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

While Megan might look confused and shocked at my relaxed demeanor, Nancy is almost bursting at the scenes. She’s only hearing what she wants to hear—and what she wants to hear is that I’m telling her pretty niece that I will seek her out.

“We’ll be in to

uch,” I add, turning to head back toward my truck, knowing damn well Nancy is vibrating with enthusiasm and nodding her head. “You have a good day, Nancy,” I call out, waving my hand without turning back.

“You, too, Craig!” she shouts.

But she shouldn’t be thanking me at all, because I did something selfish. I purposely left Megan’s luggage in the back of her car so I’d have to see her again. I don’t know why I did it, or why I was compelled to even want to in the first place. But Nancy’s niece is going to need her belongings, and since I’m about to go tow her car to my repair shop, she’ll have to go through me to get to them.

Again, I don’t know why I did it. But the bigger question is on the tip of my tongue, and as I steal a glance back toward Megan, still standing on the front step with her aunt, her crystal blue eyes fixated on me, I ask it to myself.

I might have made sure I got to see Megan again by not grabbing her luggage, but why was she so interested in me that she didn’t even think of it herself?

Chapter Three

Megan

“You did that on purpose.” I follow Aunt Nancy into the kitchen and can already hear the kettle gearing up to whistle shrilly. She’s always believed that there’s a tea for every occasion, so I’m not surprised to see two mugs set out on the counter, teabags already placed in both of them, ready to be steeped.

My aunt turns to face me after unplugging the kettle. “Did what?” The devious grin on her face tells me she knows exactly what I’m referring to.

“Sending the cute mechanic to pick me up instead of driving out there yourself,” I explain.

“So you do think he’s cute.” She lets out a stifled squeal of excitement, pouring the hot water into the mugs. “Craig’s such a good man, Meg. I’ve told him all about you—”

“He mentioned that,” I interject, taking one of the mugs in my hands when she offers it to me. “And just what exactly have you been telling him? That I’m a university graduate with no job and more debt than I’ll ever dig myself out of? Or that I’m essentially homeless because I couldn’t bring myself to crawl back home to Mommy and Daddy and ask for help, so my amazing aunt came to the rescue to bail me out?”

“Oh, Meg.” Aunt Nancy waves her hand like what I’ve just said isn’t true. But, unfortunately, it is. “You always were so dramatic, dear. You should be proud of your education. And I am hardly bailing you out of anything. I just put in a good word with Harold at the Chronicle, and the rest just kind of fell into place. You’ll get a handle on the debt once you start working. Things will work out, Meg, I promise.”

“Maybe,” I hiss when the hot liquid burns my top lip as I attempt to take a sip. “But only because of you. Thank you, Aunt Nancy. For talking to the guy at the newspaper, and for letting me stay here until I can get back on feet again.”

She reaches out and squeezes my arm affectionately. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, dear. The company will be nice.” She leans in to whisper, “And we can talk about boys.”

Despite my dreary mood from talking about my reasons for being here, I laugh. Leave it to my aunt to think we’re going to stay up late, braid each other’s hair, and giggle about the boys in town. “You mean you’re going to talk about boys, and I get to listen,” I correct her.

“Well, I’m going to talk about Craig,” she advises with a shrug. “It’s up to you whether you want to see how right I am about the two of you.”

“What about us?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

Almost.

“You’re perfect for each other!” she exclaims, like I’ve missed the most obvious point in the world. “He works hard, does everything he can for his son—”

“His son?” That makes my eyebrows arch high. “Oh, Aunt Nancy, I don’t need someone in my life with a crazy ex-girlfriend and custody issues.”

“You’re doing it again,” she chides halfheartedly.

“What?” Even though I know exactly what she’s referring to.

“Assuming you know the story before you hear it. Don’t jump to conclusions, Meg, dear. You’ve had a rough time lately, and so has Craig Connelly. You both could use a good friend.” My aunt turns, her mug of tea in her hand, and proceeds to walk out of the kitchen.

I wilt, automatically feeling guilty. She’s right, but that doesn’t make hearing it any easier. “Where are you going?” I call after her.

“To drink my tea in my chair by the window. Then I’ll get you the number for Craig’s repair shop.”

“But he said he’d call us when he knew where things were at with my car.” I follow her into the living room.

“True,” She eases into her chair as smoothly as physically possible considering the state of her knee joints. “But unless I’m mistaken, your luggage is still in that car of yours, because I didn’t see it on the front porch. And I doubt you’ll want to be wearing my clothes.”