2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Molly
I thought bringing a book to read at a hockey game while I held my nephew would be a good idea.
Spoiler: it wasn’t.
Before I got to the arena, I stopped at a bookstore around the corner and picked up three romance novels in the best seller section. When I walked past the thrillers, I averted my eyes, avoiding Rose E. Rhymes’s bold, dark covers, and purchased the romance books like they were contraband.
I started reading the first one while I waited for Lucas to bring Henry to me. He had been in the locker room when I got there and there was no way I was going to walk into a roomful of shirtless men to get my nephew, no matter how many times he told me the guys didn’t mind at all.
Shirtless, much like the hero on the cover of Blooming Passion.
I had the poor cover straining, wrapped as far back as it would go, and slammed it into my purse the second Lucas walked out.
I couldn’t let my brother see what I was reading.
The poor guy on the now-tattered cover looked as if he was being birthed from an orchid, naked except for some heavy-handed bronzer.
His abs were nice, though. I might have stroked my fingers across them—alone in my car—and imagined what it would feel like to touch some in real life.
There were a lot of abs skating around the ice, albeit covered by padding and jerseys. But I knew what they were hiding. Lucas used to have guys over all the time when he was still living at home, and none of his friends were shy about ripping their shirts off in front of me.
It was a horrible dilemma. I had sworn off love after the Marcus Kent incident, and then a couple of years later, Lucas had enough boys filtering through our house that I could have had my pick of them for my first boyfriend.
All of them were just old enough to be in their freshman or sophomore year in high school while I was ruining my reputation with guys my age, so they had no idea what I had done.
Like I said, it was too bad love wasn’t in the cards for me.
And then there was Preston Ledger, my brother’s oldest and closest friend.
As if I could forget him, the Jumbotron played an animation of his name, along with a montage of official pictures.
I couldn’t help smiling at his posed Disney Prince images.
He grew up next to us and was among the shirtless boys flaunting washboard abs.
He was adorable, but we were never anything more than friends.
The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the first period, and Henry bounced on my lap, eager to see the ice better.
I got to my feet, stretching for both of us, and Preston skated in front of the boards, waving to Henry.
Henry, recognizing the man who was like an uncle to him, wriggled in my arms and grunted as he stretched forward.
Preston’s smile grew as he made cute faces at Henry. Henry giggled, kicking his legs harder. Yeah, I would not be reading at this game. Henry was changing almost daily, and the sleeping baby I was used to holding at hockey games had turned into a perpetual motion machine overnight.
“You’re going to sleep so well for daddy tonight, aren’t you?” I said, getting a better hold of him.
Preston looked up, his eyes landing on mine, and he winked before blowing me a kiss. All the women around me swooned—yes, swooned—and I rolled my eyes.
For the rest of the game, I’d have to hear chatter about how handsome he was and how adorable it was that he interacted with a fan’s baby.
He was handsome, so they wouldn’t be wrong there.
I studied his face as he took off his helmet and stood just outside the box, gulping water.
Preston’s warm, light brown eyes always looked like he was hiding a secret.
The type of secret that would make me laugh—something he was good at.
He was tall and lean, and fast on the ice.
His auburn hair was the perfect length to run my fingers through.
I could even pull it if that was something he liked, I mused, a smile tugging at my lips as I imagined it.
My eyes widened, and I hugged Henry to me. I could not think those thoughts about Preston. He was like a brother to me. He wasn’t my brother, but still. He was close enough. Lucas would flip if he thought one of us had feelings for the other.
My stomach twisted, and I settled back in my seat, rummaging through Henry’s bag to find a snack for him.
What was wrong with me? I’d read like five pages of Blooming Passion and, yeah, the steamy bits started early, but it wasn’t as if it was the first sex scene I’d ever read. I needed to pull myself together.
The woman next to me smiled widely and waved to Henry. “Does his daddy play hockey?”
I nodded and pointed at my brother. “He does.”
“Did you see the way Preston Ledger was cooing at him?” The woman leaned back in her chair and groaned. “The cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah, he’s like an uncle to Henry,” I said, thankful to have something to say so we could avoid small talk.
The woman’s eyes widened. My stomach flipped. I knew that look. “I gave him my number before the game. Shawna. Put in a good word for me?”
The second period started, mercifully drowning out my botched answer, and I faced Henry and I forward. My stomach twisted harder, like I was wringing out a frayed dishrag. Was I jealous? Of Preston?
I knew he slept with fans—puck bunnies. And he had a reputation for doing it.
A lot. That wasn’t news. And I didn’t have feelings for him.
What some random woman next to me thought about him shouldn’t bother me.
It shouldn’t bother me she wanted me to be her wingman, either.
I wanted Preston to be happy and if sleeping around did it for him, who was I to judge?
“So, was that a yes?” Shawna asked.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I choked out.
She grinned and slurped her soda. “Perfect.”
I focused on Henry, ignoring the ache in the pit of my stomach. I should have taken Lucas up on the offer to sit in the family section, but that always felt more reserved for spouses.
Something I would never be.