Hot Damn (Hot as Puck #3)

17. Cami

Cami

R escuing Beckett and Kallan from the clutches of the lust-dazed women is easy. And once I have them surrounded by a group of elderly men who’ve been hockey fans all their lives, I look for Oakley.

I spot her across the other side of the rink with Walker and Mikey. Mikey is in Walker’s arms, his head resting on his uncle’s shoulder and even from here, I can see he’s almost asleep.

“Hey.”

I turn to face Beckett. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to say thanks for back there. Kallan was out of his depth, and honestly, so was I.”

“You’d have been fine.” And he would have. My need to interrupt their conversation had nothing to do with either man being out of their depth and everything to do with the emotion that rose up in me when I saw that woman put her hand on Beckett. “Kallan’s young though, he’d have needed a life preserver.”

I try to make light of it because I’m still struggling with what I did. I’d marched over there and basically plastered myself to Beckett’s side before my brain had registered what I was doing.

“Either way, thanks.”

“Where’s Whitney? ”

“She went home with Chase Hawkins. Her and the twins hit it off.”

“They left already?” I thought Natalie gave everyone strict instructions to stay until the last fan was ushered out the door.

“Yes. Natalie went with them.”

“Natalie went with them?” My jaw is slack. Nat has never snuck out of a business event. And to go home with Chase Hawkins…

“Whit said she lives next door to them. She offered to feed me breakfast in the morning.” Beckett grins at me like he knows that little nugget of info just blew my mind.

“Natalie Redding, GM of the Rogues, has gone home with a guy, his three young siblings, your teenage daughter in tow, and offered to prepare breakfast for you in the morning?”

“That’s what I said.” His grin widens. “You seem shocked by that.”

“Shocked? I’m not shocked. I’m flabbergasted!” What the hell have I missed? Yanking my phone from my pocket I shoot a text to our group chat.

WTF Nat!

Oakley: What? What’s Nat done?”

Blake: She went home.

Blake waits a beat before sending a second text.

Blake: With Chase Hawkins.

Oakley: Oh, is something wrong with one of the kids?

Oakley’s concern may account for Nat’s uncharacteristic behavior but I’m not buying it.

Not that I’m aware. And get this, Whitney went with them and Nat offered to make Beckett breakfast tomorrow!

There’s silence for a good two minutes before Nat replies.

Nat: The baby is teething. I’ve been helping Chase with the older two because she’s rarely let him put her down since she woke with a fever this morning when he got back from the game.

I have no idea what to say.

Natalie, the woman who has spent as long as I’ve known her telling us she doesn’t want kids is now playing mother to a pair of teenagers?

Oakley: Let me know if you need anything. We never went through it with Mikey but I know it can be brutal for some kids.

Blake: Oh god. Those days suck. Thankfully Bran doesn’t mind walking the floor with Drew. Also, get him to try a washcloth out of the freezer. Wet it and stick it in for a few minutes. Does wonders to soothe their little gums.

I stare at my phone and try to work out what happened to my three best friends. The women who insisted on talking shop with me even when I didn’t want to know what was going on because it wasn’t my job to know, are now chatting about teething babies.

“Oh man, I never would have let Whit go home with them if I’d known the baby was teething. Whit was a nightmare with her one- and two-year-old molars. Candace is one, right?”

I shake my head. “I have no idea.”

“I think he said she just turned one before they moved.”

Oakley: Anything we need to be aware of in your absence, Nat?

Nat: No. Trevor has things handled and what he doesn’t he’s got a minion for.

I laugh. Nat isn’t wrong. Oakley’s assistant turned Rogues’ assistant has multiple minions scurrying around every day. If Nat left him in charge of the rest of the night, you can bet things will go off without a hitch.

“Who’s Trevor?’

“You haven’t met Trevor?” I glance up at Beckett. “He’s the Rogues’ assistant. Used to be Oakley’s but since we signed the contract for the franchise, he’s shifted his focus and now runs a team of assistants who see to everyone’s needs.”

“I’ve probably met him.” He shrugs. “I’ve met so many new people, it’s hard to keep them all straight.”

“I understand that completely.”

“You should get to know more of them now, with the interviews you’re doing.”

I smile. “It’s probably the best way to get to know everyone because I can use something they tell me to remember them by. It’ll help me keep track of who’s who and what they do.”

“Who’s who and what they do?” He laughs. “Sounding a little sing-songy there.”

I arch an eyebrow. “What the hell kind of word is sing-songy?”

“Something Whit used to say when she was little.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she’d ask me to sing nursery rhymes with her but she’d ask for a sing-songy instead of a nursery rhyme.”

I can’t decide whether to laugh my ass off or swoon in a poodle of goo at how sweet this man is. It’s one more reminder of how much he loves his daughter. How much he’d do for her. He doesn’t care that saying a word like that makes him sound silly or could be embarrassing.

Hell, I bet he sang those sing-songies with her whenever she asked no matter where they were.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He eyes me skeptically. “Don’t lie on my account. You won’t be the first person to laugh at me over it.”

“I thought about laughing. But then I thought about how much you must love your daughter to still use the word she made up as a child.”

“Don’t be fooled. She’s still a child and when she’s sick, the first thing she asks for is a sing-songy.”

“Oh God. Stop.” I put a hand on my belly and press against the swirling going on around my ovaries. I’ve never had a man affect me the way Beckett does. Then again, I’ve never met a man like Beckett.

His devotion to his daughter, his dedication to seeing her safe and cared for when he was no more than a child when he had her isn’t just admirable. It’s inspirational. Every father should take notes from this man.

“You’re a great father, Beckett.”

“Huh?”

“The way you’ve raised Whitney. It’s an inspiration and she’s lucky to have you.”

“No. I’m lucky to have her and I thank the stars every day that Mama Dot was able to make it happen.”

“Mama Dot?”

“My foster mother. Without her I never would have been able to keep Whit’s mother from aborting her. Never gotten to take custody of my daughter at the age of sixteen. Never made it through the early years when our whole lives were uprooted. Never—” He stops abruptly, his eyes wide, and I can only imagine he never intended to say all that.

“Don’t discount your own input.”

He shakes his head, whether in denial or an attempt to clear his mind, I don’t know. But I see the second he decides he needs to retreat. I don’t need his next words to know this conversation is over.

“I should go check on some of the other guys. Coach wants me to help them navigate being in the NHL.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and I don’t really need him to. I understand what Walker is expecting him to do as captain of the team. He’s the perfect man for the role. His parenting of Whitney gives him an advantage with the younger ones. They’re not much older than her and he can draw on his interactions with Whitney to deal with the players.

There’s no goodbye. No chin lift. He just spins on his heel and heads away as though his ass is on fire.

I want to go after him. Ask him the million and one questions now filling my head, but I know if I do he’ll shut down and I won’t get any answers. If I wait, keep doing what I’m doing, he may reveal more about himself, about what he went through raising Whitney.

One thing is for sure. He’s hiding something about how he came to be a teenage parent. I’m not sure if I want to know or not. Or if I deserve to know.

Whitney hasn’t dropped any hints about their early life. The only thing she’s mentioned is that Beckett was born in the US. And the small amount of elaborating he did on that subject isn’t enough to curb my curiosity.

I want to know everything there is to know about Beckett Higgison.

I want to blame my reporter instinct.

I want to say it’s nothing more than me intrigued by the dynamic between him and Whitney.

Except I’m not a liar. Especially with myself.

I want to know everything there is to know about Beckett Higgison because I can’t not know. The more time I spend with him, talk to him, the more I want to do both.

It’s like a snowball rolling down a hill. My desire to know him grows with each new piece of information. The longer I spend in his company the more I want to be there.

And that’s not including my interest in Whitney.

She’s such a remarkable young woman. And when you look at her life, the father who raised her, she’s more extraordinary.

They both are.

And I’m not going to lie to myself anymore.

I want to know both of them, but Beckett, he stirs up feelings I haven’t felt in a long long time, if ever.

It’s like a smoldering fire beneath my skin, in my bones. Glowing and warming from the inside out. A slow burn that if I’m not careful could spark and catch, turning into a wildfire engulfing everything in its way.

I don’t want any of us to get hurt in whatever this thing is bubbling through me. I know there’s a healthy dose of attraction. I’m not blind or delusional—Beckett is gorgeous, and how some woman hasn’t snapped him up and put a ring on it is anyone’s guess.

Although, watching him with Whitney, knowing what I know about them, I can see he’s kept himself and her secluded in their own little bubble.

A bubble that burst the other week when Whitney posted that picture.

A picture that since she took her account off private has been reposted hundreds of times. Most of the reposts have been good, encouraging. Only a handful have questioned how Beckett Higgison has a seventeen-year-old daughter and where he’s been hiding her.

Fortunately there hasn’t been too much speculation on why he kept her out of the public eye. I haven’t said anything to anyone except Dad, but I’ve set up some alerts. Any time either Beckett or Whitney is mentioned I know about it. Check it out and make sure it’s nothing to worry about.

Dad’s also keeping his ear to the ground. Neither of us wants this to turn into the scandal that was my childhood. We’re too familiar with how things can go from inquisitive to dangerous in the blink of an eye.

I don’t want that for either of them. So I’ll keep doing what I’m doing until I don’t have to anymore.

When that will be, I’m not sure.

All I know is right now I want to protect them both from anything that could hurt them.