“The kids say that you’ve been looking after them. Thank you for that, by the way.” He offers me a smile. “The thing is, I’ve got a game…”
Again, I nod my head, wishing something would come out of my mouth rather than just air. It’s as if his intoxicating scent puts me in a trance as he gets closer. His eyes, his smile…Wow. I feel as if I’m a teenager and he’s a hot teacher that’s just started at my school. He’s trying to talk—to communicate serious things—and all that’s going through my mind are delicious, nasty thoughts. And none that entail being in a classroom, or standing here talking, for that matter.
“Faith?” Darcy’s voice breaks through my brain fog, but I can’t seem to move beyond my initial schoolgirl crush. That’s when Dad comes to the rescue.
“I’m Monty, Faith’s dad.” He holds out a steady hand. “The kids can stay here with us, Mr. Wright. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Tristan shakes Dad’s hand, and he turns to me. “Are you sure?”
Again, my mouth is open but nothing’s coming out.
“Sure!” My dad saves me again.
The kids scream, “Great! Dad, who would’ve thought that serving popcorn could be so fun?”
He shakes his head at Darcy’s revelation, kisses her on the forehead, then Ferguson. “Thank you,” he says, locking me in a momentary stare. Then, he swiftly moves through the crowd.
I notice that he’s taller in real life. His piercing blue eyes catapult me into a daze as he glances back at me quickly, and with his dark hair, the contrast is rare for a man, and gorgeous.
I wave feebly.
The kids are happy about serving popcorn for the duration of the game, and the crowd no longer have a star to chase after. The only thing they’re screaming for now is more popcorn and soda. I get back to work.
Once again, I’m able to speak. I’m able to think, and breathe, and comprehend. My racing heart rate settles back to a normal speed. But, I know the moment I see Tristan Wright again, it’ll all pick up exactly where it left off only a few moments ago—incomprehension, speechlessness, and a pounding heart.
Chapter Three
Tristan
Well, that was weird. At least Monty, Faith’s dad, seems reliable enough, and the kids love serving popcorn. It occurs to me again that they’re too adorable to be the kind of monsters Isobel claims them to be. She dumped them at a concession stand! What kind of fucking nanny is she? A shitty one, for starters. I need to make sure that as soon as this game’s over, I get in touch with the agency and tell them about their ‘Precious Isobel’.
Thank goodness she left them with people who seem decent enough, but I doubt she vetted them before she ran off. Home. Not even to the hotel. I wonder if she took her things to the arena with her before she decided to do a disappearing act.
“Tristan, are you listening?”
I’m nodding, but it’s been a crazy day and I can’t help but think that it’s a sign. The last time I played a game, things went from bad to worse, and I found out that my wife, Hayley, was choosing to leave me for my best friend. She left the kids, too, deciding she would have a better life with him.
I’d taken it to be a curse from that moment onward. Ferguson was too young to remember her. Darcy didn’t seem to care at the time. She didn’t understand, and that broke my heart even more.
Then, things had turned from worse to worst, and Hayley and her newfound lover both died when the plane went down. Their romantic trip to the Bahamas turned into an instant tragedy. A tragedy that saved my kids from the painful truth. I’ve been honest with them that their mom died, but I don’t want them to ever find out that she died trying to leave us.
“Team, we need to get together and think about our strategy. Don’t let Boston fool you into thinking that they’re weak. They’ve turned their team around, and they’ve been working hard!”
My head’s not even in the game before it begins. I’m too busy thinking about the kids, out there with people I don’t even know. The past is haunting me, too. I need to make sure they have a bright future, because the past has been far too bleak for them thus far. And the only way to do that is to win. And not just by luck. All my training and aspirations need to come into play today.
I switch my mind over to the coach and his pep talk. The one that he gives before every game. I’m here to win. We’re all here to win, and as captain, I need to focus. On the game. The one that I have every intention of winning. I wouldn’t be much of a captain to the team if I thought we’d do anything but.
Game on.
* * *
As much as I love playing hockey, I hate playing away from home. There’s a tension in the crowd whenever we play away from home. The home team wants to win, especially on their home ground. Both teams want to be the ones to show that they’re on top. And because this is the first game of the season for both teams, the tension is at an all-time high.
We’ve got to fly to Colorado on Wednesday for our next game, and we need this win to raise the spirits and morale of our fans in the stands, especially after the way our team crashed and burned last season.
Tonight, I’m grateful for our fans. It seems that there’s a good mix and they’ve made the journey to support us. We can’t let them down. I gave my speech to the team in the dressing room. By then, my mind was focused solely on the game, and everything else that happened before was pushed onto the back burner for the next few hours.
So far, we’ve been given a lot of opportunities to score, and we’re not taking them. Our first goal was pretty much a fluke. We need to get it together.
I swear, I’m trying to stay focused on the game, but my mind keeps drifting to the kids. I just want to make sure they’re okay. That’s all I fucking want.
Then, I remind myself that a stranger and her dad are looking after them at a public concession stand, and I get even more nervous. It doesn’t make me feel better, only worse.
I wish Mom and Dad were here. They’ve helped me out so much over the years, and I’ve come to rely on them. But, it’s clear that the strain was getting to be too much. I’d put so much pressure on them, and it took me way too long to realize I needed a nanny. I thought it was best for them to rest and look after the kids when they could, and when they wanted to, rather than because there was no other choice.
Fuck!
It’s only the first period, but we’re not scoring. We’re just getting chances, and we’re not making good on them. It doesn’t help that I’m the center and, so far, I’m concentrating on everything except the game happening around me.
The coach is screaming my name as though his life depends on it, and I know that he’s not praising me. He’s cursing a blue streak at me, probably wanting to get someone else on the ice to take my place.
Fuck, I don’t blame him. I’ve nearly fallen three times. It’s as if I’ve forgotten how to skate, so wrapped up in my own head that I can’t seem to get coordinated. I don’t feel strong, and normally one check wouldn’t make me tumble down like Humpty Dumpty.
Focus, Tristan! Fucking focus!
Thank God, everything starts to turn around after we have another pep talk following the first period, and the coach tries to kick my ass into gear. During the second period, our defense is strong and the shots are finally being taken, seeming to come out of nowhere. The hoots and hollers from the crowd only push us harder, and I’m not the only one who seems to have remembered how to fucking play.
5-3 to Boston.
It’s close, but it’s not over yet. I’m going to fucking keep pushing all the way. To hell with pussying out and letting shit get in my way of what I want. My kids are fine, but my career won’t be without this win. At this rate, Arizona will give me away like a fucking free toy in a McDonald’s Happy Meal if I don’t get it together.
My eyes narrow. Something’s happened to Boston’s goalie. He’s either tired, or he’s hurt himself from that last fall, now weak on the right side. I signal to Joshua—that’s our op
ening. We need to focus on the right side, and then we’ll start coming up on top.
By the third period, I’m not missing a thing. Just over eight minutes remain, and I know that this is my time to shine. Greg takes a shot off a faceoff in the offensive zone, and I suck in a breath as I retrieve it and take a shot on their net. It’s deflected by one of Boston’s players.
It occurs to me it might be over for us; the score is too fucking close. But I dig deeper, go after it with everything I’ve fucking got, and get another chance. Slapshot, and the puck narrowly misses the goalie’s glove, sailing into the net.
Goal!
I know the crowd wasn't exactly happy about my presence. This is my second year back after taking a year off when Hayley died, and rumors flew that I wasn’t ready to hit the ice. I sure as hell wasn’t ready last year. Reporters had a field day with that, and the fact that my wife had been killed in a plane crash. But thankfully, they never found out she’d been intent on leaving me. And that’s the way I wanted to keep it. She’d been on a trip that had ended in tragedy. Everything else was my own cross to bear.
I’m not sure if Boston just gives up after my goal, but they’re not coming back from it. We’re taking shots as if we’re the only players on the ice. Not just me, but the entire team. Playing like a real team—that’s the fucking beautiful part of it.
By the end of the third period, we’re leading 7-5, and I know that it’s a clear win. But, it doesn’t mean we have this game in the bag. We can’t get cocky, or we’ll end up losing it. No sloppiness, no penalties.
Let the opposition start to get fucking desperate. Let them make mistakes. Boston is on home ground—they can, and will, try every dirty trick in the book to turn things around.
But, all we have to do is maintain the score we’ve got.
In the remaining minutes, we’re unstoppable. The people in the stands are losing their minds, on their feet, waving their hands and cheering. The final score gets called, and pride overtakes every member of our team. I’m fucking ecstatic, having scored the final goal.
We’re going to Colorado. As fucking winners. Something we haven’t been in a long time.
Chapter Four
Faith
I can’t believe they won. They won, and we’re supposed to be cheering for Boston. But I can’t help but root for Arizona. They’re going on to the next game as winners, and I feel that, in some crazy, miniscule way, I was part of it.
Tristan scored during that game as if he was doing it with his eyes closed. The guy’s talent and skills were on form tonight. Last year, he wasn’t with it, that much was obvious, and there were rumors that he was still grieving over his wife. What better reason to not have your heart in the game, when it was shattered from grief and bereavement?
Watching him on the ice was a magical experience. It’s one thing to witness him in action on television, but on the ice, in front of me? Hell, yes. While keeping an eye on his kids, I make a plan to look up everything I can about him after the game’s over. Now that we’ve had contact, I feel the need to know everything I can about him.
Even if I didn’t manage to say a word to him.
The kids are screaming cheerfully, bouncing up and down in celebration. The crowd is leaving as quickly as they came into the arena. No one likes hanging around afterward, especially when your team loses. And not just by a little bit, but a lot. Wow, the intensity in that game was crazy.
“We better start packing up.” Dad sighs, not so much because Boston lost, but mainly because this means the end of the night for us. I know what he’s thinking—or, rather, hoping—and I’m hoping it, too. That we made more money tonight than we averaged last season. I added a lot more drink options and other goods to our menu that we didn’t offer last season. And last year, I didn’t know much about this business. I’d thought it was just Dad’s way of getting me back into hockey. Until I discovered that it was a means of survival, a way to help pay the bills. My attitude changed towards it after that, and it changed how we did things and what we made available to customers.
“I think we had a good night.” I’m talking to Dad, but the kids think I’m talking to them.
“I’ll say,” Darcy beams. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. And, besides, you're a lot nicer than Isobel ever was to us.” She smiles at me.
She has the prettiest eyes when she smiles, as if her whole face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh?”
She nods dramatically. “Isobel was only nice when Dad was around.”
She tugs at my hand to distance me from her brother. There’s only so far we can go behind the concession counter, though, and it’s pretty likely he can hear us, even at the other end. Thankfully, Dad distracts Ferguson by getting him to help pack things up.
“I think she only wanted to get close to Daddy. But he wasn’t interested, so she got fed up with pretending to like us.”
She’s like an adult in a child’s body, talking to me as if I’m one of her peers. I smile at her, thinking that maybe there’s some truth in what she says. Still, I can’t get over the fact that the woman left them here like that.
When I don’t answer immediately, she continues to try to explain. “Daddy liked her, but not like that, if you know what I mean?”
I nod, winking back at her.
She smiles. “I like you, Faith.”
I chuckle at the young girl. “You’re too cute not to like.”
She scowls me. “I’m not a kid. I’m nearly a woman, like you.”
Oh my god, how is she only six? “Right,” I nod. “I’m sorry, Darcy. You’re absolutely right.”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay. You’re not the only one who gets confused about that.”
I smile, then we start packing everything up. I look around as I work, but I still don’t see Tristan. Panic stirs in my gut, but I keep my cool, not wanting to alarm Dad, or, most of all, the children.
Did Tristan forget about his kids?
I feel silly even thinking that, and even sillier that we didn’t exchange cell numbers. I wonder if his kids know his number. I look at them again, patiently sitting on the wooden chairs, waiting for him to turn up.
Dad smiles, trying to keep a brave face as he scratches his balding head. “Hmm. I wonder what’s taking him so long?”
I shake my head, noticing he refrains from saying Tristan’s name.
“What do we do?”
He shrugs. “No idea, but we can’t leave them here, and we can’t contact him. There’s no way they’ll let you go down there without one of those clearance badges.” Then, Dad smiles. “But, I have an idea.” He turns to Darcy and Ferguson. “Guys, do you know what hotel you’re staying at?”
Darcy’s eyes dart from left to right, and I think the mini-adult inside her is trying to figure out where the place is. Then, her eyes light up and she stands, pulling a little bag from her pocket and handing it to me. I realize that she’s taken a little souvenir from the room.
“They said that they’re free, and they leave them in the room. So, I never stole it. Honest. They said they were gifts from the hotel.”
She’s panicking, thinking she’s in trouble, which couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s a sweet little girl. One that, if I were taking care of her, wouldn’t feel so damn frightened and defensive. Way to go, Isobel. If I didn’t despise the woman before, despite not knowing her, I sure did now.
I nod my head, glancing at the little black bag with the Four Seasons written all over it. I wink at Darcy and say, “I don’t blame you. It’s a pretty bag.”
She smiles, letting out a deep breath. “That’s why I took it.”
Dad says, “Good. At least we know where to take them.”
It occurs to me that maybe we should take them straight to the police. But, that’s the problem with fame; if they were someone else’s children, that’s exactly what we would have done by now. Taken them to the police and let them deal with it.
But, somehow, becaus
e they just happen to be Tristan Wright’s kids, we’re going out on a limb for him. I can tell Dad’s thinking the same thing as I look over at him. The problem is, if we go to the hotel and Tristan isn’t there, then that’s exactly what we’ll have to do. Which is a shame, because the kids are so damn cute. And God knows, they’ve already been through enough earlier today by being under the supervision of one hurtful person. I really didn’t want to have to be another one for them to add to that list.
Chapter Five
Tristan
I try to leave the dressing room, but the guys have other things in mind. Everyone’s in a celebratory mood, and I can’t blame them for that. I could do with a drink or two myself, but I need to get to the kids.
“Tristan, where are you rushing off to?” the coach asks as I finally finish in the showers and grab my clothes. I don’t want to tell him I have no one to look after my children, and that they’ve been at the concession stand throughout the entire game. I feel like shit just thinking about it, let alone having to confess it to him.
I smile. “Nothing. Just want to get back to the kids.” Like, right now.
“Shit, you’re too hard on yourself. The kids are fine with that hot new nanny of yours.”
I put on a wider fake smile, thinking that the hot new nanny’s nothing but a neglectful bitch. A bitch who dumped my kids in a public arena.
“One drink won’t hurt. Besides, before we hit the city, I bought a bottle of champagne. You guys can call it a premonition, but I had a feeling we were going to fucking rock tonight. And what did we do tonight, boys?”
Everyone cheers. “Rocked it!”
We did rock it, they’re damn right about that. I glance down at my phone.
Puck Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance Page 2