Hayley
W hat am I afraid of?
Is it the fact that this man gives me butterflies like I’m back in high school crushing on a guy who is once again unattainable?
Or is it the fact that I’m his physician and trainer?
And let’s not forget the fact that my father owns the team and is his boss, and I signed a no fraternization clause in my contract.
I respond the only way I know how before powering off my phone and putting it back on the nightstand. Staring at the ceiling as sleep evades me as always.
Why am I so afraid of Brooks Miller? It’s not as if he’s going to want to date a single mom. One who has so many insecurities. But then again, maybe he’s into that sort of thing, considering that I’m one hundred percent sure he snooped in my room and stole a pair of my unmentionables.
“Mom?” Cam says, opening the door ever so slightly.
“Mhmm,” I say, moving over in bed patting the opening next to me.
He climbs into bed, snuggling close. It’s rare that he does this anymore, but when given the opportunity, I take it.
He’s silent for a moment before speaking. “Mom, are you sad?” he asks in his sweet little concerned voice.
Ever so observant he is. “Why would you think I’m sad?”
“Well, you didn’t finish your wine at dinner tonight. You always finish your wine unless you’re sad.” He sighs before continuing, “Does it have to do with my dad?”
Yes. No. Okay, well maybe just a little.
Seeing Tucker with that woman the other night has brought back the harsh memories of Boyce.
How he immediately flaunted other girls in front of me after I told him I was pregnant.
We weren’t even broken up technically, but that didn’t stop him.
Then there’s Brooks, the man I thought was a certified fuck boy.
Living the bachelor life for all eternity, yet he had shown me kindness, asked me out on dates, and stole my panties from the bedroom floor.
It’s all so confusing, but I won’t tell Camden any of that.
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” I say, pulling him closer to me, placing a gentle kiss on the back of his head. “So, tomorrow, you’re gonna come to the rink and help me whip Brooks into shape. How does that sound?”
He shakes his head in agreement. “I’m excited. He’s one of my favorite players. He’s pretty awesome too. He’s been teaching me how to draw the goalie out before I take my shot.”
I smile to myself as I listen to him gush over Brooks.
It’s what he used to do with Boyce when he first started watching hockey.
I remember sitting there listening to him talk over and over about Boyce’s stats.
I cringed every time, with both annoyance and guilt that Camden doesn’t know the truth.
It eventually fizzled out as he became more involved with my father and the Skipjacks.
I just hope this fascination with Brooks doesn’t end up in disappointment.
◆◆◆
Camden goes head to head with Brooks in both the gym for warmup and on the ice. I watch as he prepares for another round of one on one, meeting Brooks at center ice. His mouth guard hanging out the side of his mouth as he gives Brooks his best stare down.
I blow the whistle as I drop the puck, Cam putting up a fight as if he’s playing his debut of an NHL game.
Winning the faceoff, skating toward Brooks’ goal as fast as he can.
Brooks, however, is quick on defense, forcing Camden out toward the boards, stealing the puck as soon as he sends it, giving Brooks the chance to score.
“You’re good, kid,” he says, ruffling Cam’s hair as they skate toward the player box.
Cam swats his hand away as he removes his mouth guard. “Thanks, Brooks. It was cool of you to let me come help today.”
“Pretty sure that was all your mom’s doing,” he mumbles underneath his breath.
“Well, that’s it for today,” I say as I skate toward them. “Same time tomorrow? If that’s okay with you?”
Brooks pulls off his helmet, placing it on the bench beside him. His brown locks are covered in a sheen of sweat as he shakes his hair out like a shaggy dog. I wonder how it would feel to run my fingers through his hair. The thought sending a pink blush to my cheeks. God, I hope he doesn’t notice.
He noticed .
His smile broadens as he examines me. “Yeah. Sounds good. So, I wanted to ask if you had any plans Friday night?” he asks curiously.
“Yes,” I answer as Cam replies with a no.
“She’ll probably just sit at home and watch hockey highlights while drinking wine and eating pizza again.”
“Camden!” I scold.
Okay, so he’s not entirely wrong, but I’d probably be home catching up on some junk reality TV show. It gives me the right amount of drama without actually being involved. God knows I have enough of my own though to where I could have my own TV show.
Brooks pauses for a moment, stroking the stubble along his chin as if he’s deep in thought.
“So… seven sound good for you? I’ll make my infamous stir fry.”
I stare at him dumbfounded, my mouth slightly open in surprise. He can’t be serious. I just told him no. Capital N.O.
Before I get a chance to speak, Cam answers for me, “Sweet. I’m down,” he says, looking back at me. “I mean if my mom’s okay with it.”
“Uh, no. We have that event Friday,” I say, giving Camden a stern look.
He nods his head in understanding.
Brooks’ smile falls for a moment as he furrows his brows at me as if he’s trying to gauge whether I’m lying or not.
“Employee dinner for the team.”
A mischievous smile tilts at the corner of his lips. “Right. Next time then.”
The ride to my parents’ house for the annual employee dinner is filled with nothing but Camden’s excitement.
He has had the time of his life these past couple of days, training with Brooks.
How jealous all his friends were at practice today when they found out he had been training privately with Brooks.
Even when I corrected him with the fact that he was only helping me train Brooks, he seemed unaffected. Nothing could break his stride.
We enter the front door of my family’s estate to boisterous music.
Servers glide around the foyer with plates full of hors d’oeuvres, while employees of the Skipjacks and their families are scattered throughout in conversation.
My father goes all out for his employees, many of whom have been with the organization since the beginning of time.
I remember when I was Camden’s age, getting dressed up in my best formal wear to mingle with the grownups.
Now, it’s just another obligation that I wish I could avoid.
“I’m gonna go hang in my game room,” Camden says, scurrying up the stairs.
“Okay, but not for long,” I yell as he continues up the stairs.
I roll my eyes, looking at my little wingman making his perfect escape. I remember when I was his age, dressing up in my best formal attire to mingle with the best. I ate that shit up. However, now I wish I were doing exactly what Camden was doing.
Hiding.
Don’t get me wrong, I love parties. But ever since Boyce denied our child in front of everyone at my parents’ “Memorial Day Summer Bash” in this very house, I haven’t been happy to attend.
The embarrassment I felt as my parents both sided with Boyce.
There was no way he would lie about such a thing…
yeah, what a bunch of bullshit that was.
I walk further into the house, finding my parents standing next to one another near the large fireplace of the family room.
My mother’s floor-length green Valentino gown flows effortless, her blond hair in a stunning updo, while my father’s gray pin-striped suit perfectly pressed.
Both of their outfits probably costing double the amount of the simple black cocktail dress I had settled for that has been stuffed way back in the back of my closet.
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder how I ended up in such a proper family who cared so much about appearance.
“There she is.” My father beams as I approach them.
“Hello, darling,” my mother says, kissing both sides of my cheeks. “Where’s Camden?”
My cheeks hurt from the fake smile plastered on my face. “Upstairs in his game room. Where else.”
“Should have known.” She waves me off. “So, your father has told me that you’ve been making quite an impact since taking over.”
“Well, Mr. Richards.” I emphasize my father’s last name, reminding her that I’m not his daughter today but an employee. “Has certainly given me a task. You know Dr. Monroe wasn’t the best recordkeeper.”
“Ah, he was just old and unorganized. Cut him some slack,” my father defends.
“Well, nonetheless,” I begin to say before a few employees interrupt us.
I quietly excuse myself, taking the interruption as my cue to leave, making my way over to the bar where I find Cassidy in all her glory. I pop a squat next to her, ordering a jack and Coke and then downing half of it as soon as it’s set in front of me.
Cassidy raises an eyebrow at me curious as to ask what’s going on. “So, wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
She smiles before taking a sip of her own drink. “Being here with your parents.” She takes another sip. “Brooks Miller.”
“What about him?”
“Oh, come on. I see how you two act around one another. You like him, and he likes you. I mean for goodness sake, you left with him the other night from the bar.”
I chug the rest of my drink, narrowing my eyes at her over the brim of the glass.
Brooks Miller is exactly the type of man I need to stay away from.
Sure, he’s had his moments where I think he’s more than the self-certified playboy he is, but even Hansel and Gretel had the wool pulled over their eyes.
He’s everything I can’t stand, and I loathe him for it.
“I’m pretty sure he stole a pair of my panties when he dropped me off the other night,” I say, gesturing to the bartender for another jack and Coke.
“I KNEW IT!” Cassidy yells as loud as she could, some guests glancing in our direction.