Ryker (Cold Fury Hockey 4)

But it's going to come to a head sooner or later. The coaching staff will have a decision to make, and the most I can do is keep playing my ass off to keep my spot secured. This is the last year on my contract, and if I don't have a stellar season all the way through, it's not going to get renewed and I don't care what Gray's statistical model says.

Speaking of Gray, I fold my paper, set it aside, and take a

peek at my phone. I sent her a text this morning to see if she was interested in getting another cup of coffee. I had nothing better to do after Hensley took the girls today.

Okay, well...I did have something better to do. I had a lot of shit I needed to do. More laundry--which never seems to end with two young girls--a trip to the art supply store because Violet has to do a diorama or some shit like that this weekend for school, grocery shopping, and I need a haircut. I have to do this all today, because tomorrow I'm getting ready for a late-afternoon flight to New York for a Monday evening game against the Vipers.

I have absolutely no business wasting time on coffee with Gray, although just now saying the words wasting and Gray in the same sentence makes no sense to me. For some reason, time with her is just not a waste to me. That is very odd, because she and I have decided to just be friends, and I don't do "friends" with women. Not that I'm opposed to it, but I've never had the opportunity to do so. I've always been the type to pal around with men, not have coffee with a woman.

But who the fuck am I kidding? I want this to be more than friends so I'm doing this in the hopes that something can develop with her. And I'm willing to wait. I'm not in a hurry because I don't even have a freshly inked divorce decree in hand yet. I know it's coming any day, but I'm not in a hurry to jump into another relationship.

Am I in a hurry to get into Gray's panties?

Abso-fucking-lutely, divorce decree be damned.

But I also wasn't kidding with her the other day when we talked. She wouldn't be a fling. A woman like Gray Brannon--gorgeous, genius, larger than life, funny, and let's face it--I've seen her in yoga--she's very flexible too. Yeah...she wouldn't be a fling, but I really, really want to get inside those panties, which I have already imagined would be white virginal lace for some reason.

I know she's not a virgin. At least I highly doubt she is, but I'd like to imagine that what would happen between the two of us...what I would do to her...well, let's just say my fantasy includes her in white lace.

I rub my hand across my face in frustration. Frustrated that I see she didn't text me back, because I really like spending time with her, frustrated that I'm horny for my boss, and frustrated that before too long I'm going to have to see Hensley and try to pretend in front of the girls that I enjoy their mother's company. I promised myself when Hensley and I first separated that I would never let them witness my true feelings. At first that meant anger and betrayal, to the extent I had a hard time looking at Hensley without disgust written all over my face. Now it's more of an annoyance. Like swatting away a bothersome mosquito intent on drawing your blood.

Setting my phone back on the table, I put Gray Brannon out of my mind. At least temporarily, because I am still buoyed by the fact that she did text me late yesterday afternoon before I got to the arena for the game. Her text was simple but it told me a lot.

Missed you in yoga today. Good luck tonight. I have faith, not analytics, that Sutter won't sneak one by you tonight.

Three sentences, all of which made me confident that Gray is very seriously thinking of that kiss we had. She's considering the possibility of something more. I know this because A) she said she missed me, B) she wished me luck and GMs don't text their players to wish them luck, and C) she isn't relying on the comfort of her analytics by which to bolster my confidence. She has faith in me.

That right there...

It means I'm by no means ready to give up my pursuit of her, no matter how stupid it may be.

I push back from the kitchen table and pick up my plate, my eggs, bacon, and some sliced fruit long since polished off while Violet and Ruby pick at theirs daintily.

"Want some more milk, Vi?" I ask my oldest, eying her empty glass.

"No, thank you," she says, and eats another bite of banana.

"Drink your milk, Ruby," I add as I walk away from the table. She ignores me and nibbles on bacon. She hates milk and would prefer water. When the girls first came to live with me, I didn't know if that was a bad thing or not. I knew kids needed milk, right? Calcium and all that shit. But on the flip side, I was ecstatic that Ruby loved water. She shunned sugary juices and soda, preferring ten out of ten times to have some basic H2O.

I actually called the pediatrician first, and after leaving a message, came to realize that was a pretty stupid fucking question to ask a doctor. I then called Kate and she assured me it was okay if Ruby didn't like milk. Some kids didn't and I just needed to get calcium in her another way. It didn't stop me from trying, though.

The doorbell rings and my shoulders immediately tense up knowing that Hensley is on the other side of the door. Both girls scream out, "Mommy's here," and they fly out of their chairs, through the living room and to the front door. I roll my head, loosening up the muscles that are clenched to either side of it throughout my neck and shoulders. I could use a yoga session right about now. Not just to avoid my ex but to see Gray.

Fuck, I wish she'd text me back.

I walk into the living room, put on a smile for the girls' benefit and not Hensley's, and watch as Violet swings the door open. There she stands, in all of her beautiful glory. Hensley is one of those women who will always cause a man's head to turn. She's tall but curvy with long, wavy blond hair that's natural, huge tits, flat stomach, and legs for miles. But it's her face that first captured me when I saw her in a Los Angeles bar while I was playing for the Demons. High cheekbones, narrow nose, perfectly symmetrical lips, and an orthodontist's dream of dazzling, straight teeth. She was model worthy. Literally...that's what she did. She was a model and her big claim to fame was getting into Sports Elite's yearly swimsuit issue. I may have been a little taken with the sunny California girl who could rock a bikini like no other, and we were married in six months.

So fucking long ago and I wish I could pinpoint where it all went wrong. And I'm man enough to admit it. It went wrong sometime long before she fucked Sutter.

Hensley squats down and catches both girls in her arms, turning to bury her face first in Ruby's neck, then over to Violet's. I'm relieved to see she's alone and have to give her credit for that. I know she likes to stay attached to Sutter's hip, but this shows me she truly wants some quality time with her daughters.

Finally she releases them, takes each of their hands, and steps inside. Her eyes come to mine and she gives me a genuine smile. "Hello, Ryker."

"Hensley," I say in greeting and am pleased that my voice doesn't sound annoyed but semi-welcoming. I don't ever want Ruby and Violet to think that I don't welcome their mom into their home.

Ruby immediately starts chittering like a squirrel as she leads Hensley into the living room. "I'm so glad you're here, Mommy. We have a big swing set in the backyard and Violet and I share a room upstairs, and we play a lot over at Ben's house. Daddy takes us to school each day when he's here, and Kylie Frankle's brother cut her hair while she was taking a nap and her parents were really mad, so he's not allowed to play with his Xbox, and..."

Violet just stands there and listens to her sister with a patient smile, swinging her hand back and forth in her mom's grasp. Hensley listens to Ruby, sliding a quick look over to me with an amused grin. How many times have we both been caught in the tidal wave of Ruby Ramblings? I return the smile, because fuck...Ruby's cute as all get out when she's excited like this.

"Why don't you girls give your mom a tour of the house while I go clean up the kitchen from breakfast," I suggest, and that's all it takes for the girls to start tugging her upstairs. I have a feeling they're going to get stuck in the playroom, because the one thing I'll never take away from Hensley is that when she was present, she was a damn good mom. She could spend hours playing with the girls and keep them entertained.

I head into the kitchen, swinging by the table to first check my texts--nothing there--and then grabbing the girls' dishes. It takes me no more than five minutes to load the dishwasher and wipe down the counters and table. I go ahead and start a load of laundry, this time making myself only load the bin

three-quarters full and resigning myself to the fact I'll have to do two loads of darks.

Just as I'm walking from the laundry room into the kitchen, the girls show up with Hensley in tow.

"Your new house is lovely," she says, trying but I think failing miserably at small talk. I don't care if she likes the house or not. All I want her to do is spend time with her girls and hopefully make up for the time she's lost over the last several months.

I give her a nod of thanks. "The girls love it, particularly the huge treehouse and gym set that was in the backyard when we moved in."

Looking down at Ruby, who is always the one who wants to play outside, "In fact...why don't you take Mommy outside and show it to her."

"Yeah," Ruby squeaks with excitement. She grabs Hensley's hand and starts tugging her to the door that leads onto the back patio from the kitchen.

"Get your jackets on," I say as I smile inwardly and very smugly to myself that I used my kids to redirect and avoid conversation with Hensley.

"I'll go upstairs and get them," Violet says, my mature little dreamer who acts as a part-time mommy.

"And Daddy," Ruby says as if she's about to jump out of her skin. "Mommy said she could stay and help us put the Christmas tree up tonight."

I freeze...my hand stretched out toward the refrigerator door as I was going to grab a bottle of water. I can't help the panicked look on my face as my gaze slides slowly...almost painfully over to my littlest girl. She stares back at me as if she'd never ask for another thing as long as she lives if I'll give her this.

Fuck.

We did, indeed, have plans to decorate the Christmas tree tonight. It's December thirteenth and we are far overdue in getting it up. I promised the girls we'd make a grand night of it, drinking hot chocolate, roasting marshmallows in the fireplace, and hanging up the ornaments. I had already dragged the artificial tree out of the attic and set it up in the corner of the living room.

I just assumed Hensley would be long gone by the time this evening rolled around. In fact, I distinctly remember her email saying that she wanted to come by and visit the girls for a "few hours." It's nine A.M. now so I assumed she'd be gone by lunch.