Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
AJ
I open the door to my office, my legs still shaky and my heart still pounding in my throat, and expect to see him there with Abby. Instead, Colleen is sitting at her desk in the empty waiting area.
“Where’d McCabe go?” I ask, startling her as I come up behind her.
Did he really just have me half-naked on my desk, about to come, and then run away like a scared little boy?
“Abby had a dirty diaper, so I think he went to change it?”
And he couldn’t have done that in my office?
“Is he coming back?”
“I don’t know,” Colleen says. “He said your meeting was ‘done for now.’ Do you need me to get him back here for you?”
“No...” I try to think of something that doesn’t sound suspicious, because she does not need to know that I’m about to chase him down and demand we talk about what the hell just happened, and why it can never happen again. “I just thought of something else I need to tell him, though. Which way did he go?”
She points to her left. “I think he was probably headed to the bathroom to change her?”
“Thanks.” I’m so busy trying to ignore the pit in my belly as I rush down the hall that I don’t even have time to prepare what I want to say before I’m already at the men’s bathroom. Perils of walking so fast, I guess.
Without giving myself time to think about what I’m doing, or whether it’s a good idea to go chasing after him, I’m knocking twice and pushing the door open. He’s standing at the wall of sinks with Abby’s changing pad spread out on the counter and her tiny feet captured in the air in one of his huge hands.
“God, that smells terrible,” I say as my head rears back. I’m honestly shocked that someone so tiny could create such an awful stench.
“Yeah, changing diapers is not the best part of parenthood. Especially once they start eating real food, and not just formula.”
I cross one ankle over the other and my arms under my chest as I lean up against the wall, trying to look more composed than I feel while I watch him attempting to wrestle a diaper on his squirming baby.
“You realize this is the men’s restroom, right?” he asks when I stand there staring at him long enough that he feels like he needs to say something.
I swallow down the nerves. “What just happened in my office—” I start, but he’s speaking at the same time.
“I’m sorry, I should never have done that.” He glances at me in the mirror, his cheeks growing pink, before looking down at the diaper he’s wrangling on.
Holy shit, did Ronan McCabe just blush? I can’t reconcile that reaction with the anger he has consistently displayed since I came to Boston.
“But also,” he says quietly, “why did you kiss me back?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh, my head shaking slightly. And I really don’t. God, the way I just shed my clothes the second his hands were on me is downright shameful... not to mention wrong. I’m his boss, and we’re in the middle of a contract negotiation. “You did that thing...”
“That thing?” One of his eyebrows is raised as he glances up at me in the mirror again. I hate the way I’m standing off to his side, with him turned away from me, as we’re having this conversation. But we need to talk, and Abby needs a diaper on her, so it is what it is.
“Yeah, like that thing where you go from scowling to smirking.”
“That’s a thing ?”
“You must know it is.”
“I don’t spend a lot of time analyzing my own facial expressions, Alessandra.”
No one calls me Alessandra. Not anymore.
“Maybe you should, because then you’d know that you’re always scowling.”
“I’m not always scowling.” His voice is still quiet, but not defensive. I think maybe he’s teasing?
“Pretty sure you are.”
“I wasn’t scowling when you were kissing me.”
I roll my eyes, and a little voice at the back of my head asks, What if he only kissed you as a last-ditch effort to persuade you to renew his contract?
I know that this kind of thinking—the assumption that everyone’s trying to manipulate me—is a function of my upbringing. My formative years were spent watching my parents barter, like If I go to this gala with you, then you need to make an appearance at the club’s golf fundraiser next month. My relationship with my ex-husband was much the same.
It wasn’t until I entered therapy after my divorce that I learned not all relationships are transactional like that. And since then, I’ve had the privilege of seeing some wonderful relationships, like the Hartmanns, who are still very much in love, even after almost forty years of marriage.
But sometimes, old habits die hard.
“Yeah, about that. It can’t?—”
“Happen again. I heard you the first time.” He puts Abby’s shorts on over her diaper now that it’s secured, and as he does, he glances at me in the mirror again and lifts an eyebrow. “And remind me why not?”
I take a few seconds to study his face...the razor-sharp cheekbones with dark stubble almost covering his skin below, the full lower lip, the straight nose with a small scar along one side, and those bright green eyes framed in dark lashes. His eyes were the first thing I noticed about him when I scouted him years ago.
Some might describe his eyes as piercing, but I thought they looked hungry. Hungry for success, for victory, for the NCAA championship he was striving for. I wanted that kind of hunger in a player...the kind that would keep them going when things got tough.
But once he was playing for me, there was an unmistakable, different type of hunger in those eyes—the kind that couldn’t hide that he wanted me. He never took a single step out of line, never said or did anything inappropriate. He knew I was married, and he respected that.
Until he walked in on Chet berating me. I doubt he heard enough to know why, but the fact that his first instinct in hearing me disrespected like that was to lay my husband out was proof enough of his feelings. I didn’t mistake them, and unfortunately, neither did Chet.
Not that I ever would have done anything about that back then—not when I was married, and his boss, and he was still practically a child. And I shouldn’t do anything about it now, either.
He’s still younger than me, and I’m still his boss.
But standing here looking at him, watching the heat in his eyes and the open desire in his gaze, has the part of me that should stay frozen melting for him instead.
“Because I’m your boss and we’re in a contract negotiation. It’s not just inappropriate, it’s unethical.”
As if she agrees, Abby lets out some fussy sounds, kicking her feet and clearly wanting to be held.
“Here,” I say, reaching my arms out, “give her to me.”
His eyebrows pinch, but when he lifts her and Abby reaches her arms out to me, too, he hands her over.
Holding her facing out, so she can see him, I dip my head toward hers. “See that scowl, baby girl? You’re going to need to learn how to ignore it when your daddy does that.”
I glance at him in time to see the way he bites his lower lip like he’s trying to hold in a smile.
“I’m not scowling,” he grumbles as he gathers up the changing pad and wipes, tossing them in the bottom of the stroller before he puts Abby’s diaper in a small bag, ties it off, and tosses it in the trash. It’s all done with practiced efficiency, and before I know it, he’s nodding his head toward the door.
I lead the way, with Abby in my arms and him following behind with the stroller. And when we exit into the hallway, Ralph is walking toward the bathroom and giving us an inquisitive look.
“That was a nasty diaper change,” I tell our security guard. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”
“There’s not even a changing table in there.” He looks at McCabe. “Why would you?—”
“Don’t you dare ask why a man would need to change his baby’s diaper,” I say. “The better question is, why aren’t there pull-down changing tables in the men’s bathrooms like there are in the women’s?”
He holds his hands up. “I wasn’t saying...”
“It’s a problem that will be rectified soon enough.” I turn back toward my player, my voice oozing professionalism. “McCabe, let’s finish that conversation in my office. Now.”
“ S o that’s your solution?” McCabe says, sitting across from me while I hold Abby, lightly bouncing back and forth where I stand behind my desk. The six feet of distance and a baby between us have kept things professional, but there’s no doubt we’re more familiar and friendly than we would have been before he had me naked. “You think your brother would be a more reliable nanny than the one I just fired? Even though he’s the same age she is, with even less experience?”
“Like her experience did you any good” I give him a pointed look. “Besides, Nicholas is like me with babies.”
“And how’s that?” he asks with a curious tilt of his head.
“Babies love us.” I don’t know why we are both so great with kids, given our upbringing. “Plus, he’s studying child psychology, and he volunteers at the NICU where his girlfriend interns. He’s dealt with much fussier babies than this perfect angel,” I say as I look down at Abby gnawing on her fist, and kiss the top of her head. She’s still got that baby scent, and if I had functional ovaries, I’m sure they’d be exploding with the desire to have a baby just like her someday.
“But has he ever spent a long period of time with a baby? Holding them for a couple hours in the NICU is...really nice of him...but it’s not exactly the same as taking care of a nine-month-old.”
“I think he could handle it. And he lives with his girlfriend, Nicole?—”
“Wait, so their names are Nicholas and Nicole?” He lets out an amused chuckle.
“Yeah, and they’re stupidly cute together, and super easy to get along with. Anyway, she’s getting her nursing degree, and interning at the NICU, and taking a summer class, so that all keeps her pretty busy. He’s just waiting tables for the summer and could easily switch to watching Abby instead.”
“I’d only need him until the playoffs are over,” he says. “Would it really make sense for him to quit his job for what could be...”
He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t mention that this could all be over next week if we don’t win four games. No hockey player is going to jinx it like that.
“I’m pretty sure you’re going to need him well into June.” I’m confident these men can take us all the way to the finals, and I’m looking forward to watching them do it.
“Why would a college-age guy want to watch a baby for the summer?”
“For the same reason a college-age girl might, I suspect: it’s a job. With better pay than waiting tables. And like I said, babies love him.” He’s come over to Lauren and Jameson’s with me before, and Lauren’s twins treat him like he’s their own personal jungle gym, which, somehow, he seems to love. “I’d have to double-check with him about this, but I know my brother pretty well, and I think he’d be up for it.”
“Even with all the nights he’d have to stay at my place with Abby?” He sounds like he can’t imagine a college kid who doesn’t want to go out partying every night.
“He’s kind of a homebody. Plus, he and Nicole stay at my place when I travel with the team, so he’s already used to being there while we’re gone. Staying at your place to watch Abby wouldn’t be that big of a difference.” As if she recognizes her name, she kicks her feet excitedly. “See how excited she is about this?”
McCabe unfolds his arms from their resting spot across the t-shirt that’s stretched over his chest, and drapes them along the arms of the chair instead. “Why do they stay at your place when you travel?”
“I have an ancient cat who hates people but also goes crazy and pees on the rugs and tears apart the furniture when no one’s around. I assume she’s confused and thinks she’s a dog.”
A small smile graces his pale pink lips, pushing his cheeks up and making the angular lines of his cheekbones soften. He looks good when he smiles. Not that he ever doesn’t look good...but he looks better happy.
“What?” he asks, studying my face.
I lift my eyebrows and put a neutral expression on my face, afraid to let him know how closely I was watching him. The only time I should be watching him that closely is on the ice.
“We still haven’t talked about the press conference,” I say, as if that was the thought running through my head a moment earlier.
His expression goes hard again as he bites the inside of his cheek. “Let’s not forget that I already said I was sorry, before?—”
“Let’s skip right over that to the conversation we should have had. The one we were supposed to have after that stunt you pulled last night.” I pace back and forth behind my desk, bouncing Abby in my arms. She’s not heavy, but I can tell my arms would easily tire from holding her like this for too long. My eyes flick to McCabe’s muscular biceps, the lines of which I can see even while his arms remain motionless.
“I know I was in the wrong,” he says, his voice placating. “I shouldn’t have said exactly the opposite of what you asked me to.”
“Why did you?” The question feels loaded as it comes out of my mouth. As if we’re not just talking about this specific instance with the press, but the way he constantly tries to piss me off.
His eyes trail down, focusing on Abby, like he can’t possibly look me in the eye. For a moment, he looks like he might open up and give me a real reason. And then he says, “I don’t know.”
“But we cleared the air about what happened when I traded you, right?” I push down the guilt I feel now that I know about his grandma.
“Cleared the air? I’m pretty sure you just told me what I already knew, adding in, ‘but I didn’t have a choice.’”
“McCabe, I had no idea about your grandma, and I’m really sorry for the role I played in that. You didn’t deserve to get traded, especially because you were standing up for me. But it wasn’t a punishment. I didn’t do it because I was mad that you beat the shit out of my husband. I did it because my hands were tied. Now I’m hoping we can at least work together in a less hostile way.”
He gives a small shrug of his shoulder and looks at me with a smirk. “Yeah, maybe.”
My stomach flips. “But maybe not?”
“I don’t know, AJ. I think a lot of things that happened as part of that conversation...changed things. But it’s not something I can talk to you about while you’re holding my daughter in your arms.”
My chest shakes with silent laughter, and Abby kicks her feet harder, like she thinks we’re playing a game. “You know she can’t understand whatever it is you want to say, right?”
“Okay,” he says, huffing a laugh, “maybe I don’t want to talk about it while you’re holding my daughter.”
“And why not?” I press, unable to stop myself from taunting him a bit.
That smirk is back already as he comes around my desk, leans in, and plants one hand on the bookcase behind me. His eyes focus on mine, his pupils dilating until there’s only a sliver of green surrounding them.
Ohhh. He still wants me.
My heart pounds against my ribcage so powerfully I’m sure he can feel the vibrations from half a foot away. Why does my body have this reaction to his?
“Because the feelings I’m having about what just happened aren’t something I can explore with her in the room.”
“Like I said before,” I steel my voice even while my body wants to press forward into his. “That can’t ever happen again.”
He pushes off the bookcase, giving me some room to breathe. “If you say so.” His gaze is still locked onto me, like he’s challenging me to prove him wrong.
Done. Because if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s compartmentalizing my feelings and prioritizing work over everything else. And that’s what this relationship is—work. He’s the captain of the team I manage, and there is no situation in which it would be okay for me to have anything other than a purely professional relationship with him. No matter how tempting it is, it wouldn’t be worth the fallout.
“I do say so.”