by Kendall Ryan
I huff, pretty sure he doesn’t believe me. “Well, for your information, I’ve never done anything like that. So if you think you’re getting your dick sucked tonight or something, just because you bought us some diapers . . .”
Alexei holds up his hand. “Whoa. That’s not why I brought you here. And no offense, but I can get my dick sucked anytime I want.”
I have no idea what to make of that comment, like he’s got a bevy of women at his beck and call. But then the elevator doors slide open, and for a second, I just stand there and stare.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but his apartment is enormous. Polished marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the entire city dominate my view. There’s a modern kitchen that’s all stainless steel, white cabinets, and black granite, and a sunken living room with two huge, fluffy, cream-colored couches. The biggest flat-screen TV I’ve ever seen is mounted on one wall, and a hallway at the far end leads off to what I assume are the bedrooms.
“Come on in,” he says.
I step off the elevator and follow him inside. Alexei sets the shopping bags on the counter while I free Ella from her car seat. Once she’s in my arms, she begins crying again, and I let out a long exhale.
“May I?” he asks.
I pinch my lips together and hand Ella to him. I hate to admit defeat, but he does seem to know what he’s doing more than I do.
She looks so tiny resting against his massive chest. It doesn’t matter that the last thing I’m in the market for is a man, but seeing him with her does something to me. I think the technical term is ovary explosion. The way his big hands cradle her so carefully is so sweet that I nearly melt for this stranger who shouldn’t affect me like this at all.
Needing to make myself useful, I grab one of her bottles from my purse and dig the tub of baby formula out of the shopping bag. “I’ll feed her so we can go to bed and get out of your hair.”
He shrugs. “It’s no problem. I’m honestly more of a night person.”
I nod but continue making her bottle anyway. I doubt she’ll last much longer. Over the past couple of days, I’ve learned that she likes to eat about every four hours. Everything has been trial and error since. Andi left me exactly zero instructions.
Alexei’s deep voice interrupts my daydream. “There’s bottled water in the pantry.” He nods to the door at the end of the kitchen.
I go and grab a bottle of water and begin mixing up the formula.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “You just got off work . . . I have pretzels, crackers, fruit, or I could make you a frozen pizza.”
My stomach rumbles loudly at the mention of food. “That would be great, actually. Just something simple. Pretzels would be fine.”
When the bottle is ready, Alexei reaches for it, uninterested in putting Ella down, it seems. I’m not sure why it surprises me that he’d like to feed her. He really is a natural with babies.
And even though I probably shouldn’t, part of me just feels comfortable in his presence. It’s unexpected, but I’m not complaining. “Would you mind if I took a shower? I actually feel kind of gross after I work.”
“Not at all. Second doorway on the right. The towels are in the cabinet. Help yourself.”
I nod, but then hesitate for a moment longer.
“I’ve got her, Ryleigh. You don’t have to worry.”
Smiling, I meet his eyes. I haven’t had someone to help, someone to just be there for me in so long, that it makes my chest tighten. I have to turn away quickly because I’m afraid the emotional roller coaster I’ve been on since Andi left me with Ella will surface in front of Alexei, and I’m not sure I’m ready to be that vulnerable in front of this man.
“Thanks,” I say finally, ducking out of the kitchen as I rush for the sanctuary of the bathroom and a shower that will wash my tears away quietly.
• • •
When I emerge from the bathroom, I hear Alexi cooing softly to the baby and singing her a lullaby in what I assume is Russian. She’s cradled in his arms, her eyes sleepy as she looks up at him. The sight of her tiny fingers wrapped around his index finger almost brings me to my knees. Involuntarily, though, my mouth breaks into a smile as I listen for a moment longer. Then I clear my throat.
“Hey,” he says, his lips turning up in a smirk. “Your shower okay?” His gaze wanders from mine down to my bare legs, and then back up.
My hair is damp, and I’ve changed into a pair of purple boxer shorts and an oversized T-shirt. I can feel my cheeks turn pink, but I nod and join him on the couch.
“That showerhead is seven-ways-to-Sunday amazing.”
He chuckles. “Completely agree. That showerhead alone is worth double its price when you need to relax.”
He places Ella so she’s reclining on the couch, propped up by her new Boppy pillow and swaddled in her blanket like a little stuffed burrito.
“She took the whole bottle, and then I changed her. She should be ready for bed anytime.”
“Thank you.” I give her tiny pajama-covered foot a squeeze. It’s only then that I notice the spread on the coffee table. A white platter contains a bunch of green grapes, sliced cheese, pretzels, and hummus.
“Wow. You didn’t have to do all that, thank you.” I help myself, popping a grape into my mouth.
“It wasn’t any trouble.”
Alexei watches while I eat, helping myself to a little bit of everything.
“This place is amazing. How long have you lived here?” I ask.
He considers my question, still watching me. “I moved to the city about three years ago.”
“For work?”
He nods.
“What do you do?”
“I play for the Chicago Hawks.”
It takes me a moment to process this. I’m not a sports person—not in the slightest. But I realize he’s talking about the pro football team. “What position?”
“Linebacker.”
I guess that explains why he’s so huge. He’s several inches over six feet tall, and at least a couple hundred pounds of solid muscle.
“Ah. It makes sense now.” I pop another pretzel in my mouth, chewing slowly.
“What does?” he asks, lifting one dark brow curiously.
“That comment about getting a blow job whenever you want.”
He shakes his head, his smirk fading. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. It was very out of line for me.”
I shrug. “What? I’m sure it’s true. Women generally line up and drop to their knees for athletes, right? Like they’re some special, secret aphrodisiac.”
“But not you?” he asks, seeming amused by me.
I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry, no. Sports don’t really do it for me. I’m more impressed you knew what a Boppy pillow is for.”
Alexei chuckles, and I like the sound of it immediately. It’s deep and rich, and uninhibited.
When I finish eating and look at Ella again, resting between us, her little eyelids have fallen closed. She’s sound asleep.
“Can I ask whose baby this is?” he asks.
At first, I wondered if he might be skeptical, might think that she’s mine. But given the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing with her, I think he knows I’m telling the truth. “My ex-roommate, Andi. She left her with me a couple of days ago. I’ve been trying to call her nonstop since, but her cell phone is turned off. I have no idea when she’s coming back.”
He nods, looking thoughtful. “Come on. Let’s get you guys to bed.”
I nod and rise to my feet, lifting Ella carefully so as not to wake her. Alexei carries the platter into the kitchen, wraps it in plastic, and sets it inside his refrigerator.
He leads us into a bedroom down the hall. There’s a queen-size bed dressed in a fluffy white down comforter, and a Pack ’n Play set up in the corner.
Oh my God. The man comes complete with a Pack ’n Play. What planet am I living on?
“Thought this bedroom would be best for you. When I ba
bysit my sister’s littlest one, I put her down for a nap in here. Everything’s clean, though. My housekeeper was just here and laundered all the bedding.”
It’s more than I could have hoped for. It’s more than I have for Ella at my place.
“Thank you. This is perfect,” I murmur, tears threatening to spill again.
Alexei is standing so close that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. I can feel his eyes on me, piercing me, as I bend over and carefully place Ella inside her bed for the night.
“If you need anything, my door’s at the end of the hall. I’ll keep it open. Just holler, okay?”
I nod, suddenly unable to form words at how sweet and kind this complete stranger has been to me tonight.
Alexei takes one last look at Ella before turning to face me. “Good night.”
I watch the way his muscles bunch and move underneath his fitted long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.
Everything about the past couple hours has been surreal. Too good to be true. I can’t think about it without my heart clenching and belly tingling with nerves.
Once I turn out the light and climb into bed, I realize how exhausted I am. I worked a double shift today, and all the muscles in my body are limp and tired. I relax into the feather pillows and close my eyes.
Lying alone in this room with the soft sounds of Ella breathing, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing, and no idea what I’ll do tomorrow.
I have a lot to worry about—paying my rent and my heating bill, and taking care of Ella while trying to track down Andi. But right now, in this moment, I feel comforted and content, all thanks to a nice man who cared enough to help tonight.
As I look over toward the Pack ’n Play, though, I know that Ella is warm and fed. And that’s enough to give me pause, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to say the same thing in a couple of days.
Chapter Three
Alexei
I wake to the unfamiliar sounds of someone cooking in my kitchen—the sizzle of bacon in a pan, dishes clinking together. It’s an unusual but not unwelcome sound. I’ve lived alone for the past eight years, ever since I graduated from college and went pro. Smiling, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand.
The morning erection tenting my boxers will need to be dealt with, but now isn’t the time. Instead, I head into the bathroom and brush my teeth while I wait for it to deflate. Then I throw on some athletic shorts and a white T-shirt, and make my way into the kitchen.
Ryleigh’s hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Without the makeup she wore last night, she looks even younger. She’s barefoot in my kitchen, singing the lyrics to some pop song that’s constantly on the radio. She finishes cooking a skillet filled with scrambled eggs and turns off the gas burner.
“Morning,” I say, my voice still raspy from sleep.
“Hi. Good morning,” she chirps.
“You made breakfast?”
“There’s bacon and coffee, and toast too. I figured being an athlete, you have a healthy appetite. And then I saw all the ingredients in your fridge. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. This is great.”
I help myself to a mug and fill it with coffee. I usually don’t bother making coffee at home, opting to pick some up on the way out instead. It’s a rare treat to enjoy a morning like this at home.
“Where’s Ella?” I ask.
“She woke up early, just before six. She’s already napping again.”
I nod, seeing that it’s already eight. “I need to be at practice in an hour.”
“I have to work later too. Will you drop us off on your way?”
“Uh . . . yeah, of course.”
I don’t like the thought of them going back to her apartment, especially since it doesn’t have heat, but I hope to have that fixed shortly. I emailed my manager last night, gave him Ryleigh’s address, and asked him to pay whatever she owed to the electric company so the heat could be turned back on.
I help myself to a plate piled with perfectly crisp bacon, eggs, and toast, then take a seat at the breakfast bar. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Ryleigh nods and takes a plate for herself. “Thank you. For everything. I mean, you could have just kept walking last night.”
“I know, but that’s not me.” I run a hand through my hair.
“Why didn’t you?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question. “The truth?” I say after swallowing a bite of bacon.
She nods, and brings a forkful of eggs to her lips.
“It’s probably going to sound cheesy, but it seemed like you needed help. That guy seemed like a real fucking creep. Excuse my language, and my mom raised me better than to just walk by a woman in need.”
A smile tugs up one side of her mouth. “You’re quite the gentleman.”
“Something like that.” I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about me. On the outside, I’m as gentlemanly as they come. But on the inside, I’m pretty much like every other red-blooded male. I like casual sex—a lot of it, most definitely watch too much porn, and I curse like a sailor when I’m with my boys. Minor details that will stay under lock and key because somehow I like her thinking that I’m just a gentleman.
“These are perfect, by the way.” I take another bite of eggs. I swear they’re the best eggs I’ve had in ages.
Ryleigh smiles as she watches me eat. “Glad you’re enjoying them.”
I want to hold her blue eyes captive, but don’t want to unsettle her.
Ella lets out a cry from the bedroom, and Ryleigh hops down from the stool beside me.
I place my hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Let me. You eat.” I hate to think about the idea that this might be her only meal today, but it very well could be.
Ella is lying on her back, her tiny arms and legs flailing as she lets out frustrated cries. “Come here, little princess,” I murmur softly as I lift her from the bedding.
I return to the kitchen and finish the rest of breakfast holding my fork in one hand and a soothed baby in the other.
Ryleigh shoots me curious glances whenever she thinks I’m not looking, and I’m not sure what to make of her expressions. I don’t want her to think I’m overstepping some invisible “the help is nice now, but what happens tomorrow to Ella and me” line. But I do want Ryleigh to realize that there are good people in this world. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she’s also one of the good people. She could have just as easily taken Ella to child protective services when her roommate abandoned her baby . . . but she didn’t.
My heart beats over time when our hands brush as she collects our plates. I’m not nervous, but I’m really, really aware of her. Her honey hair is starting to slip from her bun and for some strange reason I want to run my fingers through it.
After we clean up from breakfast, we pack up her and Ella’s things and load them into my car. I have just enough time to drop them off at home and make it to the training facility. We ride in comfortable silence to her place. I linger at her front door as she unlocks it. I may have just met Ryleigh yesterday—this woman who stirs something inside me—but some part of me isn’t ready to walk away.
“Thanks again, Alexei. I don’t know how I could repay you for . . .”
I hold up one hand, stopping her. I don’t want her to repay me. I meant what I’d said when I told her no strings. “It was really no trouble. If anything, I need to repay you for making those eggs this morning.”
She smiles and takes Ella from me as she steps inside. “Have a good practice.”
I nod, suddenly at a loss for words, and then it hits me. This is most likely the last time I’ll see Ryleigh. We’re strangers. She doesn’t fit in my life, and I certainly don’t belong in hers. And yet . . . I find myself reluctant to leave.
The realization that Coach will ride my ass if I’m even thirty seconds late makes me move quicker back to my car, but not before I turn and look back at this woman and the child who doesn’t belong to h
er, and wonder what their future holds.
• • •
“Let’s go! Where’s the hustle, Ivan?” Coach yells from the edge of the field, and then blows his whistle.
I jog to the sidelines and take a deep drink of water. He’s right. I’m distracted as fuck and playing like shit.
My teammates notice it, as do the coaching staff, and there’s no excuse for it, other than Ryleigh. My mind is on her instead of practice.
I’m wondering if her heat got turned back on, if she’ll be okay—and not just today. I find myself thinking about what happens next for her, which is crazy. That baby’s not mine. I shouldn’t even care. I’ve always taken great care to wrap my shit up every single time so I don’t end up knocking up some girl and be in the same situation as her roommate. I’ve seen the huge responsibility of having a baby, and I’m in no fucking hurry to become a father.
But then why is my mind stuck on them both?
We finish practice, and I stomp off the turf toward the locker rooms.
“A word, Ivan!” Coach calls out from behind me.
Carrying my helmet, I jog back to where he waits.
“Something going on with you?”
I shake my head and try to move the knots that have settled between my shoulders. “Just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” At least that much is true. “I’ll be ready for the game Sunday.”
A vein throbs in his forehead as he runs one hand over the back of his neck. “You’d better be.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod and jog off, releasing a heavy exhale.
Frustrated, I move through my post-practice routine in silence, removing my pads and gear, stripping down, and showering under the warm spray. By the time I’m done toweling off, I don’t feel any better, but I know what I need to do. I need to see Ryleigh. Need to see with my own eyes that she’s fine, and then I’ll move on, let them live their lives and I’ll go back to living mine. She said she had to work today, so I decide that’s where I’ll go first.
I dress in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. A few minutes later, I’m out the door and heading toward a certain topless bar . . . toward a certain woman who’s constantly on my mind.