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

“Well, do you know what a half-soy nonfat decaf iced vanilla frappaccino is, smart guy?”

“Yeah, too much damn effort.” I smile widely, winking at her, which earns me a roll of her eyes and something between a scoff and a chuckle.

“You’re missing the point.”

“Nah, I get it.” I put the truck in drive, pulling away from the curb. “We’re both from different worlds and know different things because of it. But I’ve got news for you, Megan.”

“And what’s that?” she asks, jokingly exasperated.

I steal a quick glance in her direction. “I’m taking you to an arena. You’re about to come crashing into my world. Get ready.”

***

“I’ve got to admit, when you said you couldn’t skate, I figured teaching you was going to be like teaching a young kid, Megan.” I hold both of her hands, skating backwards while she skates forwards, one foot then the other. “But you’re a natural born skater. Look at you go.”

“Hardly,” she chuckles, her eyes focused on her feet as she concentrates on keeping her balance and moving them smoothly across the ice. “I’m still resembling that baby deer I mentioned earlier, ready to do the splits at any given moment.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

The truth is, I could have let go of her hands a long time ago. Megan has been around this rink a hundred times; she’s got the hang of how to move and what to do to get herself propelled forward and even skating backward.

But I like holding her hands. Feeling the softness of her skin under my fingertips, relishing in the way she pretends to need me and my guidance in order to do this. Because we both know she doesn’t. But I think she likes holding my hands, too.

“Everyone’s leaving,” Megan says, her eyes flitting beyond me toward the exit. I turn and see that she’s right. The other skaters that we’d shared the ice with for the last hour and a half are gliding toward the rink exit, heading toward the locker rooms to unlace their skates and head home.

“Shit, how the hell is it nine o’clock already?” I laugh, leading her across the ice toward the exit as well. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Her mouth curls up at the corners. “This has been fun,” she grins. “You’ve obviously been enjoying yourself, too.”

“Is it that obvious?” I arch a brow.

“You’ve had a smile plastered on your face since you laced up your skates in the locker room,” she laughs, squeezing my hands tightly. “If you’ve missed being on the ice so much, why haven’t you gotten back into hockey before now?”

“No time,” I reply honestly. “I can’t be vying for a professional hockey career when Ellis needs me.” The thought has my stomach tightening with the urgency to explain how badly I need to be the best father I can be to him, especially since he doesn’t have a mother to balance the love and affection from both sides.

“He does,” she agrees, reaching out for the boards with one hand and gripping my hand tightly in the other as she raises one foot to step off the ice and onto the rubber mats that line the floor. “But you need to be happy, too. Maybe you could hire a nanny, or—”

“I won’t have someone else raise my son for me,” I advise her, my voice tainted with an assertiveness I hadn’t meant to convey. I sigh, letting go of her hand only after she’s up onto the floor with both feet, then run my hands through my hair. “Shit, I’m sorry, Meg. I just...that little boy is my everything. He’s already lost so much. All I can do is put him first no matter what, with hopes he’ll know I tried my best to make up for it.”

A crooked grin pulls at one side of her mouth. “You’re a good dad,” she says.

“Is that why you’re smiling like a fool?” I narrow my eyes curiously.

“No, that’s because you just called me Meg.”

It hits me like a ton of bricks. “Huh. I guess I did, didn’t I?”

“You did once before, too, I just didn’t mention it. Careful,” she smirks, giving me a playful nudge. “I’m starting to think you might actually like me and not just be being nice to me for Aunt Nancy’s sake.”

She turns and walks toward the locker room to take her skates off, looking back once over her shoulder with a glint in her eye that has me standing there motionless as other people walk around me on either side.

Careful, I think to myself. I’m starting to think I like you, too.

Chapter Seven

Megan

There’s something different about Craig Connelly when he’s away from Aunt Nancy’s prying eyes, away from his routine and his responsibilities.