Chapter 20
Twenty
Rhodes
The guys are sitting around the kitchen table, devouring the cookies that Finn made while Chloe and Jake dash this way and that.
She’s having a playdate with her favorite pal from school, and I understand why she likes the kid so much.
Jake is sweet and kind.
And also inexhaustible.
Kind of like my daughter.
Luckily, there are plenty of adults here to supervise play time.
Though, I have to admit that it’s King and Rome’s corgis, Athena and Zeus, who are doing most of the heavy lifting on the supervision front—or maybe it’s more like they’re herding the kids to where we can all keep our eyes on them.
And Olive and Pear.
Rome chuckles at something Chloe says as she makes a pitstop in the kitchen to steal a cookie.
King bounces baby Mia on his knee.
Huddy sits back in his chair, amusement dancing across his face.
West is supervising his stepson, Quinn, as he puts together a model of an old-school car. The older kiddo did play with Chloe and Jake for a bit but eventually lost interest.
But West is a good dad and came prepared with alternatives.
Though, I’m not sure model cars are any better than fabric and paint pens and glitter.
Why are there so many pieces?
My eyes go to the clock for the dozenth time in the last hour and I bite back my impatience. It’s Finn’s day off, and I know I don’t have any authority over her time away.
But I want to see her.
Talk to her more.
Understand all the pieces that make her tick.
And maybe…touch her some more.
“God, I’m going to need to put so much time in the weight room to make up for this,” Cam says, shoving another cookie in his mouth. “But I can’t even find it in me to care.”
I shake my head in amusement then hear what I’ve been waiting what feels like an eternity for (but is really only since we said goodnight less than twenty hours ago). My eyes dart to the hall, listening as the voices—as Finn’s voice—comes closer.
And closer.
Then she’s here.
And my mouth drops open.
Her hair is different and…
I’m so totally fucked.
Because her deep brown hair—the strands usually escaping the confinement of her messy bun—is cut shorter, framing her face in gentle waves. It’s lighter too, blonde on the ends and darkening to that rich brown at her roots.
It’s young and fresh and…fuck, she’s somehow even more beautiful than normal.
King whistles. “Looking good, Finley!”
She sighs, shakes her head, sending those loose curls bouncing. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s Finn.” She pats her hair, cheeks going pink, and her mouth curves up. “But…thanks.”
“It looks really nice, Finn,” Cam says.
“Agreed,” Huddy chimes in.
Rome nods. “It suits you.”
“Thanks.” More pink on her cheeks as I stand and cross over to her. “You like it?” she asks shyly.
“It looks great,” I whisper.
Which is an understatement so intense it’s basically a lie.
She looks incredible.
“Really?” she asks.
“Really.” I reach out and take a silky strand between my fingers, rubbing it lightly. It’s soft as hell, and I want to feel it dragging over my naked skin.
As though she plucks that thought from my mind, her cheeks flare bright red. “Rhodes.”
Chloe barrels into us, sending me skittering back a pace as she wraps her arms around Finn’s waist. “Your hair is so pretty!” she exclaims. “You look like a princess!”
“The highest order of compliments,” Finn jokes lightly, though her eyes are deliberately avoiding mine. “How’s the playdate going?”
“Busy,” King chimes in.
I blink, having forgotten the guys were there.
But they sure as fuck haven’t forgotten about me. Or Finn.
They’re watching us like they’re committing every single part of our interaction to memory.
Hell, they probably are doing exactly that.
And preparing to share every detail with the team.
Great.
“Are you guys hungry?” Finn asks.
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” they reply at the same time.
“They’ve eaten their bodyweight in cookies.” I glare at them. “Plus, they need to be going.”
She opens the fridge door, surveys the contents. “I could make—”
I move over to her, barely resisting the urge to wrap my arm around her middle, to draw her back against my chest.
We have an audience.
And I’ve barely begun to understand this woman, to get her to trust me, to…trust myself with what I’m feeling.
“It’s your day off,” I murmur. “You’re not cooking.”
“I could order pizza.”
“I did order pizza,” I tell her, inhaling the soft, floral scent of her hair. “But not for those assholes. For me and Chloe. And you,” I add. “If you want it.”
“Oh,” she whispers. “Really?”
I nod, lift my voice so they can hear it. “So these assholes are heading out.”
“We are?” Cam asks. “But I like pizza too.”
Rome bites back a grin and starts packing up Mia’s things. “We’re leaving.”
King opens his mouth, as though he’s going to protest, but Huddy just smacks him. “Come on,” he says. “I have beer at my house.”
“Did you say beer?” West quips as he helps Quinn box up his model.
The next ten minutes are chaos—herding up kids, leashing bossy corgis, changing Mia’s clothes when she decides to pull an audible and spit up on her outfit.
Add in Jake’s mom showing up, the pizza being delivered, and Olive and Pear deciding that they want to make a break for the outside world, and I’m sweating by the time I close the door on King and the others.
Or maybe it’s that—on his way out—King had leaned close and murmured, “You are so screwed.” Then he’d patted me on the shoulder, grinned widely, and added, “And I fucking love that for you.”
I shake my head, throw the lock, and walk back into the kitchen to find Finn smiling as she dishes up pizza.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” But she’s laughing under her breath.
“Liar.” I move closer before I can stop myself. “Seriously. What?”
She glances at me, her eyes dancing, and just says, “Hockey players.”
“They’re idiots.”
“Maybe.” She just smiles. “How many slices do you want?”
I shove a plate in her hand. “Sit. Eat. Relax.”
“I can put a couple of slices of pizza on a plate, Rhodes,” she says exasperatedly.
“I know you can.” Then, because I’m apparently a glutton for punishment, I cup her cheek. God, her skin is like silk too. “But it’s your day off.”
“Stubborn,” she mutters.
“Pot. Meet. Kettle.”
She laughs but takes the plate and goes to sit down.
I get Chloe settled with a slice…then give in when she asks if she can eat in front of the TV.
Not the best habit, but she’s been running around like crazy today. A half hour of her favorite cartoon dogs and cats isn’t going to hurt her.
When I go back into the kitchen it’s to find Finn sitting at the table, looking innocent…probably because she’s put a few slices of pizza on a plate for me and opened up a beer.
I just shake my head.
But I’m not going to ignore the invitation, however silent it is.
“So,” I say as I dig into my pizza. “The hair?”
She touches the ends again. “I thought it was time for a change.”
“Yeah?”
“Do the thing I’m most scared of, right?”
My heart thuds hard against my ribs. “Yeah.”
We fall quiet as we eat, the sound of Chloe’s show filtering in.
“Can you show me how you did that braid sometime?” I blurt.
Her eyes widen slightly. “I’m sorry?”
“You did one on her yesterday,” I explain. “She wanted me to do it this morning.” I shrug helplessly. “It did not go well.”
“No?” She fights a smile. A real one.
And I really like seeing it.
“You seriously want me to teach you how to braid hair?”
“Why do you sound so shocked?”
“Because you’re…you?”
“How flattering,” I say dryly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You know,” I tease, “hockey players need to practice things too.”
“But you guys maneuver around on razor-thin blades.” She waves a hand. “And aren’t you all always talking about who has good hands?”
“Good hands—and I have them—have nothing to do with my Braiding Skills.”
She giggles. “Braiding Skills. Seriously?”
“Yeah, Stitch.” I hold her eyes. “So…will you teach me?”
Her expression shifts. Softens. “Sure,” she says quietly. “I can show you.”
“Thanks.”
Neither of us moves.
And for one reckless second I consider hauling her out of her seat, dragging her into my lap, and tasting her.
Right here in the kitchen.
With Chloe in the next room and absolutely no excuse except…that I want to.
That I need to.
“Can I have more pizza?” Chloe shouts.
I blink.
Table that urge.
Then I get up and bring my daughter some more pizza.