Unexpected Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance

by Kincaid, Cass

  She might have lied to me, but I can see now that I overreacted, too.

  And did she lie? Hell, I’m not even sure anymore. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe she wanted to tell me before then but couldn’t.

  I don’t even know if it matters now. It’s been four days, and Megan hasn’t tried to call or text me. She hasn’t rounded the corner of Main Street and come to see me at the repair shop.

  I haven’t done either of those things, either. Every time I think I should make an attempt at fixing this, a small part of my brain warns me that she kept the truth from me.

  Just like Ella did.

  There’s no way I can stand for that kind of deceit, not after the monumental lies that came about with Ella. I might have never even known I had a son if it hadn’t been her dying goddamn wish to tell me.

  I think that’s what wrecks me from the inside out—it took Ella being moments from death to admit the truth to me. Like I wasn’t worth it before that point. I’ve bounced back and forth between my love for that woman and my hatred for her since the day she died. I’ve heard it’s a fine line sometimes between love and hate, now I fucking believe it.

  Ella’s betrayal has turned me into a man that doesn’t know who to believe, who to trust. Then, the moment I trust someone, look how that turns out. The fact that Megan kept her plan to leave Cardon Springs from me, all the while letting me think that maybe this thing between us was something it’s not, just solidifies my heart’s choice to give up on trusting people entirely. It’s safer that way.

  “Craig?”

  The voice is loud and clear, even from where I lay, under the driver’s side of a Honda Civic.

  It’s also very familiar.

  “Nancy?” I roll the creeper out from under the car, staring up at her from the floor. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in this shop before. There aren’t any appointment times available for—”

  “I’m not here about my car, Craig,” she interjects. “I’m here about Meg.”

  I sit up slowly, knowing I’m covered in grease and smelling like motor oil. “Meg. Is she okay?”

  Nancy tucks her tongue into the side of her mouth. It makes me think she’s ready to chew the damn thing off just so she doesn’t say the words she’s so close to spitting at me. “Depends on how you define okay,” she replies. She glances over at her niece’s car, still parked in the other garage bay. The parts I ordered showed up yesterday but I’ve been up to my eyeballs in other appointments so haven’t done the work on it yet. “You hurt her, Craig.”

  A long sigh falls from my lips, and I struggle to my feet. “Nancy, maybe I shouldn’t have reacted quite the way I did, but Megan didn’t—”

  “Didn’t go to the job interview,” she says loudly. “She didn’t go to the job interview, didn’t run back to Dallas, and she sure as hell didn’t ask for you to shove her indecisiveness in her face. The girl’s been through enough.”

  In all my years of knowing Nancy, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a curse word come from her mouth. Or anything that resembles a confrontation, for that matter. But here she is, standing in the repair shop that I own, giving me shit and treating me like the ten-year-old she obviously still thinks of me as.

  But all I can seem to focus on is that Megan didn’t attend the interview in Dallas. “I admit, I shouldn’t have lost my cool the way I did.” She didn’t go back to Dallas. “I didn’t realize Megan stayed in town. I hadn’t seen her, so I thought she’d decided—”

  “This town may be small, but it isn’t small enough that a woman can’t avoid a man when she wants to.”

  Fair enough. So, she’s purposely been making sure she doesn’t see me. That doesn’t help the gnawing sensation of guilt that’s eating away at me. “I thought she’d gone back to Dallas, Nancy.”

  She nods her head. “You’ve still got her car, so how exactly do you think that’d work?”

  Damn, Nancy is on a roll today. But she’s right, I’ve ignored everything except the hurt I’ve been feeling. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Then, I realize I said it out loud and wince, seeing Nancy’s disapproving glare. “I messed up,” I say finally, letting out another long breath. “She said she wanted to give this thing between her and I a shot, so when I heard her say she planned to leave town, and that she had that interview...”

  “Megan did say she wanted to leave Cardon Springs,” Nancy states. “But right after she said that, her next words were At least I think I want to.” She locks her gaze with mine. “You’re the reason she second-guessed her decision, Craig. And I’ve got to say, I don’t think she’s ever second-guessed anything in her life. But her feelings for you made her wonder. Made her think. She just needed time,” she says, her head tilting to one side slightly. “Just like you did.”

  I feel my throat move as I swallow down the lump of emotion. “Maybe I need more time.”

  “Maybe you need to realize she’s not Ella.”

  Nancy’s words hit me like a slap across the face. “I never said she was,” I stammer, suddenly regretting the evenings I’ve sat across from Nancy at her dining room table, tea in hand, wishing for something stronger as I told her everything about Ella and her betrayals.

  “You didn’t have to. You overreacted because you automatically assumed Meg was going to lie to you the same way Ella did.” The older woman takes a step forward and scoops my black-stained hand up in hers. “You need to stop blaming others for what happened, Craig. You need to stop blaming yourself.”

  Words can’t get past the thickness of my throat as I struggle to keep my composure. I breathe in, breathe out, until I can manage to choke out, “I couldn’t save her.”

  “Oh, honey...” Nancy stretches up and hugs me to her. “You couldn’t save Ella, no matter what you did. What happened to her was a tragedy, but you couldn’t have changed the outcome. But, maybe she saved you.”

  I pull back, barely holding back the tears brimming my eyelids. My eyes are narrowed. “How?”

  Her mouth curves into a soft smile as she stares up at me. “She gave you Ellis, didn’t she?” Nancy pats my hands and steps away from me. “You walked away from everything when your son came into your life, Craig. But now it’s time to actually start living. Ella would want that. For you, and for Ellis.”

  She’s right. And the rightness of her words resonates through me so completely that I can barely breathe with the weight of it. I’ve tried so hard to do everything perfectly for so long now, in order to live for Ellis and his needs, that I’ve forgotten how to live for myself, too, pushing away everything and everyone in the process.

  I bend down and plant a kiss on Nancy’s cheek, then side-step around her to flip the Open sign in the window to Closed.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes wide.

  “Living.” I give her a wink as I grab my truck keys from the top shelf of my toolbox. “I’ve got to go find Megan.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Megan

  Harold has been a phenomenal boss since I started here at the Chronicle. Since it’s a small newspaper, we work pretty closely with each other on just about every aspect, and I would like to think I’m getting the hang of it quickly.

  And I’d still believe it if it weren’t for my complete lack of ability to concentrate on anything other than Craig Connelly.

  Every word uttered through his clenched teeth, every flash of anger that shone in his eyes when he looked at me—I just keep replaying the entire conversation over and over in my head, hearing him tell me how I lied and how I played him and hurt him and ruined everything.

  I could have prevented this whole sordid thing if I’d just ignored Aunt Nancy’s jabbering about him, if I’d ignored the sexy, chocolate-colored eyes that stared into me instead of at me that first day I met him when my car broke down.

  My car. I’ve spent the past four days trying to work up the courage to go find out how close I am to getting it back. As the thought wields through my head, however, I’ve convinc
ed myself that Craig is holding it ransom, purposely not calling me about it because he knows I’ll eventually have to come to him.

  Well, that’s not happening. He can keep the goddamn thing for all I care.

  “Megan, what are you still doing here?” Harold comes around the corner from his office, turning to stare up at the clock on the wall. “You could’ve left almost an hour ago. I didn’t realize you’d stayed.”

  Not wanting to admit that I had nothing better to do with my time than work, I quirked a half-smile up at the older man. “Just wanted to get this page design out of the way before I called it a night. I’m almost done.”

  “Thank goodness. That’ll get that boy off the front step, then, I’m sure.”

  “Boy?” My gaze flew toward the front door, despite not being able to see through it. “What boy on the front step?”

  Harold points a finger toward the door. “That Connelly boy’s been perched on that stoop since closing time. I was just coming out to see what he wanted when I realized you were still here.”

  “And what makes you think it’s got anything to do with me?” I ask, my eyes narrowed.

  My boss gives me a knowing smirk. “Megan, this is a very small town. People talk, you know.” He points towards the door again. “Now, go talk to him, will you?”

  Aunt Nancy. God knows who she’s been talking to while trying to fix this. I should’ve known better than to confide in her about Craig’s angry outburst, but I’d needed some solace and sympathy, and she’d certainly given me that. Maybe it wasn’t my aunt at all. It’s all just as plausible that the neighbors heard us in the driveway, if their windows or screen doors had been open.

  “I’ll fix this,” I advise my boss.

  “Good,” he says. “Lock the door on your way out? I’ve got some family coming to stay at our place tonight, and I can’t be late or Elaine will never let me hear the end of it.”

  I chuckle, nodding. “No problem. Have a good night.” I’ve only met his wife once, but I don’t doubt that people would want to avoid her bad side. The woman’s polite and all, but she’s definitely a firecracker, too.

  I start packing my things up and shutting down my computer after he leaves. It takes no time at all for the mere knowledge of his presence on the other side of the door to urge me towards it, opening it.

  Sure enough, Craig is huddled down on the first step, hands wrapped around his knees, hat pulled down low over his face to block out the setting sun on the horizon.

  “Shouldn’t you be home by now?” I ask him, having to clear my throat when the words come out hoarse.

  Craig turns at the sound of my voice, standing. “Shouldn’t you be off work by now?”

  “I was getting some things done.”

  “And I was waiting for you.”

  “That solves that mystery, then.” I look past him and see a couple of ladies walking down the sidewalk. Their gazes are fixed on us, too interested and intrigued by us for my own liking. “If you want to talk, you’d better come inside. Especially if you want it to be just us that’s hearing it this time.”

  Craig follows my gaze, then stands up and follows me silently into the office. “They weren’t trying to listen in on us,” he says, closing the door behind him.

  “Well, everyone seems to know what’s going on around here whether it involves them or not, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “It’s a small town,” he argues, like that makes it all better. “What people don’t actually know, they make up.”

  “Is that what you did?” I stand at my desk, pushing my hands flat down onto it. “Didn’t know the whole story, so you made up the rest?”

  I’m shocked to see Craig’s cheeks redden, his throat moving visibly. He pulls his hat down off his head, clutching it tightly. “Megan, I made a mistake.”

  “Before or after you assumed I used you for sex?” The question comes out of my mouth before I have time to stop it, followed by muttering, “Wonder what else has been assumed in this town about me and you.”

  “Megan, if you don’t like this town, then why are you staying?” Craig sounds exasperated, but I snap my gaze up to his, wary.

  “Who told you I was staying?”

  “Nancy came to see me.”

  I groan, pressing my hands into my eyes. “Of course she did. Son of a bitch, why—”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he says through gritted teeth. “Megan, why are you staying here? Why are you—”

  “Because of you!” I exclaim, slamming my hands down hard on the desk. “Because, despite what you think, being with you meant more than some one-night stand. Because I like how I feel when I’m with you. Because I thought Aunt Nancy was right, that you’re a good man—”

  My frustrated speech is cut short by Craig’s mouth crashing against mine. I gasp, but it’s stifled by the urgency with which his tongue enwraps mine, spelling out every ounce of apology and regret and pain neither of us can put into words. He tosses his hat onto my desk and wraps me in his arms, pulling me against him. I moan, not realizing how much I’d been craving his touch until the moment I felt it again.

  “Craig,” I said, breathless, struggling to keep myself from kissing him again because it’s easier than talking this through.

  “Megan,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against mine. “I am a good man. I just needed you to remind me of it.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, bringing his hand up to wipe my hair away from my eyes. “I’m so goddamn sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of lying to me.” He pauses, his eyes fixating on mine. “I shouldn’t have compared you to Ella. That wasn’t fair.”

  A veil of confusion is cast over my thoughts. “What’s Ella got to do with this?”

  His jaw ticks, but he explains. “I only told you part of the story, Meg,” he admits. “She did die in a car accident; that was true. But she’d broken up with me months before that, without any warning. It wasn’t until the hospital called me and I went there that I found out about—”

  “Ellis,” I whisper. “She didn’t tell you about him.”

  Craig shakes his head. “But that’s no reason for me to take my trust issues out on you, either. I mean it, Megan, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” And I am. For fighting with him. For avoiding him for the past four days. For the unfair thing Ella did to him. For the closure he never got because he lost her so tragically. “We’ve all got things we’ve got to work through,” I remind him, running my finger along the curve of his jaw. “There’s no shame in that, but we have to communicate through it.”

  “You’re so fucking smart.” He leans down and kisses me again. “That’s why I need you so much.”

  A childlike giggle escapes my mouth. “That’s why, huh? No other reasons you can think of?”

  “Oh, I can think of many, many reasons,” he advises, trailing his lips down across the side of my face, to my throat, then collarbone. “That’s why you should let me apologize to you the best way I know how to convey how sorry I really am, and how fucking much I want you in my life.”

  “Mmm.” I’m already lost, too consumed by the damp heat of his breath on my sensitive flesh to give a damn why we fought in the first place. “Something tells me I might like where this is going.” I tilt my head, giving him more access to my neck.

  “You will,” he growls between soft kisses. “I promise.”

  Another moan escapes my lips as he nips lightly at me, and I pull back to stare into his eyes. “Don’t promise me,” I whisper. “Show me.”

  Craig’s gaze bores into mine, hot and blazing. Then he steps away from me, scanning the room. He crosses the office and flips both locks on the door, the one that can be unlocked from the outside as well as the deadbolt, into place and turns the overhead lights off.

  “I can’t wait to have you,” he whispers hoarsely once he makes it back across the room, in three long strid
es. He pushes me back onto my desk, pressing the entire length of his firm body against mine.

  “Then don’t,” I say just as huskily. “But not here.” He’s already kissing along the side of my neck again, making my breath come out in long pants. “Around the corner. The meeting room.”

  Craig lifts his head, his gaze following the direction my hand is pointing unsteadily. Determined, he plucks me up into his arms as though I’m weightless, carrying me into the meeting room. It’s small, and it’s cramped, boasting only a banged-up table and six chairs, but it’ll save us from any prying eyes that, on the off chance, might see us through the main office windows.

  The moment he sets me on the tabletop, we’re pulling at each other’s clothes with jerky, desperate movements. I manage to push his plaid shirt from his shoulders then peel his t-shirt over his head in record time, needing to feel the taut, contoured muscles of his chest under my fingertips.

  Craig helps me remove my blazer and silk top quickly, too, his mouth kissing and licking my throat and collarbone as he wastes no time in finding the button on my dress pants and undoing it.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his hands under the open waistband of both my pants and panties. “And mine,” he adds, almost inaudible. “Please fucking say you’re mine, Meg.”

  I push on the table with my hands, lifting my hips up to allow him the room needed to slide my pants and underwear down over my hips. The insatiable, furious need for him racing through me is consuming, unquenchable, and I stare up at him with large, emotion-filled eyes. “I’m yours,” I whisper.

  The smoldering fire in Craig’s eyes ignites, and all trace of measured control leaves him, replaced by fevered movements and urgent kisses that devour my resolve and leave me begging for him to be deep inside me.