Grinder (Seattle Sharks 1)

“Truth,” he admitted as we skated off the ice.

“I was impressed you waited this long,” Warren added. “I figured you’d have laid him out a month before now, the way he’s been running his mouth.”

“Nawh. I had let his ego grow just big enough to really hurt when he crashed back down to earth.” I threw open the locker room door and sailed through, my two best friends right behind me. Rory Jackson, Warren Kinley, and I were unstoppable on the ice, a line no one could compete with, and we were just as tight off the ice.

“Feeling okay, kid?” I asked as I passed the rookie’s locker.

He looked up from where he sat on the bench and gave me a sarcastic thumbs up. I shook my head and kept walking until I reached my spot between Rory and Warren. Maybe there were only six years between that twenty-two-year-old and me, but there was a shit ton of experience packed into them.

“McPherson,” Coach called from the doorway to his office as I pulled off the last of my gear.

“Coach?”

“My office.”

Fuck, that was not his happy face. “Sure thing,” I said. “Shower first?”

“Hell yes, you smell.”

His grin was all I needed to know that at least I wasn’t getting cut. The matter of starting when the season began in the next month was another issue.

“Hey, want to head out with us tonight?” Warren asked as he hung his chest protector to dry.

Not that I didn’t want to get laid, but yesterday morning had been a close call. The last thing I needed was one of those girls saying something to Lettie. Jesus, she was getting too old for me to be bringing them home. Fuck, maybe she was too old for me to be doing it. Maybe Bailey was right, and I needed to watch what Lettie saw, and the example I set.

Being a grown-up fucking sucked.

“Gage?” Warren repeated.

“Nawh, man. I need to head home to the girls.”

Rory laughed.

“What?” I asked as he shook his head.

“You. For someone who fucks anything in a skirt, you’re about as married as they come.”

I scoffed. “I am not. Bailey is Scarlett's nanny, plain and simple.”

“Nothing else is going on?” Rory prodded.

“Nothing,” I snapped. “We are as G-rated as they come.” But my fantasies were R-rated. How the hell could they not be? Her ass was round and tight, always showcased in those leggings she liked, and every time I turned around she was bent over to pick something up...or climbing on the kitchen counters, or doing yoga with Lettie. And that was only one her body parts that turned me on faster than a fucking slapshot. Her mass of chocolate-colored hair, that exquisite face, those hazel eyes, her gorgeous mouth… Jesus, if I didn’t watch it I’d be sporting major wood in the locker room.

She’s been your friend since you were in pre-k, tell your dick to stand down.

“So if you guys aren’t involved, does that mean I can—”

“Hell no!”

Every gaze in the locker room swung toward us, and I took a deep breath as Rory lifted a blond, knowing eyebrow.

“Look, she’s Lettie’s nanny, and she fucking adores her. It’s mutual, and my life is finally working. Everything is stable and shit, so I’m not about to let you and your wandering dick into my—”

“If my dick is wandering then yours is a professional tourist.”

“Whatever. Point is that after what happened last time—”

“With the Swede,” Warren interjected.

“Ah, sweet, sweet Katrina,” Rory added with a wistful look on his face.

“Right. She fucking left after you never called, and I’m not going through that shit again. Don’t come near Bailey. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. Don’t breathe in her general direction. She’s not available.”

“Oh come on. You didn’t trust Lettie with Katrina, anyway. Did you or your mom ever let her out of your sight with Lettie?”

“Not the point.” And hell no. Bailey had been the only person besides Mom that I trusted with Lettie. “Just stay the fuck away from Bailey.”

“You calling dibs?” Warren asked, referring to our wingman system. Any girl who’d already had dibs called on couldn’t be hit on by anyone else but the dibs caller. It was our cave-man way of saying to back the fuck off, the kindergartener equivalent of licking your snack so no one else ate it.

And Bailey was a fucking delicious little treat.

“Lettie is calling dibs.”

The two groaned. In our little circle, there were three things you didn’t mess with: our puck, our dibs, and my daughter.

“Fine. So that’s a no on going out with us later?”

I thought about finding a sweet piece of woman to get into, but I truthfully just wanted to get home. “That’s a no.”

A shower and fresh set of clothes later, I leaned back in the chair across from Coach Harris’ desk, watching the clock as it approached five p.m. If this didn’t take too long, I’d make it home to eat dinner with the girls before Lettie needed to get to bed.

Dinners together were my favorite part of the day, listening to Lettie tell me about her day, no doubt enchanted by something Bailey had thought up for them to do.

Bailey…how had we survived without her for the first couple years of Scarlett’s life? Even when her witch of a mother had been in the picture, we’d still been missing the kind of easy teamwork I had with Bailey. Lettie was happy, and though our situation was domestic as fuck, so was I.

With no sign of coach, I took out my cell.

Gage: Hey, whatcha thinking for dinner?

I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax the muscles while I waited for her to respond.

Bailey: Lettie has opted for mac & cheese with a side of….you guessed it—mac & cheese.

I swore that girl was going to turn orange if she didn’t get over this Kraft kick she was on.

Gage: How about I pick up some steaks for us on the way home?

Bailey: I could definitely go for that.

Gage: Sounds good. See you in a few.

I put away my phone as Coach Harris came in, and all the nervousness I’d shed while texting Bailey came roaring back.

“How’s the shoulder feeling?” he asked as he took his chair.

“No issues,” I responded.

“Excellent,” he said, flicking through some papers on his desk. “Complete reconstructions like the one you had are hard to come back from.”