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

Brody’s voice cuts through my tainted thoughts, and I flinch as I’m jolted back to the here and now. “Sorry,” I mumble.

He squeezes my hand in his. “You okay? You’ve barely said a word since we got into the vehicle.”

“My mind is my own worst enemy sometimes,” I chuckle. “I tend to get lost in it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that as long as you’re not torturing yourself with thoughts that have no business being in your pretty little head,” he says, bringing my hand up against his mouth. He kisses my knuckles as he pulls the vehicle into the arena parking lot. “I know it’s hard, Corinne, but you can trust me, okay? If you can do that, the rest will come. We’ll take it slow.”

“Slow like we did today?” I smirk over at him.

He shrugs, a wicked grin on his face. “I’m not complaining.”

I squeeze his hand back, telling him it surely wasn’t a complaint from me, either.

The vehicle comes to a complete stop beside my car, and I am surprised to only see a handful of other vehicles in the lot. It’s darker now than it was earlier, but the lights of the parking lot illuminate the entire thing, only showing off the emptiness of the paved lot.

“When will I see you again?” Brody asks, his eyes reflecting the dashboard lights back at me.

It’s the first time today that I’ve thought of my date with my friend from LookingForLove.com. “Um, well I have to work tomorrow. And I might have plans tomorrow evening...with a friend.”

Might. Technically, I do, but after today I’m going to head home right now and cancel those plans, because if I’m going to give this thing a chance with Brody, there’s no way I’m going to do something like see someone else in a way that could remotely be considered a romantic capacity.

“No problem,” he says, caressing my knuckles against his lips again. “I have plans tomorrow night, too, actually. And practice the next. Maybe we could have dinner on Monday night? At my place, just me and the little man.” He nods his head toward the backseat with a smile. “I know he won’t object. And I’ll cook.”

The flash of headlights cascades across Brody’s face as someone else pulls into the parking lot, and I see the devilish look in his eye. He wants more than just dinner on Monday night.

“With that glint in your eyes, I’m not sure I could turn that invitation down even if I wanted to,” I joke. “I’m afraid you might show up at my place and throw me over your shoulder or something.”

“I’m not above it,” he chuckles just before he leans in and presses his lips to mine. The kiss that ensues is long and passionate, with our tongues colliding like they’ve been starved for connection since the moment we last touched our mouths together.

I pull away from him reluctantly, groaning as the delicious clench of wanting courses through me. Christ, he’s divine. “I should go,” I tell him breathlessly.

“Maybe you should, but that doesn’t mean I want you to.” He kisses me again, a soft peck to entice me just a little bit more.

“Monday night,” I chuckle under my breath. “We’ll see each other then.”

He is still protesting, much to my absolute delight, when I crawl out of the vehicle, saying goodbye for the umpteenth time as I close the door. He doesn’t pull away until he sees me unlock the door to my car and pull it open. I’m about to climb in when an all too familiar voice sounds from somewhere in the darkness.

“Well, hey, Cori. Looks like the rumors are true.”

I whirl around to see him emerge from the shadows, his sporty-looking car parked under one of the only trees in the lot, hiding his presence from me until now.

“Jackson,” I whisper under my breath as though I’ve just seen a ghost. I can hardly move, immobilized by the swarm of emotions that engulf me just by seeing him. “What...what are you doing here?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the menacing glint in his eye says otherwise. He’s still as sexy as ever—physically, at least. It’s interesting how being an unfaithful prick can somehow taint the attractiveness of a man, no matter how beautiful he is to look at.

He moves closer to me, his movements smooth and liquid. “Well, it just so happens I was on my way into town when Mom called me. She let it slip that she’d seen you with Brody. It didn’t take much in the way of investigative work to figure out that Mom’s stuttering responses were exactly what I thought they were—an admission that you’re screwing around with my brother.”

His choice of words makes embarrassment flood hotly in my cheeks but I turn away from him, every cell in my body screaming at me to get in the damn car and drive away. “That’s no concern of yours,” I spit out venomously. “You’re the only one who screwed around on anyone. And that anyone just happens to be me.”

“Perhaps.” The dark amusement flows through his voice like lava. “But who’s idea do you think it was?”

I don’t want to listen, don’t want to stand there and entertain him. But I can’t move. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Jackson.”

“No, you don’t want to know,” he corrects me. “But Brody isn’t innocent, either, Cori. He—”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, whirling around to face him. “You don’t get to use that nickname. It’s reserved for people who actually give a damn about me. You never did.”

It disgusts me even more when he doesn’t try to defend himself, making me feel even more used and tossed aside. Instead, he focuses on something else entirely. “And you think Brody does?” The maniacal laughter that follows has me swallowing hard past the lump in my throat, and I shake my head at the fact I’m letting him get to me after all this time. “Brody’s a player, Corinne, he always has been. We used to joke about the chicks we scored with,” he advises with a grin. “My big brother likes to score on the ice and off.”