Puck Daddy

“Faith, this needs to be quick. I’ve got to get to the arena. We have a game tonight.” Tristan’s sitting down, ready to listen to me like I asked him to.

I hate doing this, I do. I never took this job to try and extort money from him. That was never my attention. It was never about the money, and I feel sick just having to ask for it.

I look him directly in the eye, and all I want to do is kiss him. There’s something about the way he looks at me. That look that always makes me feel like a woman, not just a girl that works at a hardware store. Or a girl that’s been hired to look after his kids. Like I’m not just the hired help.

“It’s just that my dad called,” I begin, floundering for words. “He told me they…I’m mean, he said…” I take a breath. “The bank is repossessing his store. I know you don’t know me from Adam, and I swear this isn’t the reason I took this job. I didn’t even know—”

“You need money.”

I nod slowly, waiting for him to speak again. When he doesn’t, I continue. “Dad says he needs five thousand. I swear, this isn’t why I’m here, Tristan. I need you to know that this is news to me, too.”

“I see.”

Does he? Does he really? His tone makes me think otherwise.

“Tristan, I took this job because you needed someone to look after Darcy and Ferguson. Because I wanted to help you out, and be there for your children. If Dad hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

He stands up, making me even more nervous. The tension between us is thick, and I feel as if I can cut a knife through it.

“Just tell me one thing,” he demands, his gaze hard. “When you told me about your mom dying, and about how hard it’s been for you…was that a lie? Or just a lead-up to this?”

I shake my head frantically, my eyes wide. Jesus, he must think I’m some kind of scam artist, just making up stories to try to get closer to him. I can’t even respond with words.

“The kids like you.” He nods as though affirming something, and my heart feels as if it has stopped beating. Is this it?

“And that’s the important thing to me,” he continues. “I’ll give your number to my accountant. There are funds set aside for emergency situations. Just tell him your account details, and he’ll do the transfer. Is there anything else?”

I shake my head again, and he turns away from me. His voice is cold, and any hint that there’d been any kind of connection between us seems to have been shattered.

“Good,” he growls. “I’ve got a game to win.”

He doesn’t wait for me to say anything else. I want to cross the room, and go to him. Kiss him. Make him believe me that this isn’t some ruse to take his money. But I’m frozen in place, and only manage to whisper to his shadow, “Good luck.”

But he’s already left the room.

And I know that any chance we had of being together is gone.

I should be happy that he at least agreed to help me. But I’m selfish, wanting things to be the same as they’ve been the last few days. The innuendo, the teasing, the easy conversation. I want him to want me as much as I want him.

Instead, he thinks I’m some kind of gold digger. I head into the living room area of the suite, where the kids are glued to the television, realizing that it’s too late. It’s been planted in Tristan’s mind that I’m here for all the wrong reasons, and no matter what, nothing’s going to change that.

Chapter Thirteen

Tristan

It’s the moment of truth, time to be in it to win it.

It’s game time, and instead I’m fucking distracted by Faith. Again.

Only, this time, it’s because she asked the question I didn’t think would fall from her lips.

She’s only here for money. I know I hired her, which means I intended to pay her every cent we agreed upon, but to hear her request it upfront, in advance…

This is why I stay away from women. Being romantically linked in any way only ends up in a fucking mess once I find out that everything I assumed about them was wrong.

That’s when I realize that maybe I’m the only one who’s romantically involved in this. I’ve only had a fleeting taste of her, but it was enough to make my balls ache desperately and send my mind into a tailspin. Maybe I’m the one who’s got it wrong, though. I might see it as romantically involved, but Faith obviously sees it as financially involved.

I send a message to Russ, my accountant, okaying the transfer of funds to Faith. She