Brogan (Carolina Reapers 9)

I pulled Skye out of the carrier, shifting her in my arms so her back was against my chest and she could see all the excitement. Her legs really started kicking, and I knew she’d spotted Brogan coming down the hall at the same moment I did.

He looked damn good—freshly showered, dark hair still damp, and dressed in a Reaper T-shirt and a pair of black athletic pants. He shifted his gear bag over his shoulder, that natural scowl etched on his forehead as he walked down the hall. And damn it, memories of our kiss blazed in my mind, causing all sorts of fantasies to rise up and flare all over my skin. How could anyone look that good after playing a brutal game on the ice for as long as he just did?

“Brogan,” I said when he seemed content to keep his head down, ignoring the calls of Demon! from the fans who crowded the other side of the hallway.

His head whirled toward my voice, and from the utter shock there, I had to wonder if anyone on the planet dared to call him Brogan instead of Demon.

I gave an awkward little wave, making sure I had a good hold of the wiggly bundle in my arms.

Brogan’s eyes shifted in the span of a blink, a smile shaping his lips that literally stole my breath as he hurried over to us. “You’re still here,” he said when he reached us, grinning down at his daughter. “Hey, little demon,” he cooed, and my knees might’ve melted just a little. Not only was this man a walking temptation with a side of sin, but he had the ability to turn me into a puddle just by being sweet.

How could sinister and sweet work so perfectly together? And why the hell did I like it so much?

“I figured you’d want to see her before you go out to celebrate,” I said, willing confidence into my voice instead of the sudden shakiness I felt. “Great game, by the way.”

He smoothed his hand over Skye’s cheek before setting down his bag and reaching for her. She kicked her legs again, and I shifted her into his arms as we stepped toward the wall to be out of the way of the foot traffic.

“I was coming home to you,” he said to Skye, grinning at her while he nuzzled his nose against hers.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought you’d want to go out with the team. I should’ve headed home—to your house—instead of holding you up here.”

And I was rambling again. Brilliant.

He turned his head toward me, those hazel eyes studying me for a few moments. “No,” he said. “This is perfect.” He sounded a little surprised by that fact as if he didn’t realize he’d feel that way. I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he had any experience of family waiting outside for him after a win.

“Is it okay if I ride with you two?” he asked, and the question took me aback for a second.

“You want to leave your car here?” I asked, utterly confused.

His shoulders dropped a little. “I can just have Maxim swing by to grab me for morning ice.” When I still stared up at him in wonder, he glanced from me to Skye and back again.

And then it dawned on me.

He wanted that extra twenty minutes with her on the ride home.

“Oh,” I said, chiding myself for being so ridiculous as to not seeing it at first. “Of course,” I continued, reaching for his gear bag.

“You don’t have to carry my bag,” he said quickly.

I hauled the heavy-ass thing over my shoulder, only slightly feeling the strain. I’d been lugging baby bags and car seats around for longer than I could remember, so this wasn’t a task. “Sure I do,” I said, smiling at Skye. “You’ve got that cute little bundle to handle. She’s way more trouble than a gear bag,” I teased, and he grunted a laugh, and the sound was so unexpected that it sent a warm shiver down my spine. I cleared my throat, trying to readjust my body to the proper off-limits setting. I motioned toward the exit. “I’ll drive so you can sit next to her in the back.”

I looked over my shoulder when I realized he wasn’t following me and was stopped dead by the smile on his face.

I’d never seen that smile before. It was different than the one he reserved for Skye and wholly different than the scowl/smirk he reserved for the cameras.

This was different. A genuine surprise and delight shaped his lips as he looked at…

Me.

He was looking at me. Looking at me like I’d answered a question he’d been asking for a very long time.

But that was ridiculous and totally not true. He was just happy because of winning the game and seeing his daughter afterward. Nothing more.