Skater (Seattle Sharks 6)

Connor: Early morning?

Ivy: I thought I’d surprise you, but Hannah texted first.

Connor: Is that YOUR way of saying you missed me?

Ivy: Shut up. I’ll be there soon.

She sent a kissy-face emoji which had me grinning as my feet hit the floor.

Maybe Hannah had missed Ivy, too, and that was why she was all dressed up? That or she’d simply decided that she was going to wear princess dresses as everyday wear, in which case, I was cool with that, too.

I took a two-minute shower, opted to leave the scruff on my face, brushed my teeth and dressed in slacks, a collared shirt and the Sharks tie Hannah had given me at Christmas, thinking she’d get a kick out of it.

Then I grabbed my phone and went downstairs to see what she had been up to.

My smile was instant as I heard Ivy’s voice. I walked into the kitchen from the back steps and saw Hannah perched on one of the stools at the kitchen island with Ivy behind her, weaving her hair into something I knew was going to take me awhile to get down later.

“Good morning, ladies,” I greeted, bending to kiss them both on the cheek.

“I missed you,” Ivy said without teasing or sarcasm. She was getting better at that, being open about her feelings.

“I missed you, too,” I admitted, setting a chaste, but lingering kiss on her lips. God, they were soft and tasted like peppermint, and Ivy.

“Eew,” Hannah called back, knowing better than to twist her head while Ivy was braiding.

“What, Banana?” I asked, releasing my hold on Ivy. “Don’t like it when I kiss Ivy?”

“Don’t care,” she told me honestly. “Just don’t get your kisses all over my hair.”

“Yeah, that’s not how that works,” I told her, dropping to her eye level.

Her green eyes looked at me with a look that had to be at least a decade older than she was. “Do you have girl hair?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know how it works?”

I shot a WTF look up to Ivy, who was biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.

“I guess I don’t know how it works with girl hair. I’ll be more careful with my kisses,” I promised her.

She gave me a tiny nod, not enough to mess Ivy up.

“Your coffee, my dear,” Ivy motioned to the counter with her head.

“Thank you, my darling,” I responded, echoing her fifties sitcom tone.

The first hit of caffeine touched my soul, and I leaned back against the counter with my coffee, soaking up every second of this moment as the girls talked about Nashville, the hotel pool, and how happy Hannah was that we’d won.

“I wish I’d seen it!” Ivy said to her but looked straight at me.

I gave her a soft smile, knowing that work had to come first for her right now. Hell, we were both at that stage in our lives. Hannah had changed my priorities, but with help, I was balancing it. At least I hope I was.

“Me, too!” Hannah answered. “I mean, Miss Bailey is fun, and I like Lettie, but watching the game with them wasn’t the same. I like things the same.”

“Same is good, but different can be fun,” Ivy reassured her. “You’ve had so many changes in the last two months, and I think you’ve handled different like a champ.”

My gaze shifted from Hannah to Ivy, and my heart fucking ached. But it wasn’t a bad ache. It was intense but tasted sweet.

Ivy smiled at me and went back to finishing Hannah’s hair. God, she was beautiful, dressed in a casual maxi dress that gathered in a high neckline around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, and then dropped to the floor. How could something so modest be so damn sexy?

Easy, when it was on Ivy.

Her hair was loose, falling in golden waves that brushed the sides of her breasts, and her smile bright as she and Hannah fell back into conversation.

Fuck me, I wanted this. Every morning. Not that I couldn’t do Hannah’s hair, I was doing just fine thanks to Youtube and some really forgiving bows, but this...feeling. This comforting glow that had me enthralled as something as simple and domestic as watching the girls get ready on a Sunday morning.

I wanted to come home to this, too. Wanted family dinners, and popcorn movie nights, and taking Ivy to my bed at night. I wanted everything.

That ache returned, filling my entire chest.

Shit, I was falling for her, and it had nothing to do with the sex. It was just her, plain and simple. I even wanted to fight with her about the things we disagreed on, wanted her attitude to keep me on my toes, wanted her wild nature to rub off on Hannah so she’d know it was a great thing to grow up confident and mouthy.

“Well?” Hannah asked as she spun in front of me, halting my inner-epiphany.

“Gorgeous as usual,” I told her. “Now, I actually don’t have practice today, so what do you say I take you ladies to Nine’s for brunch?”

Hannah’s eyes widened. The way to the girl’s heart was always through food, and Nine’s was her favorite for brunch. Probably because she gave her “sparkling apple mimosas.”

“Is that a yes?” I asked.

“I’m in!” Ivy said, sipping on her coffee and taking her place under my arm. I tucked her in tight, loving the simple freedom of being able to put my hands on her.

“Hannah Banana?”

Hannah shook her head, her forehead creasing with worry. “I want to. I love the sparkle juice. But we can’t go. I already made breakfast. It’s in the dining room.”

“Oh!” I faked my excitement, feeling like I was missing something important. Really important. “Then by all means, lead the way!”

Her lips puckered and her hands twisted in the fluffy folds of her dress. “We can’t eat it. Not yet, I mean. But I’ll show you!” At that last bit she perked up, so I went with it.

“Okay, I can go with that. What about you, Ivy?” I shot her a look and hoped she read the confusion in my eyes.

“Definitely,” Ivy answered, squeezing my hand. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I knew that beautiful brain of hers was going to work, trying to figure out what Hannah wasn’t telling us.

Hannah took off running, her patent leather shoes squeaking as she ran through the open parts of the house, then across the foyer to the formal dining room that was used for...well, nothing that we’d thought of yet.

Thank God Ivy knew how to furnish it because I’d figured it was a good space for a ping-pong table. She’d just shook her head, showed me to the dini

ng room sets that fit my style to a T, modern, comfortable, and minimalist, and my pingpong table had found a cozy spot in the basement.

“I think…” Ivy pulled me to a stop in the foyer, her eyes going wide as she took in the table. “Oh, no.”

I looked over but didn’t see anything that would cause that much alarm. There were two boxes of cereal—Lucky Charms and Frosted Flakes, a gallon of milk that made me wonder what time she’d pulled it out of the refrigerator, four bowls, and a bunch of bananas next to a pink scrap of construction paper.

“What?” I asked Ivy as Hannah straightened the spoons she’d set out.

Ivy’s eyes slid closed. “I want to be wrong. I want to be so very, very, very wrong. Do you know what today is?”

I blinked. “It’s Sunday. We have two days off, and then it’s game three at home.”

She shook her head. “Not what I mean—”

“Come see, Uncle Connor!” Hannah interrupted. “I set it all up.”

I gave Ivy’s hand a squeeze, and she nodded.

“What do we have here?” I asked as I stepped into the only formal space in the house.

Hannah raced toward me, and as I lifted her into my arms, she was already pointing out the seats. Who exactly were we expecting?

“See, that chair is for me because it’s in the middle. And that’s your seat. You’re closest to the Lucky Charms because they’re your favorite.” She turned to point to the other side of the table. “And that is for Ivy, and that one,” she pointed to the seat at the foot of the table, where there was a pink handmade card and a small, tissue-wrapped present the size of my palm. “That’s for my mommy.”

My arms tightened around her so I wouldn’t let go in shock. It was Mother’s Day. I hadn’t thought about it in years.

“Oh, Hannah.” My voice dropped to a whisper as my stomach hit the floor.

“So, we can’t go to Nine’s for sparkle juice because mommy will be here any minute!”

She looked so excited, so damn happy that it almost seemed cruel to burst her beautiful bubble. But it was even crueler to let her believe that Jess would actually walk in the door.