22. Chapter Twenty-Two #3
I dipped my head, shoving a little divide between my green beans and the chicken on my plate and hiding a grin. Happiness unfurled in my chest, sparkling with light and rainbows. Maybe I’d had one glass of wine too many. “Seems so.”
His thigh pressed against mine, his heat seeping through my dress straight into my bloodstream. My gaze bounced around the kitchen like a Ping-Pong ball—empty wine bottle, fancy appliances that probably cost more than my car, and hello, what’s this? A school calendar stuck to the fridge.
A school calendar for his daughter. Because Shep Landon had a child.
The wine turned sour in my stomach. Another hockey player living the dream and leaving little surprises behind. My fingers tightened around my glass. “So how’s the whole dad thing working out for you, superstar?”
Shep snorted and tossed back a swallow of his wine. “Slowly getting the hang of it.”
“Slowly?” The word popped out with more snap than intended. “Thirteen years wasn’t enough time to master the basics? Fourteen?”
“She’s thirteen. But I just found out about her. Just. Her mom and I hooked up when I went to a hockey camp held in Virginia Beach years ago. It was just one of those things. I came back home. She had Hannah. We hadn’t exchanged info, hadn’t done anything the right way. Just kids foolin’ around.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.” Another snort. “Cocky and clueless.”
I barked out a laugh. “Guess so.”
“Hannah’s mom bolted; left Hannah with her grandmother. She had even less of an idea of how to find me, so I never knew I had a daughter.” Sadness threaded through his words. My chest tightened, guilt mixing with my snap judgment.
“Anyway,” he continued, “Grams ended up with some health issues, we were in the playoffs, Hannah’s bestie was getting into hockey because of her brother playing in some kid league, and lo and behold, Grams recognizes me while watching a game with Hannah and her friend.
Next thing I know, they’re here and I’m fumbling through fatherhood 101. ”
“Wow. You weren’t kidding.” Well that explained his recent distraction, the family emergency, those adorable shadows under his eyes. Wait—adorable? The wine must be hitting harder than I thought. “Talk about playing catch-up.”
“You have no idea.” His half-smile held no charm, just bare truth.
I scanned the loft, channeling my inner detective. “Not seeing many signs of teenage occupation. No boy band posters, no glitter explosion…”
“She ran away from school today.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “So the decoration phase might have to wait.”
“Oh my god!” My heart squeezed. The golden boy mask slipped further, revealing something far more interesting beneath.
He laughed, the sound more a gruff exhalation than a sign of jubilance, and wagged his head. “It sounds worse than it turned out to be. And we made a deal, which I think is going to work out.”
It’s like my Ping-Pong victory hadn’t taught him anything about negotiating. “You’re all about the deals.”
Something dark flashed in his eyes, only to disappear in a blink.
“Speaking of…” He lunged off the stool and swept up the athletic bag he’d dropped at the end of the counter. A minute later, he pulled my beloved Pop from the depths. “I have an idea about this little dude.”
The words about Joonie stuck in my throat. A dozen questions about Hannah crowded my mind instead—how he planned to help her settle in, if she had friends yet, what made her run.
For the first time since I’d met him, Shep Landon’s golden shine cracked. Not the carefree player skating through life, but a man trying to navigate uncharted territory. My gaze traced the corded strength of his forearms, remembering how easily he’d lifted me at the water park.
I’d underestimated the risk of being here—of stepping into his space, of sharing something that felt dangerously close to intimate.
On some level, I’d known this was more than just dinner.
But this new understanding of Shep, tangled up with my already unhinged attraction to him?
It was like his vulnerability had cracked open a door, and my reckless heart was ready to charge straight through.
Memories of my mother surfaced, her absence an ache that never truly dulled, no matter how many lucky charms I carried or routines I perfected. I wanted to tell him about her. And I never wanted to talk about her. About the emptiness I could never quite fill.
I'd spent years missing my mother. The sense of belonging, of having my own people. Sure, I had Nat, my best friend since college who'd stuck with me through everything—even the Cale disaster. But it wasn't the same as having family.
I’d bet anything Hannah felt that same hollow space. Her mother gone, her grandmother trying to patch over an unfillable void. And now even that was gone, leaving her with only a stranger who shared her DNA but none of her history.
But as Shep cleared the table, scraping plates into the sink, tossing takeout containers, refilling my glass with a freshly opened bottle, something else settled in my chest. A different kind of want.
The way he moved—efficient, steady—felt at odds with the easy swagger he wore so easily.
Or maybe I was just seeing him clearly for the first time.
Not the golden boy image he and the team tossed out.
Not the cocky hockey player. Not Cale’s shadow.
Just Shep.
As strange and heartbreaking as Hannah’s story was, Shep’s was equally challenging.
And all signs pointed to him stepping up.
Wanting to do what was right for himself and his daughter.
His intensity sent a thrill through me. I’d seen him dominate the ice, exuding pure masculine sex appeal, a force that ignited my senses.
He was a warrior, even when facing his own daughter.
Tonight, every facet of the man sang to my senses, and not just in the way I’d come to expect. I’d known of his competitive nature, of course, but his drive to overcome every challenge, on the ice or in his personal life, was a powerful aphrodisiac.
He’d never looked as sexy as he did now.
He circled around the island, grace and power in perfect sync. When he stopped at the side of the Ping-Pong table, I squeezed my thighs. He plopped the figurine down on the edge. “I’ve got a proposal you’re not gonna wanna miss.”