought I left because—”

  “It wasn’t good,” he finishes my thought.

  I groan, pushing my head back into the headrest. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “Neither is you beating yourself up so badly,” he replies, reaching over to place a hand on my leg.

  I glance down, liking the weight of his hand on my thigh. “So this…” I glance out the window toward Meg’s Diner.

  “This is me wanting you to know that I’m here for you. That I’m thinking about you. As more than friends but always friends first. That I’m willing to do whatever you want and if you don’t want to do anything, that’s fine too. But I’ll still be looking out, Bella. I can’t not worry about you.”

  I smile slowly, feeling his words warm places that have been frozen for too long. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he agrees, flipping off the ignition. “Waffles?”

  “Yes, please,” I say, exiting the SUV.

  We walk toward Meg’s and James holds the door open for me.

  We’re seated at a corner booth and when the server comes by, we order Belgian waffles and strong coffee.

  It’s the best non-date I’ve ever been on and my favorite Tuesday of all time.

  9

  James

  I slide across the ice, my gaze wandering up to the team’s family and friends’ booth. I can’t stop the grin that splits my face when I see Bella sitting up there, laughing at whatever Mason is saying. Milly waves to me and I kiss
my fingers before extending them toward her. She does the same back.

  It’s something Layla and I used to do before the puck drop at home games. My body relaxes some now that Milly has picked up her mom’s tradition. Maia brought the kids to a handful of my home games last season but the loss of their mom was still too fresh. They would fall into long periods of silence after each game that I stopped asking if they wanted to come.

  Mason surprised me yesterday when he asked if he and Milly could bring Bella to a game. “I think she’d like it, Dad,” he said seriously.

  I grinned at my little heartbreaker and agreed. I love how much the twins care for Bella. The three of them have their own relationship and while I thought I’d feel left out, instead, I’m often relieved that Milly and Mason have connected so strongly with Bella.

  That’s why now, when I look up, three of my favorite people are rocking my number and dancing in their seats. Indy, Claire, and Chloe are also in the booth and I know Bella and the twins are in good hands. Mase waves and I wink, smirking at Bella, before taking my position.

  “It’s good to have them back,” Noah says to me over his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” I agree, my gaze darting back to the booth for one more look. This time, my attention is snagged by Bella. She left her dark hair loose and it tumbles down her jersey and around her shoulders. Her eyes looks brighter, bolder, fringed by long lashes.

  A bolt of excitement shoots through me. I like that she’s here. I want her to watch me play. It’s ridiculous really but I suddenly feel like a college kid again, wanting to impress the girl I was crushing on with my moves on the ice. I should already know it’s my moves off the ice that count but that old, competitive mindset, with the need to show off for a woman, flares to life.

  I shift into my stance moments before the puck drops. My mind clears, my body tightens, and my play takes over. I focus all of my energy, all of my drive, on the game.

  It’s necessary because Vancouver comes to play. The game is intense, just bordering on nasty, with a couple hard hits and under-the-belt roughness.

  In the third period, all hell breaks out when one of the Eagles’ players, Jace Edwards, skates by chirping off, “You gonna put a ring on it or just knock her up, Scotch? Don’t you think your daughter deserves more?”

  Shit. Noah’s expression changes in an instant and I understand it immediately. Jace is talking shit about his woman, about the mother of his child, and there’s no way Noah is going to let that slide. Plus, fuck Jace for bringing Emmaline into it.

  My limbs lock down and anger blazes through me. Talking shit is one thing but you don’t involve a man’s family. Ever. So when Noah pulls back his arm and lets a jab fly, I jump into the mix. I grapple with their center until he’s got a bloody nose and I can feel the side of my jaw swelling up.

  “Shit,” East mutters amid the ref’s whistles. He pulls me back by the neck of my jersey, shaking his head. “Let me see your face.”

  I spit out a wad of blood before I catch Noah’s eye. Even though Scotch looks fucking murderous, when he sees my expression, he grins. I smirk back. Then we both start laughing and Easton swears again.

  “Scotch! Ryan!” Coach Phillips bellows from the bench.

  I skate over and try to school my expression. Damn, I shouldn’t be laughing. But it felt good to step up for my teammate, for his family. It was the right thing to do in the moment and it’s exactly the kind of reaction I would have had if someone said shit about Layla. Or Bella.

  Bella! What the hell will she think of my fighting?

  Layla used to call me a hothead when we first met but a lot of my reactionary tendencies wore off the longer we were together, especially after we had the twins.

  The twins. My stomach sinks and I turn to look in the stands. I’m prepared to meet their horrified or disappointed expressions. Instead, Mason’s fist pumping and Milly’s bouncing in her seat. She flashes me a thumbs-up. At that, Bella laughs and I smile and we have a quick conversation through our eyes.

  Nice hit, hers say.

  Thanks. Glad you’re not pissed.

  Nah, he deserved it.

  “Ryan!” Coach snaps again. I turn back to the team, take my scolding in stride, and get back on the ice.

  “I fucking hate Edwards,” Scotch mutters to me. “Thanks, man.”

  “Got your back, Scotch,” I reply. “Now let’s finish this.”

  The team goes all in for the final period and Noah scores a buzzer beater, securing our win of 3-2. He flips Edwards off and by the shit-eating grin on his face, I know the win must feel even better.

  The team slaps his back in congratulations and we head to the locker room to celebrate. I always hate playing the Eagles. They’re notorious for shit talking and last season, Noah got into it with Edwards too.

  “Coming to Taps?” Sims asks, as I leave the shower.

  “Nah, man. Going home to my family.”

  “I saw the kids in the booth. What’re they gonna think of their old man fighting?”

  I snort. “You always protect your team,” I tell him. It’s something I explained early on to Milly and Mason. While Layla tried to instill them with the good sense to do the right thing, to use their words instead of their fists, I tacked on that sometimes, fists are necessary. That you always protect your own—family, friends, teammates. No matter what.

  I mean, I definitely don’t want my kids to see me fighting. I don’t want them to think I’m a hothead either. But I do want them to know the importance of sticking up for the people you care about.

  Sims nods slowly, thinking that over. “Good game, Ryan.”

  “You too, kid.” I close my locker and shoulder my bag. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Have a good one.”

  I wave to the guys and say my farewells before heading out of the locker room. My grin splits my face the second I spot Bella and the twins.

  “Daddy!” my kids shout, racing toward me. Bella hangs back, offering up a shy smile that I return.

  My arms wrap around my little rascals who pepper me with questions, mostly about my fight with the Eagles player.

  “You busted him good, Dad. His nose bled,” Mase says seriously.

  Bella frowns over his head but I chuckle, seeing the same disapproving look that Layla used to give.

  I drop my bag and squat down in front of my kids. “You should never start a fight,” I tell them seriously. “But if one of your people, your friends, your family members, each other”—I gesture between them—“is in trouble and a fight breaks out then—”

  “You finish it,” my kids say in unison.

  “Yep,” I agree, grinning at Bella’s eye roll. “Just don’t let Bella catch you.” I stand up.

  Bella swats at me and I laugh, catching her hand and pulling her toward me. “You’re not going to congratulate me on not getting my ass handed to me? You know, I could have been that Eagles’ player’s dad,” I joke.

  She rolls her eyes again but this time, it’s playful. She bites back her smile but her eyes blaze with amusement. After weeks of witnessing her hurt, it’s pretty damn nice to see merriment in her gaze.

  “Some dad, encouraging his kids to fight,” she mutters.

  I laugh, tossing an arm around her shoulders and steering my little family toward the parking lot. I note the curious way Claire glances at me and the interest in Indy’s eyes as I pass them. I tip my chin in their direction and they both wave hello.

  For a second, a flare of unease rolls through me. Will they know Bella and I are a thing? Is it too soon? Will they judge it? But then I spot Chloe and the sincere happiness in her expression, the warmth in her hello, eases some of my worry.

  Of course my teammates, and their women, will be happy for me. Bella and I aren’t doing anything wrong. We’re friends. We’re more than friends. We’re…us. I don’t need to label it. I don’t need to explain it. I just need to be here for it. For her.

  I pull her closer into my side and she shoots me a gla
nce. I smile at her. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

  “You played one hell of a game,” she admits and I laugh.

  “Here.” Bella tosses me a bag of frozen peas after tucking the twins into bed.

  I lift an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Put it on your jaw. Maybe it’ll help the swelling.”

  “He didn’t hit that hard.”

  She snorts and shakes her head. “Please? Do it for me. I hate seeing the bruise.” She wrinkles her nose.

  My mouth drops open. “Bella Andrews, is that concern I detect in your voice? And here I thought you were disapproving of my parenting style.”

  “You shouldn’t tell the kids to fight,” she retorts, plopping down next to me on the couch and kicking her feet up on the coffee table.

  “I didn’t. I told them to finish it,” I explain, holding the peas to my face. Not that I’d admit it but it feels good against my hot skin.

  “Same difference. But I get it,” she adds after a minute. “You’re a team. What did that guy say to Scotch anyway?”

  I fill her in on the details, loving how her expression morphs from skeptical to outrage. “He mentioned his daughter? Emmaline?”

  I nod. “See, I had to get involved.”

  “Yes, you did,” she agrees, crossing her arms and huffing out a huge breath.

  I chuckle. “You’re cute when you’re heated, Bella.”

  She looks up quickly, her lips parting.

  I know she’s thrown by me calling her cute. To be honest, for a second, so am I. But it’s the truth. She’s adorable, petite and tiny, getting all worked up on behalf of one of my friends. Her cheeks blush a delicious shade of pink and her eyes widen, shimmering when they’re usually clouded over. Bright and open when I’m used to seeing hurt and emptiness.

  A thrill rocks through me. I could look away. I could scoot over on the couch. I should let her take the lead and set the tone for whatever comes next. Instead, I raise my hand to cup the side of her face. “You’re not just cute. You’re beautiful, Bella.”