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

It’s my turn to shrug. “Too bad that’s not your choice to make,” I say evenly. “However, you do have two choices to choose from. Either you call or text Corinne right now and admit you lied through your fucking teeth about everything, or so help me God, I will drag you the fuck over there kicking and screaming and you’ll tell her to her face.”

Judging by the way Jackson’s mouth keeps opening and closing, and the way his hands keep raking through his shaggy chestnut hair, I’d say he’s reading my body language accurately—I mean every word.

“Fuck, fine,” he sighs, defeated. “If you want a chick that’s boring as the fucking day is long, with a personal motto of ‘Live Quiet’ and a laugh that’s louder than a goddamn—”

“What did you just say?” The bottom seems to fall out of my stomach as I stare at him.

Jackson has got his phone in his hand, but he raises both hands in surrender. “Sorry, I’m just saying—”

“Jackson!” I’m struggling with impatience. “Her personal motto. Say it again.”

“Live quiet?” He’s looking at me like I have two heads. “Something about just wanting a simple life and blah, blah, fucking blah.”

“Shit,” I hiss, turning away from him. You’ve got to be kidding me. “It all makes sense now.”

“Wanting a simple life?” Jackson’s eyebrows arch in confusion. “Didn’t know that was your thing.”

“No, dumbass,” I snap, heading for the door. “Call her, Jackson, and do it now. I want her to hear you confess that you lied before I see her again.”

“Good luck,” I hear him snicker under his breath. “When’s that going to be?” Then, louder so I can here him, “I’m calling her right now, cool your jets.”

When’s that going to be? That’s what he asked me.

I pull out my phone and reopen the LookingForLove.com app. According to the messages, LaughLoudLiveQuiet hasn’t read my previous message, which is fine. I send another message to follow it up.

Ignore that previous message. I’ll see you at eight. Bring your laughter and those pretty eyes.

According to that message, I’m going to see Corinne again tomorrow night.

Chapter Thirteen

Corinne

I’ve spent the last two years blaming Jackson Marsh for my heartache and bitterness. It turns out I’ve got no one to blame but myself.

This is all my fault. It has to be, seeing as I allowed not only one Marsh brother to pull the wool over my eyes and tear my heart out, but two.

I couldn’t bear to be by myself in my little apartment after I spoke with Brody on the phone, so I called Jenn and told her everything. She could have just listened and told me what an idiot Brody was to make me feel better, but no. Jenn did one better, she showed up with a bottle of wine and a takeout pizza. Then she listened to everything all over again and told me what an idiot he was.

Thank God for Jenn.

“Don’t you think for a minute you did anything wrong,” she’s saying for the hundredth time. “If Brody Marsh was giving off signals that he was playing a game and was a lying son of a bitch, I didn’t see them, either.”

I swallow down the last of the wine in my glass, shaking my head. “I just can’t believe this. I fell for it all. The legal battle for custody, the single daddy spiel, the rugged-looking hockey player with smooth moves, all of it. He might be an idiot, but he isn’t the only one, Jenn.”

“You’re not an idiot!” she exclaims more exuberantly than she normally would if she didn’t have a half bottle of wine in her system. “You’re a pretty, successful woman who put her heart on the line and finally opened herself up to someone. There’s no shame or blame in that. That man didn’t deserve the chance to have your heart, Cori, but that’s on him, not on you.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I confide, my shoulders slumping.

“Hey.” Jenn pulls herself up from where she’s sprawled out on the couch into a sitting position and eyes me intently. “You need to just take your mind off Brody Marsh, asshole extraordinaire, and go have fun tomorrow night with this mystery man you met online.”

I must be nuts to still be planning to go meet EyesAreEverything tomorrow night. But honestly, I’m looking forward to it. We’ve already established that this is a purely platonic friendship we’ve got, and frankly, I could use a friend right now. Not that Jenn isn’t helping, but it’ll be nice to spend a few hours with someone who isn’t hell-bent on reminding me that there are other fish in the sea, other men who aren’t complete jerks like the Marsh brothers.

Unfortunately, right now, I’m not even interested in seeking out those other men. Because it hurts to know that Brody played me for a fool right from the beginning, that he is no better than Jackson.

But it’s not like I can just turn off my desire for him and pretend like I didn’t sleep with him, that I didn’t feel something for him...that I didn’t feel something for his son.

I did feel something for him...and I still do. It’s masked by the pain he’s putting me through, but the desire for him is still there, along with all the promises and dreams I’d been allowing myself to hear and see since he’d knocked down the defensive walls built around my heart.