The Bad Boy Hockey Collection: A Collection Of Single Daddy Romances

“It was the caffeine that was the deciding factor,” I tell him. “Not you.” I can’t contain the amusement in my voice.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he jokes. “But you showed up anyway, and early, I might add, so cheers to that.” He holds his cup up to tap it with mine, and I do the same, with a slight flare of heat in my cheeks at him pointing out my early arrival.

“You thought I’d stand you up?” I ask him suddenly over the rim of my cup.

He shrugs. “I knew it was a possibility.”

“I might be harsh sometimes, but I wouldn’t have just not shown up without calling you first, and for a good reason.”

“Like hating me?” he chuckles. His gaze flits up from his coffee cup to my eyes, fixing on them, waiting.

“I don’t hate you, Brody.” And I mean it. I don’t. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“But you thought you did,” he reasons with me.

I wince, sighing loudly. “I think I wanted to hate you,” I admit. “But I couldn’t. I can’t.”

He leans forward, smirking mischievously. “Was it my charm and wit that changed your mind, or my smooth moves on the ice earlier today?” he whispers, like he’s wanting me to admit my deepest, darkest secret.

I chuckle, clamping my hand over my mouth in fear of laughing too loudly. “Oh, definitely a combination of the two,” I choke out. “Get over yourself.”

Whatever Brody is about to retaliate with, he doesn’t get the chance. Instead, a loud ringing sound blares from the table in front of him, and I can see that the caller display on his phone reads Mom.

“I’ve got to take this. I’m sorry.”

I wave a hand dismissively, but he’s already answered the phone, turning sideways in his chair as he speaks low to his mother. He’s not hiding the conversation from me, just trying to be polite.

The call is short and sweet, but Brody’s expression shows signs of strain and worry. “I’m sorry, Corinne, but I have to go get Spencer from my mom’s place. Her friend, Audrey, called—she lives beside her. She fell, and she needs Mom to drive her to the hospital.”

I vaguely remember Audrey, and what little I do remember includes a widowed, frail woman who could badly hurt herself if she fell the wrong way. “Oh no, don’t apologize,” I tell him, standing up and grabbing my mittens from the table. “I get it. But—”

“But I drove you here,” he finishes for me.

“Let’s just go get Spencer first,” I offer. “You can drive me back to my car afterward.”

He lets out a relieved sigh. “Jesus, thank you, Corinne.”

“Save your gratitude, Brody,” I say with a smirk, trying to alleviate some of his stress. “You never know when you might need it later.”

He stops in his tracks as he reaches for his keys. “Corinne, did you just flirt with me?”

I surprise myself by winking at him. “You’re welcome,” I chuckle, heading for the door.

Chapter Eight

Brody

My mom, though a good twenty-five years younger than her neighbor, has always taken care of Audrey as long as I can remember. They might not be friends exactly, but being my mom’s neighbor means she checks in with the woman and makes sure everything is okay on a regular basis. That’s why Audrey called her when she fell, and that’s why Mom made sure she did everything in her power to help the woman.

My mom is a saint, really.

Especially since, as soon as I walk into her house, Spencer is screaming at the top of his lungs. I take him from her, and she breathes a sigh of relief once she hands him off.

“He’s been like this for the past ten minutes. I’m sorry,” she says sheepishly. “Audrey’s waiting for me. I just—” She stops mid sentence, her eyes fixed on Corinne, who’s doing her best to stay behind me, her presence blocked by my body. “Cori?”

Corinne steps out from behind me, no longer shielded. She gives my mom a halfhearted smile. “Hi, Mrs. Marsh. Good to see you.”

“Oh, honey, it’s wonderful to see you!” My mom lunges for her, and my eyebrows raise. Well, obviously she approves of whom I’m keeping company with. “What brings you by, dear?”