Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3), стр. 29
Lily: You already look good, Professor. See you tomorrow.
“Whoa, do you see that, Hobbes?” He waved his phone in front the cat’s face. Hobbes tracked it for a few seconds before striking a bored pose and licking his paw. “What do you think she means when she says I already look good? You think she wants to jump my bones? Or is she talking ‘good’ in a PR kinda way?” The cat looked up from his licking and blinked. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Strictly PR, but hope shines eternal, or some bullshit like that.”
Gage couldn’t bring himself to put Hobbes back out in the cold and did something he’d never done before. He piled a few towels on the mudroom floor and closed the cat up with full bowls of food and water.
Tomorrow, he’d look into whatever the hell a cat needed—they used litter boxes, didn’t they?—and he’d text Natalie about a vet. Gage didn’t view his efforts as “adopting” Hobbes, though. He was simply providing temporary shelter from the cold and the coyotes. And why not? He had a big house, and the cat wasn’t annoying or destructive.
A thought streaked in out of the blue. What about a kid? Who’s not mine? Would I want to take care of it … her? That kind of shelter would be a helluva lot more permanent.
Stepparents did it all the time, right? Gage had never been afforded a front-row seat to stepparenting. His mom hadn’t remarried, and he had little experience with his stepmom since his dad had distanced himself. But still. Millions of people made it work every single day, so it couldn’t be all that daunting. You only heard about the horror stories, not the boring ones where everybody acted like a family. A team.
He trudged upstairs, getting ready for bed while his mind continued winding along its merry, unlikely way. Did he want to be a dad someday? He’d always assumed he would be, though it wasn’t exactly burning a hole in the bucket holding his topmost desires—in fact, it wasn’t even in the bucket. Right now that bucket was filled to the rim with one thing: winning the Stanley Cup.
Lily, he realized suddenly, could worm her way into that bucket—which meant her kid, by default, would wind up in the bucket too. A child he didn’t know, who wasn’t his.
Tired of his whirlpooling thoughts, he stripped and slid between the sheets. Tonight the bed seemed bigger, colder. Sleeping by himself was getting old. He could change that if he wanted to; he didn’t have to sleep alone.
His brain skimmed over women he’d dated and women he hadn’t dated who’d shown interest when they’d slipped him cards or notes with inviting smiles on their faces—as recently as yesterday.
He sat up, clicked on the lamp, and riffled through the pile in his nightstand drawer. They wound up there simply because he emptied his pockets in his bedroom when he undressed, and he’d invariably come across one tucked away in his clothing. That card got tossed into the drawer with the others with the thought that maybe he’d follow up, only to be forgotten until he found one the next time and absentmindedly added it to the others.
As he shuffled through the impressive stack, he was struck by the fact that none of the names or faces stood out. Was he that obtuse, or were they that underwhelming? Maybe he was too picky. Maybe he should just take one of these women out and not wind up alone for a change. But the thought of digging for a spark, of searching for common ground over a meal, deflated him. It was exhausting. And having a body next to him for the sake of having a body next to him? Nah. Didn’t appeal.
With a sigh, he tossed them all back in the drawer and slammed it shut. One of these days he needed to clean them out. But not tonight.
As he laced his hands across his chest, Lily’s melodious laugh floated into his brain. Followed by her beautiful smile. Her bright blue eyes. Her glossy blond curls. Her skin that reminded him of cream. Her fragrance—like oranges and the star jasmine outside his mom’s house. He’d inhaled it all through the party and on her doorstep when he’d walked her to her door.
Every detail about Lily Everett was branded in his brain. Nothing about her was fuzzy, unlike the women in the drawer. And if he dared try to blur her out, his body was having none of it, rousing to her electrifying effect on him. Despite the fact that she didn’t want him.
With a sigh, he climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.
Chapter 10
Game Time
“Yes! Go, go! Yes!” Ivy shrieked behind Lily as they climbed over legs to reach their seats. Several heads turned their way.
“Ivy,” Lily ground out, “they’re just warming up. Save your voice for the actual game, okay?”
“Just getting my vocal chords ready.”
Lily rolled her eyes. Maybe bringing Ivy hadn’t been such a great idea after all. At least they weren’t sitting among the players’ families—those seats were gone, so Gage had gotten them club seats. Lily wasn’t complaining. She didn’t need the pressure, and on a swank factor, these rated just below box seats, and they were right at center ice. Perfect for watching the action at her first live NHL game.
She’d been scouring the ice since they’d entered and had a bead on the jersey with a huge six positioned below “Nelson.” Her heart executed a few discreet flips at the sight of him speeding fluidly