Chapter 1
ALLY
“Am I crazy?” I asked, staring down at my small bump. I was officially twenty-six weeks pregnant, and Dom still didn’t know. I had to tell him, I knew that, but by the time I’d discovered I was pregnant, the NHL season was almost over, and I figured he probably headed back home to Montreal on the whole other side of the continent the second he could. It wasn’t like I was going to randomly run into him or anything.
Not that I would during the season anyway, since I was in San Francisco, and he played in Denver now.
Yeah, I was working way too hard to come up with excuses for not telling him.
Darcy’s voice came over the phone. “You’re not crazy.”
“Tell that to my ridiculous thoughts.” They were entirely the fault of the diva inside who had taken over my body and my brain.
“Ally, it’s going to be fine. You’re just going to tell him the truth. It’s why you’re in Denver right now.”
“I’m actually here for a conference, too,” I muttered. “For my job, remember?”
Darcy chuckled. “See? Perfect timing. You can tell Dom he’s going to be a father and learn tips and tricks to continue being a kick-ass statistician. Win-win.”
She wasn’t wrong. The timing was perfect. It was late August, so Dom would be back in Denver getting ready for training camp, and I had a conference I needed to attend in the area. I figured I would just quickly give him the news, tell him I was good with raising her on my own, and everything would be fine. Easy-peasy.
I slumped down on the small loveseat in my hotel room and tried not to let my anxiety take over. I’d kept this from him for twenty-six weeks—well, to be fair, twenty-twoish weeks since I hadn’t discovered my knocked-up state until a month in. I shook my head.
“Stop freaking out, Ally.” Darcy’s tone was soft but not placating.
“Am I crazy to want to do this on my own? I mean, I’m only twenty-six,” I said.
“We talked about this, and you made a list of the pros and cons. You want to be a mom and you have a great, stable job, you can work remotely, and a family that loves and supports you. Not to mention a bestie that will be over there snuggling that little peanut any time you need a break. You can do this, Ally.”
I smiled, placing my hand on my belly. After the shock had worn off from seeing all those positive tests, I’d really thought about what it would be like to have this baby.
Darcy was right. I’d always wanted to be a mother, and I could do this. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, and I would need help from the people who loved me, but I wanted this baby. And when I’d heard her heartbeat flood the exam room the first time, my decision solidified.
My parents had questioned my decision, saying that I was awfully young to be doing this alone, that it was going to be hard, maybe too hard. But I was determined to be the best mom ever. I hadn’t told any of my family who the father was. My brother, Ethan, would’ve lost his mind since he’d warned me away from Dom more than once when Dom had been on the Strikers.
Yes, Dom had been a cocky rookie, a total player, but he was fun. And annoying my brother by flirting with Dom had been an extra benefit. It was a job as a little sister that I took very seriously. I giggled.
“Ally? Are you okay? Being silent and then giggling is weirding me out,” Darcy said.
“Sorry, Darc. Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about what Ethan will do if he finds out that Dom’s the father of his soon-to-be-born niece.”
Darcy chuckled. “Yeah. You’re Little Harty, after all. I’m sure a lot of the guys will be lined up to knock Dom out. It’s taken everything in me not to tell Jake.”
“Bestie code,” I said, ignoring the nickname given to me by my brother’s teammates. Ethan Hartnell was a guy everyone loved, and since his nickname was Harty, I’d become Little Harty. I didn’t mind it for the most part, except when they turned into a band of big brothers I didn’t need.
“Always.”
Her boyfriend, Jake Northman, was not only Ethan’s best friend, but until Darcy had come along, he’d been the resident bad boy on the Strikers. It’d been sweet watching Darcy soften him up.
I rubbed my hand over my belly and felt the little diva moving around in there. It was a sensation that I would never get enough of.
“It’s going to be fine, Ally,” Darcy said again. “You’ve got this.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I just needed you to pep me up.” Then I laughed a bit. “That always used to be my job.”
“Figured it was my turn to lift you up. Not that you need it because you are going to rock this mom thing, I know it. So, just hunt Dom down, give him the news, say whatever you need to say, and then come home. It’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” The nerves were picking up speed again—or maybe that was just the diva fluttering around. When the doctor told me I was having a girl, I was beyond happy. Not that I would’ve minded being a boy mom, but I was excited for a girl. Maybe I could teach her to terrorize my brother just like I did. Ethan was going to be an amazing uncle.
“Now, go have a snack or something, put on something you feel awesome in, and go tell that baby daddy that he’s going to have a kid. But I just want you to be ready for his response. He might want to be involved.”
I scoffed. “He won’t. He said he never wanted kids, that they weren’t in the cards for him.”
“We talked about this too. And like I told you then, he said that years ago, and he could’ve changed his stance.”
“I guess it’s possible.” I sighed. “You know, I’m not going to tell him he can’t be in her life if he wants to, but honestly, it would make it messy, and I don’t know which way is easier.”
“Ignore the list we made.”
“Lists are important and help make informed decisions,” I said matter-of-factly.
She laughed. “We both love spreadsheets too much.”
I stamped my feet. “Nothing wrong with that, and you know it.”
“Yes, but just be open to what he says and figure out what you really want. What you need.” She’d said the same thing to me multiple times in the last five-plus months.
That was the problem. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up that Dom would want anything to do with us. With her.
“For a second, stop thinking about what-ifs. Just go see him and keep the conversation open. And if he doesn’t want to be involved, we’ll figure it out.”
I sighed. “I know.” And I would be okay with that. She would have more than enough people in her life to love her.
“Just be open to it, okay?”
“I will be. Ugh. I can’t believe I’m finally doing this. Can’t I just put it off a little longer?” I whined.
“Stop. You’re in Denver, and he’s back there, too. The timing is perfect, and you know it,” she replied.
Yes, I knew he was in town. We’d scoped out his social media last week, and he’d posted a pic with some of his teammates at some local bar in Denver.
“You are an amazing, strong woman. You’re going to tell him what’s going on, and then we’ll deal with whatever happens, right?” Darcy said, her voice stern.
“Yes, Mom,” I teased.
“You’re the one who’s going to be a mom. An awesome mom. And the first step is letting the dad know, then you can figure out where to go from there. Seriously, you’re one of the most confident people I know, Ally. Everything is going to work out.”
“I hope so,” I mumbled.
“Go eat a cookie or something, get that blood sugar up, then hunt him down.”
“Hunt who down? Who are you talking to?” Jake’s voice carried through the phone.
Shit.
“Just talking to Ally. Aren’t you supposed to be meeting the guys for some cardio or something?” Darcy asked, her voice slightly muted as she pulled the phone away from her mouth.
“Trying to kick me out so I won’t figure out all your secrets?” Jake’s tone was firm, but Darcy just laughed.
Watching their relationship grow always warmed my heart. Big, bad hockey player meets quiet, studious grad student. Add in a bit of fake dating and a happily ever after was guaranteed. I’d known it from the start, and I’d never seen my bestie happier.
“What’s the saying, again? Chicks before dicks,” Darcy said sweetly, and I spit out the sip of water I’d just taken.
Jake burst out laughing. “You did not just say that.”
Darcy chuckled. “Couldn’t resist. Now, go work on those muscles of yours while I share secrets with Ally.”
I heard a low murmur, and then Darcy gasped softly.
“Uh, guys, I can hang up now.” I grinned. They were so damn perfect for each other.
“No, no. He’s leaving.” Darcy’s voice was a little breathless.
“Enjoy Denver, Little Harty,” Jake said through the phone.
There were a few murmurs and a little squeak from Darcy; then, I heard the door shut.
“Okay, I’m back. Sorry, I had to distract him from the whole secrets thing. It’s been brutal not saying anything to him, but I promised, and it’s your story to tell, not mine.”
“And I love you for that. Also, chicks before dicks.” I burst out laughing again. “Didn’t know you had that in you. I could say that I guess Jake’s rubbing off on you, but we already know that. How red is your face?”
“Oh, Shut up. But you’re feeling better right now, aren’t you?”
I sighed. “I was.”
“It’s going to be fine. I promise. Now, go to a cafe and get a cookie or something. Clear your mind. It’s going to be fine,” she repeated.
“I hope so. I really do.”
DOM
I bumped up the speed on my treadmill another notch.
“We racing?” Xan asked from the treadmill next to mine.
“I’d smoke you, and you know it,” I fired back.
He chuckled and increased his speed, barely breaking a sweat. This was my first workout with any of my teammates since our last season ended way too quickly. I was amped up to start my second season as a Stampede member, ready to shuck off the sting of not making the playoffs in April.
It was the first time in my NHL career that I hadn’t played in the postseason. Before getting picked up in the expansion draft for the Stampede, I’d spent my entire career as a San Francisco Striker. Hell, we took home the Cup in my final season with them. It still pissed me off that I’d gone from a Cup-winning team to an expansion team with no chance of seeing the playoffs anytime soon. Yeah, Vegas had been an anomaly their first year, and making it that deep with a brand-new team wasn’t expected, but still.
Tapping the button on the treadmill, I upped my speed again, ignoring Xan’s chuckle. So I was competitive; sue me. I was a fucking professional hockey player, and I’d been a hotshot rookie a few years ago—it was in my nature to be the best. Call me cocky; I didn’t care. I’d been called that my entire life, and aside from not being protected in the Stampede draft, it’d served me well.
I glanced around the workout room. It was state of the art and I couldn’t have asked for a better space. The owners of the Stampede had spared no expense to give us everything we needed, including offering us housing in a brand-new condo building that most of us ended up living in. Maybe living in the same building with the bulk of the team, along with working every day with them, could be a bit much, but I loved it.
There were only a handful of us in town at the moment, but more would be showing up daily since training camp was scheduled to start in the next week. I couldn’t wait to get back on the ice. Not that I’d stayed away from it during the off-season. Slacking on training year-round was the quickest way to end your career, and I was only twenty-five. I had a long fucking career ahead of me, hopefully.
“We’re grabbing dinner at Tipsy tonight. You in?” Xan asked, barely out of breath as our feet pounded on the treads.
“Sure,” I said. Tipsy Steer was the unofficial Stampede bar. Had everything we needed: near the arena, good food, stellar beer list. What more could a bunch of hockey players want to wind down or celebrate a win?
A few of the other guys showed up, jumping onto the other machines in the room, and we caught up on what we’d all done for our too-long summer. Chirps were thrown, and casual bets about who could lift the most or who was going to best Micah’s pull-up record from last year’s training camp were lobbed. The usual mix of ribbing, and it felt fucking great. I’d traveled for part of our time off, but I’d ended up spending too much time in Montreal, where my family lived close by. Too close. I’d wanted to play in the local pro league to keep my training up, but that also meant that my family could show up whenever they wanted—and my overbearing father had, multiple times. Usually, with a hockey buddy of his who was an “expert” on how I could improve my game.
I was grateful to be back in Denver, away from my father. He’d played in the NHL for two seasons before destroying his knee, so he’d been harping on me since I laced up my skates for the first time when I was four. I was better than him, and that wasn’t ego talking, just straight skill and stats, but he was always on me to be the best, to be gritty and win at all costs. He’d spent this past summer giving me shit for ending up on an expansion team and not making the playoffs.
I should’ve stayed in Denver just to avoid his bullshit, but I would’ve felt guilty ducking my mom, too, so I’d gone and immediately regretted it. Unlike Dad, Mom was indifferent about everything, and I knew I shouldn’t have let it bother me as much as it did. She never pushed me in hockey, but she used my father’s single-mindedness as a reason to drive home her point of him being a shitty father and all-around person.
Fucking dysfunctional nightmare.
I internally shook my head and focused on being present. They were back in Montreal, and I was in Denver with my teammates. I needed to tap into the energy that always came with the start of training camp and a new season. We could only go up after last year, and we were going to the fucking playoffs this time. I was determined. Yeah, it didn’t entirely would hinge on me, but I was going to put in my all to help get us there.
And not just to get my old man to shut the fuck up for once.
I hopped off the treadmill and did a circuit with weights to get in a full-body workout. I’d hit the ice tomorrow, and I couldn’t wait. The rest of the morning flew by with teammates coming and going. This was my element, and I was so damn happy to be back in it. Yeah, I missed my old team. I’d been a Striker for five years, but I’d settled in with my new team last year, and Denver was starting to feel like home.
***
Later that afternoon, I opened the door at Sugar on Top, a local bakery that the guys and I all frequented, and not just because the owner was currently dating one of my teammates. Her baked goods were to die for. I had a sweet tooth to rival that of pretty much anyone on the team, and I couldn’t resist stopping in whenever I was in the general vicinity of the place.
Who was I kidding? I’d walk a few extra miles just to grab one of Anna’s cinnamon chip scones.
“Hey, Dom, it’s been a while,” Anna said when I walked toward the counter.
I tapped my fingers on the glass. “Just got in yesterday.”
Jordan, the manager, laughed. “That explains it.”
I grinned. “What can I say? I can’t resist your sweets.”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “Cinnamon scone and an iced mocha with an extra chocolate swirl coming right up.”
“Should I package up a box for the guys?” Anna asked. She was always supplying us with baked goods. It amazed me that she managed to fall for the one guy on the team who didn’t like sugary goodness. Santa was seriously missing out.
“I’ll never say no to that,” I said, flashing her a smile.
Then I swore I heard someone mutter my name. Actually, it had sounded like, Dom, you never change, dripped in sarcasm.
I turned and froze.
“Holy shit. Ally?” I dumbly asked, staring at the woman who was never far from my thoughts. She wasn’t exactly an ex since we never really dated. Just a shit ton of flirting and a few hookups during my first three seasons as a Striker. She was also the younger sister of one of my old teammates, so I should’ve stayed away from her, but she was fucking addicting with her soft black hair that I loved sinking my fingers into and a mouth that kissed like a fucking dream. Not to mention all the other amazing things she could do with that mouth.
Fuck. My cock stirred, thinking about our most recent hookup at the end of last season when we’d played the Strikers in San Francisco.
The team had stayed in town for an extra night, and I ended up at Crash and Byrne, the Strikers’ favorite bar, to catch up with some of my old teammates. After a couple of beers, Ally showed up, and we went back to her place. We’d never been able to keep our hands off each other whenever we got near one another.
And now she was sitting in my favorite bakery, with her perfectly arched brow, giving me a look I couldn’t fully decipher.
What was she doing in town?
“Hi, Dom.” She fidgeted with the napkin next to her plate.
Ally never fidgeted.
“Don’t move,” I said, quickly paying and then grabbing my coffee and scone. I ignored Anna’s and Jordan’s questioning looks.
“What are you doing in Denver?” I asked. “And not even a text to tell me you were coming to town?” I asked with a smirk.
“How quickly you switch course,” she said, sounding annoyed.
“What?” I slipped into the seat across from her. Why was she being so pissy?
“You didn’t have to stop flirting with that employee on my account,” she quipped.
“Flirting? Wait.” I laughed. “Are you jealous?”
She sucked in a breath. “Of course not.”
I gave her a pointed look. “You sure about that?” I didn’t know why I was baiting her.
She muttered something under her breath before speaking up. “Yes. I’m sure. Why are you so irritating?”
I shrugged. “Part of my charm, I guess.”
She snorted.
“And I wasn’t flirting with Jordan. She’s a friend. One of my teammates is dating Anna, the owner, so we’re all in here a lot.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to explain myself to Ally.
She looked good, even with her pinched expression, and I resisted the urge to reach for her. I knew exactly how her hair felt wrapped around my fist, and I wanted a repeat.
Fuck.
Her pale blue eyes never failed to mesmerize me, and the faint blush staining her cheeks made me think about how far that blush extended down her body when I was fucking her.
“Dom,” she drew out, and I pulled my eyes away from her throat. If I put my tongue there, would her pulse flutter against it?
“What are you doing right now? Want to go catch up at my place?” I asked, unable to stop myself. I wanted her. I always wanted her.
She leaned back away from me when my fingers grazed across the back of her hand on the table.
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” I said, my voice low.
“I need to go. Uh, I’ll see you around,” she said, pushing her chair back.
Before I could utter another word, she’d grabbed her stuff and was out the door.
What the hell had just happened?