The Defender: A Single Dad Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey)

by Gina Azzi

  In fact, when I close the room door behind us and turn toward Bella, I feel a flare of that peace I’m always searching for. To date, I’ve only ever found it on the ice. But at my age, even hockey will soon come to an end. Then what will I do?

  My pulse slows, my head clears, and her presence fills me with desire.

  My hands grip her hips as she pulls her shirt over her head. She tugs out her hair tie and a waterfall of dark curls roll over her shoulders.

  My throat dries, my body humming with awareness and want and a flicker of shame I snuff out. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m choosing peace. Tonight, I’m choosing Bella over my demons.

  Her bra is red and sexy, her curves delicious, her skin so goddamn silky.

  I slide my hands up and down the sides of her body as her fingers deftly undo the row of buttons on my shirt. She pushes it off my shoulders and pops the button on my jeans.

  I cup her chin, angling her face so I can peer into her eyes. “You sure about this, Bella?”

  “I’m sure, James. Please, make me feel something good.”

  I nod, understanding exactly what she means. We’re both too broken to be whole but maybe, just maybe, we can be whole together for this night.

  I drop my mouth to hers and when our lips touch, I revel in her soft sigh. I kiss her fiercely, months of dormant need unleashing in an instant. Her lips part under mine and my tongue dips into her mouth, exploring. She tastes like whiskey and summertime, like shooting stars and lost dreams. There’s something exquisitely tragic in her kiss and I’m drawn to it, to her, in a way I never imagined I would be again. I slow our connection for two heartbeats, savoring the taste of her mouth, the feel of her touch, the naked desire in her moan.

  But that sound, her want, snaps something inside of me and my own need takes over. Our bodies come together fast and desperately. There’s no time for tenderness, there’s no more room for generosity and compassion. We lose ourselves completely, filling each other up with want.

  When we’re spent, a sweet sorrow envelops us. Bella curls up against my chest and I wrap my arms around her. Right before I doze off, I wonder if I’ve arrived at a turning point.

  Can I date Bella? Can we grab a coffee or even breakfast tomorrow?

  But when I wake in the morning, she’s gone. Vanished with the sunrise. Just another ghost to haunt my thoughts.

  1

  James

  I swipe my fingers across my forehead, trying to keep my voice level, fighting against the swell of frustration that fills my throat at my sister-in-law’s words.

  “Make sure she’s a registered first responder. And, you want to hire someone who has a degree in education or psychology or even—”

  “Maia, I got it,” I say as calmly as I can, glancing at the screen of the phone. We’ve been having this conversation for seventeen minutes and thirty-four seconds. “Look, the nanny is going to be here any minute so…”

  “Right, okay. Well, good luck, JR. Not that you need it but—”

  “‘Bye, Maia.” I hang up, glancing out the front window to make sure a car hasn’t pulled into the driveway. I do a final sweep of the living room, making sure there are no stray crayons or LEGO pieces from when I picked up this morning.

  Yanking on the back of my neck, I blow out a sigh and begin to pace back and forth in front of the television. Am I really going to trust a stranger to live in my house? To stay with the twins when I’m traveling with the team?

  I glance out the window again before checking my watch. She still has ten minutes to show up before she’s late. Punctuality is important, right?

  God, why am I so nervous about this? Deep down, I know Maia is right. I need to hire a nanny. My parents passed years ago, and with no other family to lean on, my in-laws stepped up in every way imaginable to provide a support system for the twins and me. Since last season, Maia has been the real MVP, taking Milly and Mason for sleepovers or staying at my house for extended amounts of time. But it’s not fair for her to continually juggle pseudo-parenting with a demanding career and an overly understanding fiancé.

  Besides, Clark, a professional baseball player I met a few years ago at a fundraiser for youth outreach programs in Boston, highly recommended Isabella. He said he’d rather homeschool his kids just so they could keep her. But now that his youngest started boarding school, they don’t need a live-in nanny.

  Isn’t that fortunate for me? That someone so qualified, with excellent references, magically became available just when I was starting to panic that I didn’t line up childcare for the twins like I should have months ago, when Maia first mentioned it?

  I blow out another exhale as a flashy, red Mercedes pulls into my driveway.

  I turn away from the window, my nerves pinging around. I shouldn’t judge the woman by her car but why couldn’t she drive a sensible, navy sedan or something? I fill a glass of water and take a deep sip, trying to relax.

  This is so far out of my wheelhouse. I don’t know the first thing about hiring childcare. We never had to formally arrange it before because Layla was always with the kids. Even after she got sick, her sister or mom would step in when needed. But now Zainab relocated to Delaware, where Layla’s brother and his wife recently had a baby and Maia can’t juggle my demanding hockey schedule. Nor should she have to.

  I can do this. I can hire a nanny for my kids.

  I wipe my palms along the thighs of my jeans.

  Shit, why the hell does this seem more stressful than playing in a Finals game?

  The doorbell rings and I stride forward. It’s just a conversation. I’ll be friendly but professional, warm but direct. I got this.

  I pull the door open and the gorgeous brunette on the front porch looks up.

  Startled blue eyes stare back at me, her mouth dropping open.

  “Bella?” I spit out, my nerves from a second ago evaporating as a rush of surprise, quickly followed by a surge of anger, washes through me.

  “James?” She squints, as if she can’t believe it’s really me. Which makes no sense because she would certainly know my name, right? I mean, Clark would have told her who she’s interviewing with.

  She clears her throat, her eyes darting over my shoulder.

  Right. “Come in.” I step back.

  She crosses the threshold of my home, her floral perfume hitting me like a reminder I don’t want to remember. She glances around the living room and I briefly wonder what she sees when she looks at my home.

  Professional athlete? Doting dad? Devasted widower?

  I shake my head, letting my annoyance take hold once more. A couple months ago, she ghosted me. Just disappeared with the sunrise. I lift my hand to my chest and press, as if that will help alleviate the embarrassing memory of waking up alone. Talk about a hit to the ego.

  She turns and looks at me, hitching her purse higher on her shoulder. “Clark kept calling you Ryan. I didn’t…” She pauses to wet her lips. “I didn’t put it together. How are you?”

  I chuckle, the sound derisive. “Do you want a coffee?” I ask instead, remembering my manners. Isabella Andrews is one of the most sought-after nannies in the Boston Professional Athlete circles. As uncertain as I feel in this moment, I know better than to completely blow her off.

  Her eyebrows pull together before smoothing back out. “Sure.”

  I turn on my heel and assume she’s following me into the kitchen. When I pop a coffee pod into the Keurig and turn, she’s already seated at the kitchen island.

  “How do you take your coffee?” I ask, my voice too polite. Forced.

  “Just two sugars please.”

  For an awkward stretch of seconds, the only sound is the sputtering coffee machine and our breathing. We both take a beat to collect our thoughts and figure out how to navigate this mess.

  I can’t hire the woman I slept with, can I?

  Shame burns through me, so intense it borders on painful.

  Bella is the only woman I’ve been intimate with since Layla passe
d and now…she’s going to live here? Watch my kids? Play fucking house?

  I laugh again. The sound is harsh and Bella winces.

  “Look,” she says, “I know this is uncomfortable. If my being here is too much for you, or this is going to be too difficult to manage”—she gestures between us—“I can just go.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I thought you needed this job.”

  Her gaze narrows right back and her toughness impresses me. “I do.”

  I nod and set the coffee mug in front of her. “Why’d you leave?”

  She rears back, her eyes blown with surprise. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” I lean back against the kitchen counter and cross my arms over my chest.

  She blushes and dips her head. When she meets my gaze again, there’s an apology in her eyes. “I was embarrassed.”

  “Embarrassed?” I repeat, not buying it for a second. Embarrassed is what I was the following morning, when the bed was missing a warm body.

  She nods, tossing an arm in my direction. “You’re a nice guy, James. And that night…” She pauses, as if searching for the right words. “It wasn’t a good night for me. I was lonely, searching for something. I pushed you into—”

  “You didn’t,” I mutter, clearing my throat.

  “I didn’t want to witness your regret,” she admits, her voice so low I need to strain to hear it.

  I study her, noting the earnestness in her expression, the heat in her cheeks. At her sincerity, some of my anger fades and I nod once, curtly. “I can do this if you can.” I motion between us.

  “Be professional?” She lifts an eyebrow.

  I nod.

  “I can too,” she says decisively, picking up her mug and taking a sip. She sets it back down with a thud.

  “That night, that won’t ever happen again,” I say, cringing at how blunt I am. But I need her to know that I need a nanny, not a woman of the house. “I need a caregiver for my kids. Your references are excellent and unparalleled and if I’m being honest, I’m in a bit of a time crunch.”

  She licks her lips and I catch the movement, averting my gaze a second later. She’s about to become your damn employee. “I understand,” she agrees, her voice cracking. “I’m familiar with the shifting routines of families in the professional sports industry. I’m flexible and able to adjust my schedule as necessary.”

  I frown, narrowing my eyes at her. Is she that hard up for cash? First bartending, now this? Who in their right mind wouldn’t want the freedom to plan out their own calendar? To always be tied down to the whims of another family?

  “You’ll have to move in here for the season. From mid-September to mid-June.”

  “That’s fine.” Her tone is even. She possesses the level-headedness that I’ve been searching for but for a moment, her willingness to agree with everything I say pisses me off.

  “When Milly and Mason have a sleepover at their aunt’s, you’ll have the night off. I’ll try to make sure you always have one to two days off a week but it will vary, depending on my schedule.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you have any questions?” I lift my eyebrows, wondering what the hell kind of interview this is. It’s too easy.

  “When can I meet them?”

  “My kids?”

  She nods. “To connect, make sure we’re a good fit.”

  I glance at the time. “They’ll be home in fifteen minutes. If you want to stick around, you can meet them then.”

  “That’d be great.”

  I huff out a sigh, not sure why the hell I’m annoyed, but I am. The woman sitting in front of me, Isabella Andrews, is nothing like the woman I met at Taps. She’s too agreeable, too closed off, too…polite instead of friendly. She’s treating me the same way she treated the other patrons at the bar. But that night, with me, she was different. She was real.

  Isn’t this what you wanted? Professionalism? Christ, I’m giving myself emotional whiplash.

  “Let’s talk compensation,” I blurt out, not caring how tactless it is.

  She sits up straighter in her chair and raises an eyebrow.

  I yank the back of my neck and run through the salary, health insurance, and benefits package I’m willing to offer. Just as I’m wrapping up my spiel, the front door bangs open and Mason’s voice fills the air.

  “Dad! We’re home!”

  Immediately, Bella’s expression changes. Gone is the pinch between her brows and the tightness in her lips. Instead, she looks positively radiant as she smiles and slips off the barstool, turning to meet my kids.

  They skid to a stop right before the threshold to the kitchen when they spot Bella.

  “Are you our new nanny?” Milly asks, curling her fingers into her palms and scratching the way she does when she’s uncertain. She started doing it when Layla got sick and since her mom passed, it’s gotten worse.

  “I think so.” Bella chances a glance in my direction before squatting down to the twins eye level. “I’m Bella,” she holds out a hand.

  Mason takes it and shakes seriously, his eyes contemplative. “Mason.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mason. And you are?” Bella turns to Milly.

  “Milly,” my daughter replies shyly.

  “Milly,” Bella repeats, a strange expression crossing her face. For a beat, she almost looks stricken but in the next breath, she grins. “That’s a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you.” Milly curtsies and Bella and I laugh.

  She glances at me over her shoulder, her eyes a deep blue, and colored with a shade of hope. Some of the anger I felt toward her, mostly because I was so damn embarrassed, melts away.

  “Well, I’m happy to meet you guys. If it’s okay with your dad, maybe we can go play for a little bit? You can show me your favorite toys and tell me about your hobbies before supper?”

  Mason nods eagerly, a smile splitting his face. Milly’s a bit more hesitant but I can read the curiosity in her eyes.

  “Can we, Dad?” Mase asks.

  “First, show Bella her room and bathroom. Then you can show her the playroom,” I agree, clearing the emotion from my throat. Seeing Bella with the kids, a woman showing them kindness when they’ve already experienced so much loss, affects me a hell of a lot more than I thought it would.

  Bella follows the twins out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. Right before she clears the door, she turns and catches my eye. “That night, it’s in the past now. Let’s just move forward.”

  My jaw clenches at how blasé she sounds, as if that night was nothing more than a one-night stand. Which it was. Then, why the hell did it feel like more than that? Instead, I say, “We’re professionals. My kids come first.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Then she’s out of sight but the feel of her still lingers in the house, even hours after she leaves.

  That night, when I collapse into bed, I close my eyes and blow out a sigh.

  Am I doing the right thing? Making the right decision? Or is this a bad idea?

  I fall asleep worrying about the twins, the future, and the woman who’s taking up space in my mind even though she has no right to be there.

  “Hey,” Austin’s face comes into view above the bar I’m benching. He spots me as I continue my reps.

  When I’m finished, he eases the bar back onto the rack and I sit up, wiping a towel over the back of my neck. “What’s up, Aus?”

  “Nothing much. Just checking in with the guys. Seeing where everyone’s head is at since we’re about to start the season.”

  “My head’s good,” I lie, not wanting to give away just how confused I’ve been since Bella re-entered my life.

  She was a ghost I put to bed. Sure, the days following our hookup threw me for a loop but I recovered. I got past it. I even got past the dumb idea that I was in any shape to think about moving forward, dating again.

  Now, the ghost has come back to life. With Bella living in my house, caring for my kids, I can’t not think about her. I can’t will my
self to have amnesia regarding that night. That shit is messing with me big time.

  I grip the collar of my tank top and rub it against my chin, glancing at a paper with my next set of exercises.

  “You sure?” Austin asks, lowering his voice.

  I glance up at my team captain, noting the concern in his gaze, the compassion in his expression. After Layla passed, Austin went above and beyond to make sure I felt supported by the team. And I did. It’s just, I was dealing with a grief that none of my teammates had ever experienced. Grief isn’t something you can truly understand unless you’ve experienced loss as well.

  It’s not something that magically disappears or heals with time. It comes in waves and by Austin’s expression, I know he thinks I’m twisted up over something related to Layla.

  I blow out a sigh. The last thing I want to do is have my captain, my team, question my commitment to this season. My head and heart are in the right place after a shaky start to last season. I need hockey. The ice is the only place where I feel whole, where I don’t feel like I’m constantly failing Layla or the twins, where I can breathe again. Wanting Austin to understand that I’m ready for our season opener, I tell him the truth. “Remember that bartender from Taps? The one who was filling in for Selina a couple months ago?”

  Surprise flashes through Austin’s eyes. “The brunette?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I remember. Chloe thought she was really nice.”

  “She was. Is,” I amend.

  Austin sits down next to me on the bench and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he waits for me to continue. It’s as if he knows that whatever’s coming is going to be a big, earth-shattering revelation. In my life, it is.

  “That night, we, I uh…” I trail off, uncertainty blazing through me. How the hell do I admit that I slept with someone? Will he think I betrayed Layla? How do I—

  “I got it.”

  I chuckle, the sound forced and nervous. “She’s the new nanny.”

  “What?” Austin’s head snaps up, his eyes wide with shock. “The girl Clark recommended?”