12. Matt #3
“Ooh, locking us in? I like it,” I tease her.
Her head whips my way. “The second his door clicks shut, you’re gone.”
“Shay,” I whisper, her hand still in mine, “come on. Just talk to me.”
“About what?” she scoffs. “We have nothing to talk about.”
Her free hand stretches out for the door handle, and I don’t miss the frustration pinched in her face as she struggles to push it down. God, that must be the most challenging thing in the entire world to go through.
“Come on.” I slide over, blocking the door and dropping her hand, only to shift it to the bow on her pajama bottoms. I twirl the ribbon, tugging her gently, and surprisingly, she steps toward me.
“Matt,” she warns, like she’s terrified to cross this line.
“You know you could have told me about your son. I wouldn’t have told anyone,” I tell her honestly, understanding why she kept it a secret but still pained that she didn’t trust me with it.
Her head twitches, nostrils flaring and lips turning up at the corners. “My what?”
I tug her closer, and her hands flatten on my chest, the warmth spreading through my entire body from her touch.
“Your son, Kyle. The one you have a sitter for. I get it. But you having a kid isn’t going to scare me away, Rooney. You should know that.”
A thousand emotions flutter through her features, like she can’t decide what to land on. “Wait … what? Kyle is not my son.” She laughs, tipping her head back with a shit-eating grin. “Kyle’s my … oh my God, this is too good.”
Did I not hear Andy right? I swear he said something about a sitter.
“Okay, enough laughing,” I tease her, pulling her tighter against me until her thighs brush mine and she’s forced to look straight up at me, her chin grazing my pec. “I’m fully prepared for fatherly duties.”
She wets her bottom lip, biting down on it to stifle her laughter. And for the first time ever, it’s like the titles of our positions fade away, and we’re just Shay and Matt. No rules or boundaries or fear of the what-ifs.
“No need for that,” she mutters, stepping back, and I instantly miss her warmth. “Kyle is my son … but he’s also a dog.”
My words can’t leave me fast enough. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
She takes another step back, like she’s sobering up from the moment we just shared. “Kyle is my dog.”
“Your dog.” I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. Lifting my fist to my heart, I do my best to fight the growing smirk. “I swear to be an exceptional dog dad from this day forward.”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “You have to stop. You’re making this impossible, you know.”
I click my tongue and take a step closer to her, still holding the ribbon of her thin cotton shorts. “How so?”
She crosses her arms. “By pushing back. And flirting. And making those eyes at me.”
“What eyes?” I smile, squinting.
Glaring at me, she huffs. “Matt, you know this isn’t a good idea.”
“Why would I know that? I happen to think the opposite,” I challenge her, wanting to close the distance between us even more. “I think it’s the best idea ever actually, you and me.”
“It would never work,” she presses. “My job. Your career. I would have to leave the organization, and I just got here. And surprisingly, I love what I get to do.”
“Working with me?”
She grins. “Exactly. As my subordinate. And if you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of the most important tournament with a real chance at winning.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I haven’t noticed that actually.”
“We have other things to focus on.” She pauses. “We need to get through this.”
“And then? After we win the Cup?” My heart skips a beat in my chest.
Inhaling a quick breath, she murmurs, “Then, maybe we can talk about this again.”
Her words blossom like sunshine in my body. A timeline. A goal with a clear objective. I can do that.
Reaching up, I slide my hand along her jaw, and she leans into my palm. She wants this as badly as I do. It just might not be the right timing, and that’s okay. I can wait.
“When you’re ready, Shay, I’m here.” I brush her bottom lip with my thumb, using every ounce of restraint not to claim them with mine. “Simple as that. We’ll focus on the game. We’ll win the Cup, and then I swear to God, Rooney, the first thing I’m doing after that buzzer sounds is kissing you.”
Sucking her cheek between her teeth, she nods. “If you’re lucky.”
That’s my girl, my smart-ass.
“Deal.”
It takes everything in me to pull away from her and open the door. Each step toward my room feels like I’m dragging concrete bricks behind me. But I’d do it for her a thousand times over, and then I'd do it again.
If there’s one thing the Nighthawks have forgiven in our friend group, it’s relationships that shouldn’t be allowed.
I mean, our head coach is married to Burnsy’s older sister, for fuck’s sake. Jensen’s engaged to one of our physical therapists. We’re basically pros at inappropriate relationships. What’s one more?
My task list is established, and I know exactly how to get what I want, everything I want, and I’m not going to stop until that Cup’s in the air and Shay’s by my side for good.