Chapter 13
Thirteen
Finn
Obviously, I’ve watched hockey on TV before—mostly with a wriggly four-year-old beside me explaining the rules with surprising capability.
Well, okay, not surprising, consider her dad is Rhodes.
But being at home, watching the game on television has absently nothing on being here in person.
It’s incredible.
Loud and intense, the arena humming with energy, the crowd roaring as the Eagles take the ice.
Chloe bounces in her seat beside me wearing a tiny jersey with CALDER sewn on the back. “Look! There’s Daddy!”
My heart skips a beat as I search the ice and spot Rhodes.
Wow.
I knew he was good, knew his body was big and strong and powerful. But I didn’t expect the grace as he skates around for warmups, the speed with which he handles the puck.
And it’s not even game time yet.
“Daddy!” Chloe shouts. “Daddy!”
As though he can hear her voice among the cacophony of the others shouting, his head lifts, eyes shooting in our direction. More than twenty thousand people are here and yet…
He’s looking at Chloe.
At me.
He smiles and heat blooms in my belly, gathers between my thighs so rapidly I have to lock my knees so I don’t melt to the concrete in front of me.
Holy freaking hell.
The man is even hotter in his hockey getup.
“Hi, Daddy!” Chloe shouts.
He grins, touches his right ear in that adorable secret signal they came up with, then waves.
And I find myself waving back.
Find myself absorbing the impact of the wink he tosses my way.
Then he’s gone back to warming up and it’s not much later that the game starts and—
What a game it is.
The speed, the skill. The hits that send the glass rocking and the crowd gasping. The goals that the Eagles rack up…and the ones that the Hawks score back.
It’s a total nail-biter, and by the time the third period is over and the Eagles have snuck out a win, my throat hurts from yelling and Chloe is amped.
We go downstairs to say goodnight, and though I have my visitor’s badge out, ready to show anyone who needs to see it as we weave through the halls, it proves to be unnecessary.
Everyone knows Rhodes’s daughter.
“Chloe!” Chrissy calls, sweeping her up into a hug.
A man who looks familiar stands behind her, dressed in a suit that screams expensive and seemingly not caring that Chrissy’s daughter, Mia is drooling on his shoulder.
Chrissy smiles at me. “Finn. Have you met my dad?”
Jean-Michel—Jean-Michel freaking Dubois—introduces himself and suddenly I’m shaking hands with the billionaire owner of the Eagles.
“N-nice to meet you,” I stutter.
He smiles and it’s gentle, the kind of expression that immediately puts people—and me—at ease. “I hear you’ve been volunteering for Chrissy’s rescue.”
“Just a few times a month,” I say.
He chuckles. “I’m sure Chloe—and Olive and Pear—are keeping you busy.”
We talk for a few more minutes and then little Mia decides it’s time to eat, so Chrissy sweeps her out of her dad’s arms and takes her down the hall to her office so she can feed her. And not long after that, Jean-Michel disappears to do billionaire owner things.
But Chloe and I aren’t alone.
Some of the support staff come out—coaches and trainers and I even get to meet the illustrious Coach Dee (and I still really want to be friends with her)—and they all chat with Chloe like she’s one of their own.
And I suppose she is.
I watch as she talks, feeling oddly proud of her.
Confident and assured and Chloe.
And not so surreptitiously slipping the candy they pass her into her pockets.
Little sneak—I think they’re overflowing already.
“Hey.”
I blink, tearing my gaze away from my charge and glancing over—
No. Glancing up at a tall, broad, cocky looking hockey player.
Only, I don’t remember seeing him on the Eagles bench.
Then I spot it—the logo on his form-fitting tee. It’s not an Eagle. It’s…
A hawk.
Ew.
“I didn’t know the Eagles had someone this pretty hiding in the family section,” he drawls, leaning back against the wall and crossing his ankles and arms.
I roll my eyes, clocking this playboy a mile away. “Probably because I’m not hiding.”
He laughs, sticks out a hand. “I’m Shep.”
“Finn,” I say, begrudgingly shaking it.
His eyes study mine, and he may be pretty, but his looks don’t do a thing for me.
Probably because I’m fixated on a different brown-haired hockey player with thick thighs and an incredible ass.
“It’s nice to meet you, Finn,” he says, his hold tightening on to my hand when I go to tug it back. “Do you ever root for a better team?”
I snort softly, tug again. “No.”
His fingers tighten further and he bends, brushes his lips over the back of my hand. “Well, now. That sounds pretty final.”
“It is.”
He lifts his head, releases me, and steps back. “I don’t see a ring.”
“I don’t need a ring to know I’m not interested.”
“No?”
“No.”
His grin widens.
And then disappears.
Because Rhodes is suddenly beside me like he’s materialized out of thin air. He’s taken the top half of his gear off, leaving him in a tight undershirt that’s sporting an Eagles logo (boo, Hawks) and caresses every hard and defined muscle of his chest and shoulders.
Yum.
I try to shove that thought away.
It’s playing with fire. It’s dumb and dangerous.
But I can’t tear my gaze away from him with his hair damp and his cheeks slightly flushed and his eyes…
Blazing.
“What the fuck, Shep?” he growls.
Yup.
Growls.
And I shiver as that heat slides through me again, coiling in my middle, stroking phantom fingers between my thighs.
The other man—Shep—lifts both hands. “Relax, man. I was being charming.”
I snort.
Rhodes’s eyes come back to mine, holding for a long moment.
Then he turns his glare back to Shep. “Go away.”
Shep’s smile is unrepentant, and it doesn’t take a genius to see he finds this whole scene amusing. “I was just going to ask her if she wanted to go out to dinner—”
Rhodes steps forward. “Go. Away.”
“Is that a no then?” Shep asks me, his brown eyes glittering with amusement. Geez. The man must seriously have a death wish.
Beside me, Rhodes tenses, the air growing taut and heavy.
At least until I say, “No.”
Then his shoulders relax, the anger bleeds from the moment.
“Damn.” Shep smirks. “And I miss out.” A beat. “Again.” The last is said lightly, but there’s something distinctly not amused in his tone that tells me there’s more to his story.
Before I can ask—which is probably for the best, considering the annoyance radiating from the man next to me—he saunters away.
Rhodes glance at me. “You okay?”
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
“Daddy?” Chloe says and one look at her is all it takes to see she’s hit the wall.
“It looks like you’re ready for bed, baby girl,” he says, scooping her up when she wanders over.
“I’m not”—a huge yawn—“tired.”
“No, of course not.” He smiles as he cuddles her close for a long moment then kisses the top of her head. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
She nods sleepily. “Yup.”
His gaze flicks to mine.
And it takes everything in me to not gasp.
Because deep brown eyes are full of fire, of passion, of—
Need.
And it calls to the yearning inside me, a spark to the tinder, turning my desire blazing hot in barely a second.
He goes very still. Very still. Then he tears his gaze from mine, dropping it to his feet, taking a long, slow breath…and when he looks back up, his eyes are calm.
Steady.
“You’ll be okay?” he asks as he passes me Chloe, her head settling heavily on my shoulder, her breaths coming slow and steady.
I nod. “Yeah. Of course we will be.”
“Call me if Shep or anyone else gives you trouble.”
“I can handle Shep.”
His mouth quirks. “I know you can.” He straightens Chloe’s jersey and his fingers brush my arm, sending sparks of sensation all through me. “But humor me, yeah?”
I nod. “Okay.”
His expression gentles. “Thanks.” Then he turns away, pauses, rotates back. “Finn?”
“Yeah?”
He opens his mouth, shuts it.
Shakes his head.
“I’ll see you in a few days.”