Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3), стр. 26
Except he had slept with her right after meeting her. He might not have secrets, but he couldn’t be the dateless wonder his friends painted. After all, he’d known just what to do to open floodgates she hadn’t been expecting to have opened that night. The man was obviously not celibate. But did that automatically make him a player? Not that it was any of her business if he slept around. He was entitled. Still, he didn’t come across as that guy.
They came to a stop at a red light. She felt his eyes on her, and she glanced over. He gave her a hesitant smile, and, as natural as you please, raised his hand and threaded his fingers through her hair before tucking it behind her ear. His fingertips ghosted over her jawline.
The intimate move shocked her. It was both unexpected and exciting. She found herself yearning for more, but a lash of guilt laid her open. He must have seen something on her face because his smile slid away. “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that, Goldilocks.”
Goldilocks? She kind of liked it, especially in his deep baritone, yet it too was uncomfortably familiar. A shimmy squirmed up her spine.
The light turned green, and he turned his eyes to the road, his hands firmly on the wheel. While her heart thudded in her ears and her mind frantically searched for the right words, she stole a few glimpses at his strong profile.
If she was going to be spending time with this man and his friends, she needed to get everything out in the open, set expectations before … before what? Before he fell for her? Pretty impressed with yourself, her inner self scoffed.
No, he wasn’t going to fall for her. Besides, it would never work out.
It’s strictly business.
Gage turned into her neighborhood, and she jolted. The moment of truth was on her; so was dread. She screwed up her courage.
“Professor, there are some things about me I need to tell you.”
Chapter 9
Tell Me Sweet Little Lies … Please
No sooner had Lily begun her confession when her eyes caught on the Ford F-150 in her driveway. Too late. Her breath snagged. She slid her eyes toward Gage, who seemed blissfully unaware of the ball bearings careening around in her gut—the ones she could practically hear clinking as they rolled blindly into each other.
He glided his Porsche to a stop along her front curb and peered over her head at her lit-up house.
“Someone here? I don’t recall seeing a truck in your driveway when we left.”
She drew in a long, bracing breath. Why was what she had to tell him sucking the air from her lungs?
“Actually,” she began in a raspy voice that she paused to clear, “someone is here. That’s part of what you need to know. Do you remember me telling you at IHOP that my life is complicated?”
He switched off the ignition and swiveled his head toward her. “Yes, I remember.”
“Well, one of the things that makes it complicated is in my house at this moment.”
Though she couldn’t make out their color in the dim interior of his car, she could see the shimmer in his eyes as they lasered in on her. He watched her expectantly, still as marble. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
On second thought, it wasn’t what she was about to tell him but his reaction making her as skittish as a mouse in a roomful of ravenous cats. Why? “So I have—”
His gaze bounced above her head just as she heard her front door slam. With a muttered curse, she turned toward the source of the noise. That source was stomping down her walkway toward them.
“What the—?” Gage uttered just as Derek reached her window.
She cracked the door open, and Derek peered in. Though his scowl was firmly fixed on Gage—who seemed to be returning the glare—Derek directed his question to her. “Everything all right here, Lily?”
Of course it is! Do I look like it’s not? Suppressing an exasperated eye-roll, she said, “Derek, this is Gage Nelson. Gage, this is Derek Everett. You might remember him as the guitarist from our band? Derek, would you please give me a minute? I’ll be right in.”
He hesitated before bobbing his head, and she softly latched the car door and watched his retreating back. Heart slamming against her ribcage, she pulled in another breath—which was quite the feat, considering all the air had been vacuumed from inside the car. She faced Gage.
If she thought his look was intense before, this one could have burned a hole through her. “That could have gone better,” she ventured.
“He has the same last name as you.”
“Good observation. And this is why you’re the Professor.” Her joke fell flat, judging by Gage’s unwavering stare. Twiddling her fingers in her lap, she met his eyes squarely. “Derek is my brother-in-law.”
Gage’s eyebrows knotted together. “Why is he here? And more importantly, what makes him your brother-in-law?”
Once Gage knew her whole story, she might never see him again. And while she wanted the work, something deep down dreaded losing their tentative friendship. This revelation surprised her even as she fought to keep her heart from wobbling and crashing off its axis.
“He’s here,” she replied steadily, “because he’s watching my five-year-old daughter, Daisy.”
Gage’s head jerked as though he’d been punched in the face, though he didn’t break his gaze.
Another lungful of courage—Why didn’t I drink more wine?—and she rushed on. “I was married to Derek’s brother, Jack, who’s Daisy’s father. Derek’s here because he also has a daughter—her name is Violet—who’s two years older than Daisy. Derek and Vi’s mother aren’t together, and he and I take turns watching the girls to help each other out. He had Daisy at his place today to play with her cousin, and he offered to watch her while I … while I went to the party with you because I told him it was business.”
Oh my God. I