Liam
“Nice shiner, old man,” his teammate Brock Labrone teased, slapping him on the back. “Anderson still striking fear in guys half his age, eh?”
“Those rookies should watch who they’re mouthing off to out there,” he said. “No respect these days.”
It would soon be half a year since their beloved mom, Kate, had passed away. Some nights, the loss felt as raw and devastating as the day it happened; other times, the heaviness lessened slightly, thanks to his two little rays of sunshine.
With a resigned sigh, he switched off the light and headed to the kitchen.
“Bloody hell,” a soft voice jolted him as he approached the fridge.
Liam spun around to find Sunny standing in the doorway, her golden-brown hair tousled and sky-blue eyes wide with shock. She wore a cotton camisole and shorts beneath her robe, her bare feet quiet on the floor.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Sunny said quickly, pulling her robe tighter around her lithe frame. “It’s just you look like you’ve been in a boxing ring, rather than an ice rink.”
“No, it’s…you’re fine,” he assured, slightly at a loss for words.
The last thing Liam wanted was to make her feel unwelcome or uncomfortable in his home; it was technically her home too, at least while she was in his service.
“I just wanted to fetch some water,” Sunny explained.
“Sure,” said Liam. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Sunny approached the tap, her eyes widening as she took in the full extent of his injury from a closer vantage point.
“Let me take a look,” she said, concern lacing her voice as she stepped closer.
She was just acting on instinct, being a caregiver, Liam reasoned. It was an admirable quality for a nanny, but caring for him wasn’t part of her duties.
“It’s okay,” he replied. “Occupational hazard.”
“Ssshhh,” she said automatically, as if he were one of the girls.
A memory of Kate flashed in his mind — the way she could have him eating out of her hand.
He tensed as her gentle fingers traced over his cheekbone and eye socket, assessing the damage with what seemed like clinical detachment. He remembered that first aid was part of her training.
But her close proximity sent a pulse of energy down his spine. She smelled of vanilla and soft florals, a stark contrast to the locker room odor he’d just been marinating in.
It had been so long since he’d been this close to a woman.
Stop it, he reprimanded himself. This was his kids’ nanny and an employee under his roof, not some starry-eyed puck bunny to ogle like a hormonal teenager.
Then again, Liam wasn’t blind. He could admit that Sunny Thompson was an incredibly beautiful young woman, all dewy skin and gentle curves. The sway of her soft brown waves framed her killer cheekbones and pouty lips.
And that’s enough, Anderson. Time for a cold shower. Act your age.
Pushing back his spiraling thoughts, Liam cleared his throat.
“So…prognosis?”
“Well,” Sunny pursed her lips, studying the damage with a practiced eye, “you’ll definitely be rocking one hell of a raccoon mask for the next week. But I don’t think it’s broken — just a lot of swelling and bruising.”
“Yup,” he replied. “That’s what the team doc said. Nice to get a second opinion, though.”
“I’ll get some ice,” Sunny said. “It’ll help reduce the puffiness.”
Before Liam could argue, she turned and padded off toward the fridge. He found himself shamelessly watching the hypnotic sway of her hips beneath the thin silk robe.
Get a grip, you bloody pervert.
A few moments later, Sunny returned with a frozen gel pack wrapped in a towel.
“Go sit,” she instructed, pointing toward the living room.
Liam obliged, sinking into the couch as Sunny sat beside him and gently applied the cold pack to his swollen eye. He hissed at the shocking chill against his throbbing skin, but her other hand came up to tenderly cup his cheek, holding his head in place while the compress did its work.
“There, just hold still for a bit,” she instructed.
Liam’s gaze flickered up to meet Sunny’s concerned blue eyes. To her, this was just first aid — dispensing care as required.
To Liam, it felt like something else entirely. But what?
She was exquisite up close like this. Those subtle golden flecks in her irises, the dusting of freckles across her button nose, the curved slope of her full, pink lips.
Stop it! his mind shouted for the millionth time.
He averted his gaze to the countless photo frames on the mantelpiece — his beloved wife, Kate. What kind of scumbag had designs on the nanny when their life partner had only just passed away? Sunny was an employee, he reminded himself again, not to mention close to a decade his junior.
At her age, he had still been all hormones and testosterone, chasing puck bunnies with the same reckless abandon he chased actual pucks on the ice.
He had to keep his gaze averted from her. That was the trick. Staring too long into those sparkling blue depths was a dangerous game. Maintain boundaries. Maintain self-control.
Maintain a shred of respect toward your ex-wife, you absolute dufus.
Clearing his throat, Liam sat up straighter and gestured vaguely with his free hand.
“So, uh, thanks for the patch job…but you should probably get some sleep, eh? I’ll be alright to take over from here, and the girls are bound to run you ragged tomorrow.”
He could have sworn he saw Sunny’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. Though whether from fatigue, guilt, or something else, he could not tell. But then she blinked and nodded briskly.
“Oh! Right, of course. You’ll want to switch out the compress when it gets warm and alternate warm and cold through the night to keep the swelling down.”
“Got it, thanks. Been here before,” he replied.
Liam mustered a tight smile, hoping to convey his gratitude without any unintended undertones.
Sunny chewed her plump lower lip pensively for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind about something. She met his guarded gaze with those earnest blue eyes.
“The girls — and I — are really glad you’re okay, Liam. Those brawls always look so brutal on TV. When we were watching…they got scared. They worry about you. I can’t say my heart wasn’t hammering away either.”
There it was again, that flicker of wistfulness in her tone that he didn’t quite know how to process.
Liam gave a sheepish shrug.
“It’s part and parcel of the job, no getting away from it,” he said. “And it pays for all this.” He gestured around the big house. “Plus the best schools and anything the girls could ever need. Everything comes with a price, but I’m hardly complaining about my station in life.”
Sunny searched his face with those impossibly bright blue eyes, seeming to find something in the depths of his expression.
“But you,” she said, “take care of you, Liam. Money and fame mean little to the girls. They just want their dad, whole and healthy. Big houses and big cars are nice things, but things are just…well…things. They aren’t people. They aren’t what really matter.”
Liam could hear echoes of Kate in those words. His wife would be mortified every time he came home with an injury, always telling him to hang up his skates and that he’d done enough for the team.
He felt his breath catch and a sheen of wetness form in his eyes.
Sunny looked stricken as she stared into his face. After a brief hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a feather-light kiss to his uninjured cheek.
“Take care, Liam,” she whispered. “You are needed here.”
Then she abruptly stood and left.
Liam was left alone with the sound of his own ragged breaths, the pictures of his late wife, and his swirling thoughts. Sunny’s kiss had been innocent, he reasoned — just a charitable gesture while he was in pain. There was probably no more to read into it.
Yet his cheek still tingled where her lips had brushed gently against his scruff. Every rational instinct warned him to keep the wall up, to maintain the boundaries firmly in place.
But a more reckless, primal part of him couldn’t help wondering how those honeyed lips might taste if she kissed him for real.