The Bad Boy Hockey Collection: A Collection Of Single Daddy Romances

by Cass Kincaid

  “Well, thanks. Let’s get coffee. I could use it after that workout.” He opens the door out into the parking lot, tugging his hockey bag along behind him.

  “I’d never seen a hockey practice before,” I admit, trying to make neutral conversation that will alleviate the effects of his cologne on my senses. “You’re pretty good out there on the ice.”

  “I’m pretty good off the ice, too, Corinne.” He winks down at me and immediately a crimson blush creeps up into my face. “Leave your car. We can take mine.” He points towards a shiny black Ford Explorer in the parking lot.

  His invitation gives me a minute to compose myself after his less than subtle innuendo, but when I do, I shake my head. “I can just follow you in my car, Brody. It’s fine.”

  “It’s a five-minute trip. Let me drive. I promise to bring you back to your car as soon as you want me to.”

  “It’s not that—”

  “Is this some balk against chivalry? Because if it’s equality you want, Corinne, I’ve got no issues letting you pay for the drinks.” He’s grinning like a fool, thinking he’s so damn funny.

  “Screw that,” I reply finally, giving in and falling into step beside him. “You’re totally paying.”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  “I’m ordering the most expensive espresso on the menu.”

  He heaves his hockey bag up into the back of the Explorer, slamming the back door, then meets my eyes. “Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he smirks. “Now, get in the truck before I toss you in there myself.”

  As I round the side of the vehicle, I mutter laughingly, “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  ***

  The coffee shop is a locally-owned one I’ve frequented a handful of times, only a few blocks from the arena. It somehow seems different to be seated at one of its bar-height tables with a vanilla latte in my hand—one that wasn’t the most expensive thing on the menu but that Brody did pay for—with someone else across the table from me instead of a book or my iPad to keep me company.

  Especially when that someone is Brody Marsh.

  “I must admit, Corinne, I didn’t think you would agree to come here today.” Brody is perched on his chair, a large cup of dark roast coffee with two sugars between his fingers.

  “It was the caffeine that was the deciding factor,” I tell him. “Not you.” I can’t contain the amusement in my voice.

  “Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he jokes. “But you showed up anyway, and early, I might add, so cheers to that.” He holds his cup up to tap it with mine, and I do the same, with a slight flare of heat in my cheeks at him pointing out my early arrival.

  “You thought I’d stand you up?” I ask him suddenly over the rim of my cup.

  He shrugs. “I knew it was a possibility.”

  “I might be harsh sometimes, but I wouldn’t have just not shown up without calling you first, and for a good reason.”

  “Like hating me?” he chuckles. His gaze flits up from his coffee cup to my eyes, fixing on them, waiting.

  “I don’t hate you, Brody.” And I mean it. I don’t. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “But you thought you did,” he reasons with me.

  I wince, sighing loudly. “I think I wanted to hate you,” I admit. “But I couldn’t. I can’t.”

  He leans forward, smirking mischievously. “Was it my charm and wit that changed your mind, or my smooth moves on the ice earlier today?” he whispers, like he’s wanting me to admit my deepest, darkest secret.

  I chuckle, clamping my hand over my mouth in fear of laughing too loudly. “Oh, definitely a combination of the two,” I choke out. “Get over yourself.”

  Whatever Brody is about to retaliate with, he doesn’t get the chance. Instead, a loud ringing sound blares from the table in front of him, and I can see that the caller display on his phone reads Mom.

  “I’ve got to take this. I’m sorry.”

  I wave a hand dismissively, but he’s already answered the phone, turning sideways in his chair as he speaks low to his mother. He’s not hiding the conversation from me, just trying to be polite.

  The call is short and sweet, but Brody’s expression shows signs of strain and worry. “I’m sorry, Corinne, but I have to go get Spencer from my mom’s place. Her friend, Audrey, called—she lives beside her. She fell, and she needs Mom to drive her to the hospital.”

  I vaguely remember Audrey, and what little I do remember includes a widowed, frail woman who could badly hurt herself if she fell the wrong way. “Oh no, don’t apologize,” I tell him, standing up and grabbing my mittens from the table. “I get it. But—”

  “But I drove you here,” he finishes for me.

  “Let’s just go get Spencer first,” I offer. “You can drive me back to my car afterward.”

  He lets out a relieved sigh. “Jesus, thank you, Corinne.”

  “Save your gratitude, Brody,” I say with a smirk, trying to alleviate some of his stress. “You never know when you might need it later.”

  He stops in his tracks as he reaches for his keys. “Corinne, did you just flirt with me?”

  I surprise myself by winking at him. “You’re welcome,” I chuckle, heading for the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Brody

  My mom, though a good twenty-five years younger than her neighbor, has always taken care of Audrey as long as I can remember. They might not be friends exactly, but being my mom’s neighbor means she checks in with the woman and makes sure everything is okay on a regular basis. That’s why Audrey called her when she fell, and that’s why Mom made sure she did everything in her power to help the woman.

  My mom is a saint, really.

  Especially since, as soon as I walk into her house, Spencer is screaming at the top of his lungs. I take him from her, and she breathes a sigh of relief once she hands him off.

  “He’s been like this for the past ten minutes. I’m sorry,” she says sheepishly. “Audrey’s waiting for me. I just—” She stops mid sentence, her eyes fixed on Corinne, who’s doing her best to stay behind me, her presence blocked by my body. “Cori?”

  Corinne steps out from behind me, no longer shielded. She gives my mom a halfhearted smile. “Hi, Mrs. Marsh. Good to see you.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s wonderful to see you!” My mom lunges for her, and my eyebrows raise. Well, obviously she approves of whom I’m keeping company with. “What brings you by, dear?”

  If the question wasn’t so damn awkward for both of us, I would burst out laughing at the expression on Corinne’s face. She’s so conflicted on how to answer, it’s amusing. Like a total jerk, I smirk and wait to hear how she responds.

  “Oh, uh, Brody and I have just been catching up,” she stammers, her cheeks flaming a deep red. “It’s been a while.”

  “It’s been too long, Cori.” My mom’s gaze goes between me and Corinne, a knowing glint in them, but she says nothing more about it. “I’ll see you both later. And you, too, little Spence,” she adds before reaching hastily for her purse and jacket and heading out the door.

  “Well,” Corinne pipes up the moment the door shuts. “That wasn’t uncomfortable at all.”

  “I kind of forgot for a minute that you knew Mom pretty well,” I admit, turning to her. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay, I just...don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

  I’m still debating whether or not to comment on what exactly the wrong idea might be when Spencer’s wails grow in intensity, cutting off anything else I might say to that. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. Shh,” I soothe him, but it’s no help.

  Corinne steps closer to me, holding her arms out in askance. “May I?”

  A shard of protectiveness pierces through me, but I nod, slowly transferring the baby into her arms. “He tends to scream long and loud when he’s hungry, which is undoubtedly—”

  Within seconds, Spencer’s cries have diminished into a halfhearted series of whimpers and sobs, then eventua
lly into long, rhythmic sighs as he stares upward with huge blue eyes at the pretty woman who’s holding him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, rocking him gently and whispering that it’s okay, it’s all okay...

  But it’s more than okay. Because up until that point, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as Corinne when she’s holding my son. He’s just as awestruck by her as I am.

  Damn.

  I don’t give a damn how awkward it was just a minute ago, or how fucking hard I had to work to get her to agree to meet with me today, because this—this moment right here—is worth everything. And that is when it hits me like a ton of bricks.

  I could fall for Corinne. Not my brother’s ex-girlfriend. Not the legal assistant at my lawyer’s office. None of that.

  Corinne. Every sarcastic, brash, self-protecting inch of her. She’s scared of what she might feel, and I get that. She’s been through hell because of my brother’s selfish, lowdown ways. She has every right to be scared. So am I. For myself, and for Spencer.

  But that doesn’t make me want her any less.

  ***

  We get in the Explorer, but the moment we strap Spencer into his car seat and Corinne opens the front passenger door to climb in, my little boy starts to cry again. Corinne looks at me through the open door of the vehicle, then shuts it and retreats back to the back door again.

  The moment Spencer sees her pretty features, his cries settle into a series of soft murmurs and whimpers.

  “Someone’s got a crush on you, Corinne,” I laugh from the driver’s side.

  She rolls her eyes, rounding the vehicle to climb into the backseat beside Spencer. “I’ll sit back here with him. Got to keep my admirers happy, you know.”

  I’ve got a thousand cocky comments I could make, but since she’s appeasing my son, I swallow them down and only give her a knowing smirk. Or maybe the smirk is because I want her to know what I already know...

  Spencer isn’t the only one developing a crush on this woman.

  Corinne spends the next few minutes talking in a low voice, murmuring and cooing right along with Spencer in the backseat while I drive.

  “What do you say we continue our coffee plans, Corinne? I can make a pot at my house, and we can chat once I get Spencer down for his nap,” I suggest. I know I’m taking a chance, and there’s a good chance she’ll shut me down, but I have to ask. I’m not ready to let her go just yet. “Unless, of course, you’d rather hang out with him instead of me.”

  “I think your daddy’s getting jealous,” she croons, her eyes focused solely on the baby beside her. “But I never turn down a good cup of coffee with a handsome man.”

  I catch her eyes in the rearview mirror as she looks up. They’re twinkling back at me. “I was talking about Spencer. Get over yourself, Brody.”

  She laughs—loudly, I might add—quickly clamping her hand over her mouth as though it’s the most horrid sound ever uttered from her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” I chuckle, amused by her expression.

  “I have the worst laugh in the world,” she confesses. “Look, even Spencer is staring at me like he can’t figure out what that godawful sound was.”

  “Spencer might know what pretty is, judging by the way he’s head over heels for you, but he’s got a lot to learn about beautiful sounds,” I tell her, stealing glances behind me through the rearview mirror. “Your laugh is real, Corinne.”

  “Yeah, real loud. Real obnoxious.”

  “You thought I was obnoxious, too, remember?” I say, grinning. “Maybe you don’t know what obnoxious is.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but the purse-lipped smirk on her face says everything. She knows I’m right, and she’s left to ponder what I’ve just said while I drive to my place. Her sudden quietness confirms that she is, in fact, thinking about my comment, and I relish in that fact.

  Because it means she’s, in a round about way, thinking about me. And I’ll take that however I can get it.

  I pull the Explorer into my driveway and kill the ignition. Corinne doesn’t wait for me to get out of the front seat before she is undoing her seatbelt and reaching for Spencer’s car seat straps.

  “You’re pretty comfortable with him,” I muse, noticing how heavy my son’s eyelids are.

  “Am I being too familiar? I’m sorry.” She has just pulled him from the seat and she makes to hand him over to me.

  I hold my hands up, stopping her. “No. God no. I’m just surprised, that’s all,” I tell her. “He likes you, so as long as you’re wanting to hold him, that’s more than fine with me.” I lean in. “Because I understand what he’s going through, I think. I like you, too.”

  Heat creeps up into Corinne’s cheeks. I see her take a deep breath in, but she holds it in, her eyes unable to stay fixed on mine, flitting to me then past me before she looks away and turns from me. “We should get Spencer inside,” she says weakly. “He’s fading fast.”

  My tongue crosses my bottom lip, but I nod and lead her into the house. Inside, we don’t talk but I guide Corinne, with Spencer still in her arms, through the house into his nursery. It’s a three-bedroom house, but other than the open-concept living room and kitchen, it’s a relatively small, one-floor home. Spencer’s room is at the end of the hallway, and most nights I sleep on the futon I’ve set up in his room beside his crib, just so I know for sure he’s okay throughout the night.

  Now, I watch as Corinne’s eyes scan over the futon, but she focuses on placing Spencer in the crib, a faint smile playing on her lips as she listens to the halfhearted protests and sleepy cooing coming from his little mouth.

  “He fights it every step of the way,” I whisper into Corinne’s ear as she stares down at him, coming to her side to lean my arms on the railing of the crib. “He’s not one for sleeping if he doesn’t have to.”

  She seems to be concentrating so hard on Spencer that when she turns her head a moment later and presses her lips to mine, I’m taken aback. For a split second, at least. Once my brain has caught up to the sensation my body is feeling, however, all remnants of shock are replaced by unabashed desire to kiss her back, to caress the soft flesh of her lips with mine and feel the shiver of need coursing through her body as it transfers to mine where our mouths touch.

  “I’m not much for sleeping, either,” she whispers to me, pulling away only far enough to leave her lips lingering dangerously close to mine. “Not if we don’t have to.”

  Her hazel eyes are haunting as they stare into mine and search for whatever she thinks she needs to find in them. If it’s permission she wants, some kind of concrete proof that I’m just as interested in her as she’s finally admitted to herself she is in me, I don’t know what else I can do to make her see that.

  Flirting hasn’t worked.

  Inviting her out on a date hasn’t worked.

  So, I kiss her again, this time more hungrily. I taste her as my tongue passes her parted lips, a low groan rising up in my throat as the warmth and deliciousness of her mouth overwhelms my senses. I pull away a moment later like I’ve just been electrified by her essence, and maybe I have.

  With a glance down at Spencer to confirm he’s still sleeping soundly, I reach hastily for the baby monitor with one hand. My other hand finds Corinne’s and I entwine my fingers with hers, dragging her from the room without another word.

  Outside the door, I pull it shut and tuck the baby monitor in my back pocket. I don’t hesitate then to grab Corinne by the waist and pull her to me, my mouth finding hers again. My own breath is already labored, my chest heaving with the weight of how badly I crave her, and I devour her mouth like robbing her own breath may save me somehow.

  I need this woman, now. She’s managed to play about in my mind and in my deepest thoughts over the past few days, luring my consciousness into a decadent game of imagining what this would be like—to have her, to be with her, to possess and claim her body as my own.

  Now, as I push her up against the wall just outside th
e door, my hands dipping under the hem of her sweater, feeling the heated, soft flesh of her abdomen under my fingertips, I know that no image my brain could ever conjure up will ever come close to the reality of having her sexy body against mine.

  The desperate moans and whimpers that escape her mouth and reverberate on her tongue as it massages with mine are only adding to the blazing fire that burns inside me, crashing through my resolve to reveal my inner animal and making my hard erection strain painfully against the fly of my jeans.

  “Corinne.” I say her name as a breathless plea, leaning forward to push myself against her, pinning her to the wall. “Corinne, I want you,” I confess, my mouth trailing down the side of her neck, nipping and licking as I make my way to her collarbone. “And, believe me, if we go into that bedroom, I’ve got no intentions of sleeping, either.”

  Chapter Nine

  Corinne

  There is no need for Brody to admit his desire for me in that instance; I can feel the proof of it against my belly as he presses up against my aching body.

  But to hear those words fall from his lips like a seductive song—I want you, Corinne—means more to me in that moment than his physical desire does. Because he didn’t say he needed me, like he wanted to just use my flesh to rid himself of the primal agony within him. This isn’t just about physical release.

  Because he wants me, and that indicates a choice. Brody isn’t just using me because I’m the only one available at the moment—he is choosing to give in to his temptation, regardless of it being right or wrong.

  And I don’t care which it is—right or wrong—because I want Brody, too. It hurts to admit it, because I don’t want to want him the way I do, but I still do.

  He lifts me into his arms and carries me down the short hallway into his bedroom, his beautiful mouth never leaving mine. My arms are around his neck, my fingers tangled in his hair. He tastes so perfect, with a hint of coffee on his lips and his own personal brand of sultriness on his tongue. He tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted to indulge in, yet I didn’t know it until now.