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

I can’t. I’m sorry.

No, I was the one who was sorry. Samantha was vulnerable. She told me what that asshole of an ex-fiancé had put her through, and yet I’d still been thinking with the wrong head, fully engrossed in my own needs when I should have been thinking of hers.

I hated that I sat here now, sipping my coffee at my kitchen table, staring aimlessly at the wall that separated our apartments, wishing I knew whether her eyes flitted to that wall, too. Did I cross her mind the way she was taking over mine?

I had a feeling that, right now, if I was lucky enough to be in her thoughts, Samantha Webb was thinking about what an overbearing jerk I’d been last night.

For that, I had no one to blame but myself.

That meant there was only one thing to do about it.

Fix it.

And since I’d fucked the whole situation up on my own, it was up to me to repair it—or try to—before Samantha’s negative thoughts about me became rooted within her pretty little head, too deep and too solid to be changed.

As someone who ached for that first taste of coffee in the morning, enjoying the quietness that accompanied the slow, steady rising of the sun through the slats of the window blinds, it disheartened me that I couldn’t seem to enjoy the jolt of caffeine into my bloodstream this morning. It tasted bitter, and I derived little satisfaction from it. Coupled with the tension in my shoulders and the muddled mess of my thoughts, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get past the way Samantha and I’s night had ended until I faced her and apologized, gazing into her alluring blue eyes to make sure she understood how sincere I was about it.

She deserved that much from me. A text or phone call wasn’t going to cut it.

I needed her to know I was truly sorry for making her uncomfortable, and that I’d do whatever I needed to make this better. My heart ached to apologize and ease her mind. That was the only way I’d ease my own.

Samantha, it seemed, had taken over more than my mind and body. She was affecting my heart as well.

***

With a bouquet of pink and white orchids mirroring the tattoo etched on her hip, and the biggest bar of milk chocolate I could find, I made the trek down the hallway to her apartment.

I didn’t know what would happen with my apology. I could knock on her door and she might very well ignore me, forcing me to leave the flowers and chocolate on the floor outside her door.

I’m not sure how long I stood there outside her door, but it was long enough to realize that I was, in fact, desperate to deliver the apology I felt she deserved. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to make sure Samantha knew she meant more to me than a heated, misguided moment in the cab of my truck.

I let out a breath, then knocked on the door. The seconds ticked by painstakingly slow, making the stretch of silence on the other side of that door seem to go on for eternity. I was still straining to hear something—anything—to prove she or Levi was there, when the door opened part way, revealing Samantha, her auburn hair piled high on her head, donning a simple black long-sleeved shirt and yoga pants.

Jesus, weekend Samantha was even hotter than all-business, weekday Samantha. “Hey,” I managed to get out. Somehow, I’d reverted to the mental capability of a hormone-ridden teenage boy...again. Her natural beauty astounded me.

She took me in, her expression blank as her gaze dropped to the flowers and chocolate in my hands. “Hey, yourself.”

Damn it, I couldn’t read her. But the fact my mind was caught somewhere between her intense eyes and the soft lips that I could still taste wasn’t helping matters. “I wanted to...I mean, I didn’t want...”

Son of a bitch. All the words I’d rehearsed evaded me. “These are for you,” I stated simply, lifting the bouquet and chocolate out for her.

I saw her shoulders lower slightly as she took the flowers from me. “They’re beautiful.” She raised her questioning gaze to mine. “Thank you. But I do have to ask, why?”

Because those flowers don’t begin to compare to how beautiful you are, and because you’re the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met. “Because I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I replied, sheepish. “About last night. I shouldn’t—”

“You’re sorry?” she blurted out, incredulous. “No, Cooper, I’m the one who’s sorry. I gave you the wrong idea about—”

“I pushed everything too far, and I—”

Samantha stepped forward, pressing her index finger gently to my lips to silence me. “Shh, stop,” she instructed, the corner of her mouth curved upward. When she spoke again, it was in a hushed voice. “You did nothing wrong. What I’m saying is that I gave you the wrong idea, making you think I didn’t want to.”

She paused, giving me a moment to let that sink in. I was so dumbstruck by the heat of her fingertip on my lips and the sultry confession on her tongue that I couldn’t move.

“I did want you, then, Cooper,” she continued, a deep blush creeping into her cheeks as she spoke. “And I still want you now.” The slight curve of her mouth transformed into a full grin for a moment. “But I panicked. I just...wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t expecting you. Or us, f

or that matter.”

I kissed her fingertip and brought my free hand up to pull her hand into mine. “That makes two of us, believe me.”