Chapter 24 – Brianna
“…And so, I got my whole fist on one spike and saved it, and the second just grazed my knuckles. Then coach took me out,” Sawyer says, her words spilling out excitedly as she bounces in her seat like she’s running on pure adrenaline.
Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright identical to her dad’s. She’s been like this since we sat down for dinner together replaying every second of her ten minutes on the court during her first away game in Boston.
And Seth is totally eating it up.
The way he’s looking at her… if love had a face, it would look exactly like Seth watching his daughter talk. He’s been locked in this whole meal, asking questions when she pauses, smiling warm as he listens. I don’t think he’s even blinked since she started talking.
I can see it written all over his face; he’s relieved she seems to have forgotten about yesterday.
“Keep it up, Spirit,” he says, his voice filled with support. “Sounds like you’re getting recognition for being a valuable asset.”
Sawyer beams at him.
Meanwhile I’m savoring the moment. I’ve barely touched my food because watching this interaction has been more nourishing than anything on my plate.
Their bond is so palpable it makes my chest ache.
I never had this with my dad and seeing it both hurts and heals me in ways I didn’t know were still broken.
Even while Seth’s giving Sawyer his full attention, his gaze keeps flicking toward me for just seconds, catching me off guard every time.
It’s not direct, not blatant, but the weight of it I feel.
We need to talk.
Those four words have been sitting in my chest since he said them, heat building low in my stomach every time our eyes meet. In the memory of that searing kiss he just gave me in his backyard.
No one has ever kissed me like Seth does.
He’s sitting at the head of the table, and I’m across from Sawyer, which should give us some distance, but physical distance doesn’t matter much when Seth’s gaze is on me.
Maybe I’m reading too much into these small moments that we’ve been sharing.
Romanticizing them. Letting myself get swept away in something that’s just starting…
no. I’m not imagining anything. Not when I remember the way he practically growled, telling me the only person he wants to spend time with is me.
Acting as though my suggestion for babysitting so he could go out and date was ludicrous.
That was real.
His hand slips under the table and settles against the exposed skin on my knee. His thumb brushes gentle circles against my knee, heat flooding my core.
This is real too.
Sawyer’s still talking, now about the book she read on the flight to Boston, and Seth’s listening to her, but he’s touching me.
It’s subtle. Not overly inappropriate but definitely not in a friendly manner.
Like a silent reminder that I’m not just the neighbor and nanny who helps out for extra cash anymore.
Or the woman he accidentally had a one-night stand with a year ago whose father is the owner of his professional hockey team.
I’m more. We’re more.
“When’s your next game?” Seth asks her, finally breaking the spell and removing his hand from my leg. I miss it immediately.
“Um…” Sawyer’s excitement dims for a second. Then her eyes shift to me. “Do you remember, Bri?”
Seth sighs softly. “Baby, you need to keep track of this stuff. Bri’s not always going to be here to memorize your schedule.”
Oh, ouch.
I don’t know why that stings a little. Maybe because I want to always be here. Maybe because I’m stupidly jumping ahead in my head with a guy who’s only a year out from his second marriage.
“It’s next Thursday,” I say softly, offering her a small smile. “Your first home game.”
Sawyer lights back up, her pout disappearing. “Will you be at it?” she asks her dad, her hopeful gaze locking onto him.
Seth mentally runs through his schedule, then nods. “Yes. I’ll make it work with practice. Can’t wait to see you play.”
“Will you come too?” Sawyer turns to me, her eyes wide and expectant.
“I’d love to.”
“We can go together,” Seth adds easily.
Together.
My heart stumbles over itself while my mind is screaming at me to slow down.
Too many mixed signals, Bri. You don’t know what he actually wants.
He wants to talk. Tonight.
I smile at Seth. “That sounds good. I’m going to grab the dessert. I made angel food cake.” For Seth, obviously. But also because angel food cake is life.
“I’m pretty tired,” Sawyer says, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. “Do you mind if I skip dessert and go read in my room? Bri brought me another book.”
“I do mind. Sit back down,” Seth says, his dad voice kicking in. “Bri took the time to make this meal for us and that includes dessert.”
“It’s really fine.” I smile at Sawyer. “I’ll save you a piece for tomorrow. Enjoy the book. I haven’t read that one yet, but my roommate did. She loved it.”
Seth looks at me then back at Sawyer then sighs. “That’s fine. Good night.”
She flashes me a grateful smile before skipping off, leaving Seth and me alone. He looks at me carefully. “I’ll make sure she eats it tomorrow.”
I shake my head. “It’s not a big deal. Not everyone likes angel food cake.”
His eyes narrow. “No, Bri, it is a big deal.” He pauses and swallows. “You made us this meal. You drove to Boston. You made my favorite dessert. You’re coming to my daughter’s volleyball game. Everything you do is a big deal, and I need you to stop diminishing that.”
I nod. “I enjoy it. It doesn’t feel like a big deal to me because I like spending time with her and… you.”
He leans closer, his hand finds my knee under the table again.
“I more than like spending time with you.” His gaze fixed on me now. “So, you didn’t speed-read this new book over at your house after I dropped you off, right? Because that would make me feel like shit since I was here sleeping.”
I smile and move to stand. “Don’t worry. Natasha read it a few weeks ago. She said it’s kid friendly. Not even a single kiss.”
“Not even a kiss?” Seth raises a brow, his voice all low and gravelly as I pull the angel food cake out of the fridge. I swear my mouth starts to water as I catch sight of the golden sponge. It’s light and fluffy, the kind of cake that melts on your tongue, and right now that’s exactly what I need.
I nod and remove the cover. “Yep. Totally action-packed. All the faeries and fae that her little heart could desire but zero romance included.”
“Hm.”
He stands and moves behind me, unhurried, until his body crowds my space and warmth settles along my back. Then he leans in. His lips brush the sensitive skin below my ear, barely there, and I freeze.
For a second, I swear I feel him inhale, subtle enough that I might've imagined it. Which is ridiculous because I just spent the last hour playing volleyball with his daughter and probably smell like sunscreen and sweat. Still, the thought sends heat crawling up my neck.
I stare straight ahead, suddenly very aware of how close he is. Close enough to kiss me. Close enough that I find myself waiting to see if he will. I hope he does.
“You smell amazing, but you don’t smell like me anymore.”
My heart isn't racing anymore, it's outright galloping. Because when we got back from Boston, I smelled him on my skin.
His hands settle over mine on the counter, caging them beneath his. A second later, his chest brushes my back until he’s pressed against me. Then he lowers his mouth to my neck. The first kiss is soft and brief.
The one that follows isn't.
His lips find the spot beneath my ear, and when he sucks lightly at my pulse, a shiver rolls through me. Heat blooms low in my stomach and spreads everywhere at once. I close my eyes and grip the counter harder, fighting for a steady breath.
“Seth. Sawyer’s still awake.”
He sucks on my pulse harder, and I can’t hold back from moaning.
“How about I handle clean-up in the kitchen,” he murmurs against my neck, his voice sending vibrations straight through me, “while you go relax? You’ve done so much for us this weekend. You need a break. Let me take care of you.”
“Relax?” I ask breathlessly.
“Yeah.” His lips brush gently against the shell of my ear, making me suck in a sharp breath. “We can watch a movie together and eat our dessert.”
That sounds nice except I want way more than to eat cake with Seth on his couch. I want him to touch me again. To kiss me again. To treat me like he did that first night we met when he didn’t know who I was.
“Okay… I’ll just get settled—” I step out of his arms toward the living room.
“No.” His gaze is serious. “In my bedroom.”
Oh.
Oh, hell yes.
“Okay.” Play it cool.
He smiles then nods at the dishes on the table. “I’ll take care of these.”
I hesitate for half a second before moving toward the stairs, but I pause at the bottom step. “But… what about Sawyer?” I hope I don’t sound presumptuous but I’m also not ready for his daughter to find me in her dad’s bedroom without an explanation.
“She’s exhausted,” Seth murmurs, shaking his head. “I can tell. She’ll be in her room all night and asleep within the next hour. Go. Relax.” He turns to the table and starts stacking plates.
I practically sprint up the staircase.
When I get to Seth’s bedroom, the door is cracked open just enough for me to peek inside.
The space is clean and masculine just like him.
There’s a massive king-sized bed dominating the center of the room, covered with a dark grey comforter that looks like it would swallow me whole.
With how exhausted I am from yesterday, I might like that.
The walls are bare except for a few random paintings of the beach and what looks like might be a west coast sunset, but the furniture is all classic and oak.
In the corner, a sleek desk sits neatly organized, with a stack of books carefully arranged next to his laptop.
Across the room, an open doorway leads to a massive en-suite bathroom, and holy hell.
I think there’s a clawfoot tub in there.
A gorgeous one that looks like it belongs in a five-star spa.
And tucked in the corner… A portable ice bath?
Of course. Seth’s an elite athlete. Recovery is everything.
Wow, this place is nice.
The whole room smells like him—clean, masculine, and a hint of that cologne that makes my knees go weak every time I catch a whiff.
I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling a little out of place, then scoot back until my spine is resting against the heavy headboard, one that I’m sure wouldn’t collapse under Seth’s weight.
Okay… now what?
Do I get under the sheets? Take off my clothes?
Is that what’s happening next here? I have no idea.
My heart pounds as a wave of self-consciousness hits.
I’m still a little sweaty from playing volleyball with Sawyer and it’s not like Seth told me we were going to have sex tonight.
He said ‘relax, watch a movie and we’ll eat cake. ’
He also said we need to talk. Which we do. We totally need to.
I scramble off the bed, feeling bad for even thinking about dirtying up his sheets, and move to the desk in the corner instead.
Pulling out the chair, I take a seat, running my fingers lightly over the smooth surface.
It’s warm. Lived in. Like everything in his life carries a purpose, including the carefully chosen books sitting in a neat stack beside his laptop.
Three parenting books—each one focusing on different gentle parenting techniques.
And the fourth is a book about raising teen girls.
My heart clenches.
Seth is putting in so much effort. How many single fathers go this far to understand their child?
To make sure they’re doing everything they can to be the best parent possible?
To overthinking every interaction until they feel sick that they’re getting it all wrong.
It’s certainly more than my dad ever did.
I blink, pushing that thought away just in time to catch Seth in the doorway watching me.
Arms folded across his big chest; there’s the ghost of a smile on his mouth.
He’s still in the same clothes he wore last night when we slept next to each other, his shirt slightly wrinkled and shorts hanging low on his hips.
Is it possible that I’m romanticizing every encounter we have? Totally. And is there a chance that spending time together outside of working at the Mayhem or caring for his daughter will eventually destroy me? Also, yes.
But it feels like it’ll be worth it.
“Sorry,” I say, feeling a little sheepish as I glance up. “I realized I was sweaty after I sat on your bed, so I moved over here. I wasn’t snooping.”
“I wouldn’t have minded if you were,” he says softly, and before I can process that, he’s crossing the room in just a few long strides. He sets two slices of the cake on the desk in front of me before running a flat palm across the surface of the oak.
“This desk was my father’s.”
“What happened to him?”
“Died in an accident when I was just a teenager.”
“Seth. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It’s one of the few things I’ve taken with me wherever Sawyer and I have moved. Whenever I see it, I remember him sitting here late at night, balancing his checkbooks for the family’s logging business.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He nods and then looks back at me with a smile.
“What movie did you want to watch?” I ask, my voice softer now. “The Wellingtons?” I’m teasing.
Seth’s deep laugh rumbles through his chest. “That’s fine with me.”
“I was kidding.”
He shrugs. “I wasn’t. Let’s see what the lovely couple is up to today.”
I grab a slice of cake as he moves to the foot of the bed and lowers himself to the floor, leaning back against the mattress. Part of me is relieved we aren't sitting on the bed. The other part wishes we were.
I carry my plate over and settle beside him, mirroring his position.
Our shoulders brush as we face the TV, and I'm suddenly very aware of how little space exists between us.
He looks unfairly good like this. Relaxed.
Comfortable. Like we're doing something completely normal instead of watching porn together.
I take a bite of cake, determined to act like a functioning adult. Then he taps something on his phone.
“Ah, they just uploaded a new episode.”
A second later, the giant TV across the room lights up with their faces.
I nearly choke on my cake.
She’s in a maid outfit. He’s in a top hat, sporting a thick, fake mustache, and smoking a cigar while wearing no pants.
He’s fully erect and her nipples are visible through her costume.
They move into a closet that’s somehow also a secret library, and before I know it, Mr. Wellington bends Mrs. Wellington over and—oh. Oh wow.
He’s fucking her with the end of her dusting broom.
I glance at Seth, waiting for him to crack a joke, but he doesn’t. He’s not watching the show. He’s watching me, eyes locked on mine, the untouched angel food cake in his hand completely forgotten. And then I see it—the moment his control gives way and something in him finally snaps.
“Fuck it.”