Goaltending: Seattle Sockeyes Hockey (Game On in Seattle Book 8)

by Jami Davenport

  Only it wasn’t going to end. Ever.

  He shuddered.

  The dolls, some naked, some half dressed, mocked him as they lay strewn across his wood floors, while plastic horses claimed his rug for their pasture as if it were their right. He missed the days of beer bottles littering the place, along with half-eaten bowls of chips and dip.

  Those days were over.

  This was his life now.

  The DNA test was back, and denial no longer worked for him.

  He was a father.

  A fucking father.

  Shouldn’t he feel joy instead of dread and fear? Shouldn’t he be passing out cigars in the locker room instead of posting his partier obituary? Shouldn’t he be looking forward to father-daughter moments instead of the next road trip?

  Instead, he was miserable as hell for not being happier about this.

  No child deserved him as a father. He wasn’t fit to be one. Didn’t want to be one. Didn’t want to grow up and settle down yet. Only he hadn’t been consulted or given a vote.

  He should’ve guessed the law of averages had been against him. When a guy slept around as much as he had, he skyrocketed the chances of a one-in-one-thousand condom failure resulting in pregnancy.

  Macy was a cute little girl, though moody, which he suspected was normal for little girls. He remembered his sister running hot and cold like that.

  He sighed, elbows on the table, and rested his head in his hands.

  Macy was his.

  His daughter.

  DNA tests don’t lie.

  He waited for that one terrifying, yet amazing, fact to sink in.

  He had a child.

  Brick, the party boy of the NHL, had a daughter, and fuck if he knew what he was going to do about it.

  Hours later, Brick was still sitting at his dining room table nursing the same now-warm beer. Monday was a rare day off. He’d skipped the optional practice and called in sick to the team meeting in the afternoon, citing personal reasons. He’d had hours to ponder his dilemma and come to terms with his new reality.

  He was feeling better. He’d never been one to dwell. His mom accused him of avoiding or burying the bad stuff, instead of using it as a learning process. He didn’t see it that way. He’d find a way to make this work without shaking up his lifestyle. His mind rummaged through various options and weighed the possibilities of each.

  Now that she was truly family, he’d invite his mother and stepfather to meet her once the European trip ended. They wouldn’t be able to resist her, and they’d stop teaching him a lesson. They’d take her home with them, knowing Brick’s lifestyle wasn’t appropriate for a child. He’d visit occasionally, do his daddy duties, and spend a few weeks in the summer with her.

  And if they wouldn’t take her, he’d hire a full-time nanny with benefits. He already knew the one whose benefits he wanted.

  With a grin, Brick wiped his face with the towel draped across one shoulder. Macy would be here in about an hour.

  He dreaded turning the heat up. He was dying already. His stepmother had kept her house unusually warm, and he’d come to find that warmth as oppressive as her stifling, critical attitude toward him. Once that year living with Dad and his new stepmother had ended, he’d gone to stay with his mother and sister in a mountain cabin. To conserve heat, they kept the place about fifty-five, a welcome respite from the suffocating temperature of his stepmother’s house.

  Just hold out for a little while longer.

  Brick poured a glass of ice water and called his mother, hoping he’d be able to get through. He’d play the part of a contrite new father and beg for her help. His mom loved nothing more than meddling in her children’s lives, and he’d make sure he groveled so she’d think he’d learned that lesson.

  Then she’d drive to Seattle once she returned from her trip and pick up Macy, knowing how busy he was during the season.

  He grinned and waited for her to answer.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Your ears must be ringing. Rick and I were just talking about you.”

  “Rick’s there?” Good. He could hit both at once.

  “Hey, Marty,” said his stepfather. Obviously, their mother had put him on speaker.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t checked in with you sooner, but the cell service and wireless access have been nonexistent. You got lucky. Catch us up on everything.”

  They listened as Brick relayed the last week and the results of the test, staying oddly quiet and not interrupting him with questions as they normally did. A small bite of worry pinched his gut.

  “I’m a grandmother,” Connie Bricker said with wonder. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “And I’m a grandfather. You must send us pictures, Marty.”

  “I will. Lots. But why don’t you guys plan a visit? As soon as you get back.” The sooner the better.

  “We’ll see. I’d love to meet her.” His mother sounded cautious.

  “Me, too. We’ll talk and get back to you.”

  “You’ll fall in love with her,” Brick insisted.

  There was silence for a few seconds. Brick could picture them exchanging glances in silent communication. His wariness kicked up a couple notches.

  “Brick.” His mother adopted that same stern tone she’d used all through his childhood, before she slipped into lecture mode. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what you’re up to. We still haven’t decided whether or not we want to raise another child at this point in our lives. Ultimately, this child is your responsibility. God knows you could use a little responsibility in your life.”

  Brick stifled a groan, feeling sick to his stomach. “I’m not fit to be a father.”

  “Enjoy her. Embrace being a father. Give yourself a chance. Being a parent is one of the most wonderful experiences you could ever hope to have. They grow up too fast, so savor the time you have.”

  “I—”

  “Oh, sorry, we have to go. We’re late for bingo.” His mom cut him off before he could reply.

  Brick stared at the silent phone and sighed. This wasn’t going as easily as he’d expected.

  He perked up a little. He’d hire Amelia full time and still have freedom on his road trips. He could make this work with minimal changes to his routine. And eventually he’d wear down his mother, because a girl needed a woman in her life more than she needed a man, especially a guy like him.

  He heard the key turn in the lock. Squaring his shoulders, he prepared to face his daughter.

  His daughter.

  The daughter who hadn’t called him Daddy in days.

  * * * *

  Macy raced into the house with Amelia in tow. She saw Brick standing there, glanced briefly at him, and ran into the living room. Amelia found that heartbreaking, but Brick seemed okay with it. Macy, like most children who’d grown up in a less-than-favorable environment didn’t realize the dysfunction wasn’t normal.

  Brick looked at Amelia, his expression inscrutable. His dark eyes gave her a smoldering once-over before moving to the little girl. Macy tossed her coat on the floor and plunked down in front of her menagerie, jabbering away.

  There was something different about the expression on Brick’s face, but Amelia couldn’t put a finger on it. She’d never seen him stare so intently at Macy, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

  Maybe he was.

  Brick walked across the floor and picked up the coat, hanging it in the closet. “I guess I’d better get her enrolled in kindergarten before child services hunts me down.”

  “It’d be a good idea.” Amelia stood by the door, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. She’d never met a single dad she wanted to strangle and comfort at the same time as much as this one.

  “Where’s the school?”

  “It’s close. I can show you in the morning.” She wanted to touch him, reach out and tell him it’d all be okay. He could do this. He just needed to believe in himself.

  “Okay, sounds good. We’ll go there. How d
oes she get to day care after school ends?”

  “They’ll bus her. She has a few friends from day care who attend that same school.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “I’m going to need you more than the two weeks we agreed upon.”

  Amelia knew for sure then. “The test was positive.” She stated the obvious.

  He met her gaze, his brow drew a straight line across his forehead, and his gaze flickered back to Macy again. “Yeah, but I’m working on options. For now, I’m making the best of it.”

  “What kind of options?”

  “You could stay and keep us both company.”

  Amelia had to laugh. “You never give up, do you?”

  “Never. I’m a goalie, remember? I’m stubborn and focused on the puck.”

  “And I’m the puck?”

  “Puck yeah.” He chuckled at his stupid pun, and she rolled her eyes.

  “So, what are your real options, excluding me in your bed?”

  “You’re breaking my heart, here, Meel.” He clasped his hands to his chest and swayed back and forth.

  Amelia shook her head and laughed. Who could resist an idiot like this one?

  He sobered as his gaze slid back to Macy. “My mom might take her when she returns from Europe. At least during the season.” His voice sounded flat and devoid of emotion.

  “And if she won’t?”

  He smiled a wry yet enduring smile. “I’ll beg you to stay on.”

  “I’m going to school and working at the day care.” Amelia shook her head. Staying in this house full time with this man would be nothing short of disaster. She couldn’t take another stab to the chest after the number Darrell did on her. Nor did she need another man who didn’t want his child. Darrell had ruined her for any other man and not in a good way, pretending to love her, marrying her, getting her pregnant, all while being married to another woman. Yeah, she knew how to pick ’em.

  “I can make it worth your while.” By the way he looked her up and down and grinned, he wasn’t referring to money.

  She bit back a smart comeback, knowing any kind of challenge encouraged him. “I can give you one more week. You’ll have to replace me after that.”

  “I’ll only need one more week to get what I want.” He stood and moved into her personal space. He touched a lock of her hair, winding it around his big finger.

  Amelia stood her ground. “Never happen, Goalie Man. I’m immune to your charms.”

  “I don’t think so, and I’ll prove it.” His brown eyes burned a path down her body and back to her lips. Digging deep for strength, she backed away from him.

  “I need to get going.” She was treading on shaky ground by challenging a man who met and defeated challenges for a living.

  His cocky facade dissolved to near panic. “You can’t leave yet. Stay for dinner.”

  “Don’t tell me the biggest, baddest goalie in the NHL is afraid of a little girl.”

  He glanced at Macy, happily lecturing one of her dolls on the proper way to ride a horse. “Scared shitless.”

  If he’d denied the obvious truth and used another come-on line, Amelia would’ve walked out the door without another thought…well, not much thought, but his honesty made her hesitate, and the desperation in his eyes won her over.

  “Okay. What’s for dinner?”

  “Uh, I don’t cook.” He smiled sheepishly at her. “Frozen pizza or maybe hot dogs?”

  “Seriously?” She sighed. “I’m guessing you want me to cook?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Am I on the clock?”

  “If you wanna be.”

  She thought she detected disappointment in his voice, as if he wished she’d stay because she wanted to, not because she was being paid to stay.

  That line of thinking would get her into a kind of trouble she didn’t need.

  * * * *

  Brick watched in fascination as Amelia hustled around his kitchen, placing chicken, potatoes, and vegetables on the counter. Since he never grocery shopped, these had to be items she’d purchased during one of her stays. He liked the looks of her in his kitchen. Hell if he knew why, but he did. Something about all this reminded him of simpler days before his parents split up, back when he thought his dad was perfect and his mother was the love of his father’s life. How quickly things had changed.

  Yet seeing Amelia efficiently chop vegetables calmed a part of him that hadn’t been calm in a long time, that restless part that kept looking for something, not knowing what it was until he found it.

  Maybe he had found it?

  She was beautiful and intelligent, and didn’t take his crap. Most of all, she got along fabulously with a little girl who desperately needed a mother. He wanted her in the worst way. Looking at her right now dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and worn jeans, she was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Just watching the expert way she manhandled those vegetables made his dick hard.

  He ran his hand through his hair, suddenly feeling hot. He checked the thermostat and nudged it down a few degrees, hoping no one would notice.

  Needing to distract his libido, he wandered over to Macy. She glanced up at him and ducked her head. She didn’t like him, he realized with a pang of regret. He’d gone out of his way to make it clear she was an inconvenience, and she’d picked up on his cues. He’d probably underestimated how much a five-year-old processed. Other than the Barbie shopping, their interactions had been minimal.

  Beyond hockey, Brick had dedicated his entire life to having a good time. Part of having a good time was making sure everyone loved and adored him. This little girl did not, and her attitude was of his making. She hadn’t started out like this. Maybe he could charm her as he did the other females in his life, but he doubted it.

  He crouched down. Being a goalie, he could hold that position forever. “How are the horses doing? Do we need to buy more hay for them?”

  Macy met his gaze, her expression guarded. She glanced at the four horses in her herd and back to him.

  “No, they have pasture. Maybe in the winter we’ll need more.” She spoke with the utmost seriousness.

  “What about the Barbies? Do they need anything?”

  Macy once again assessed her dolls and the miniature clothes scattered on the floor. “They might, but Meel will take me shopping.” She turned back to her dolls, promptly dismissing him. Brick held his position for a few more strained seconds. Her little jaw was clenched and her back as stiff as a hockey stick. She didn’t want him around, and his chest ached in the oddest place. He rubbed it, trying to recall what he’d had for lunch.

  With a sigh, he stood and returned to his seat at the counter, silently brooding as Amelia efficiently whipped up dinner.

  Amelia put a casserole in the oven, poured herself a glass of wine, and leaned on the counter across from him. “Gave you the cold shoulder, did she?” She kept her voice low.

  “Yeah. She’s so different from the day she showed up on my doorstep.”

  “Different how?”

  Brick leaned across the counter under the guise of keeping their conversation private, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t curb an overwhelming desire to be closer. He inhaled the subtle perfume she wore. It reminded him of the smell of the spring flowers growing in his parents’ backyard in Vancouver. He’d never be able to smell those flowers again without thinking of Amelia.

  “Different? How is she different from earlier?” Amelia prodded.

  “Ah, she flew at me like a tornado, wrapped her arms around me, and called me Daddy. She hasn’t called me that since those first few days, nor has she been overly enthusiastic to have me around.”

  “I’ve noticed she’s withdrawn at times, too, so it isn’t just you.”

  “But a big part of it is me, isn’t it?” He sighed and a heavy weight settled on his shoulders. Was this how responsibility felt?

  “Yes, I won’t lie to you. She’s worried you’ll send her away. She lost her mothe
r and her grandmother. That’s a lot of loss in five years.” The chastising look of disappointment in Amelia’s eyes cut him straight to the bone and hurt more than he’d ever care to admit.

  “I’m not father material.”

  “And you never will be with that sort of thinking. No one is born fully equipped to be a parent. Most people learn as they go, do the best they can, and show their children they love them.”

  Brick didn’t like this conversation. “There is one thing I’m fully equipped for and was born to do.” He slid his hand across the counter and traced her fingers with the tip of his thumb. She shivered but didn’t pull back. Their eyes met, and he saw the same smoldering fire reflected in her eyes that he felt in his body.

  “Brick.” She spoke breathlessly.

  “If Macy weren’t here, I’d strip you naked and do you on the balcony railing.”

  Amelia swallowed and uttered the cutest little squeak from deep in her throat.

  “You’d like me driving into you while you clung to me, knowing the neighbors could be watching, but we’d keep the lights off so they wouldn’t see much.”

  “They’d probably hear more,” Amelia admitted.

  “Ah, a screamer, are you? I like it when my women let me know how good it feels.”

  “Your women?” Amelia jerked her hand away as if he’d burned it and backed up a few steps. Her eyes flashed with disgust and anger.

  He winced, knowing exactly what dumbass thing he’d said this time.

  “You’re such a selfish, clueless bastard, and to think I was stupid enough that I almost fell for your bullshit. You don’t deserve me, and you sure as hell don’t deserve that little girl. You need to get a new nanny. My last day is Saturday.”

  Amelia stomped off to play dolls with Macy, leaving him alone to ponder his idiocy. She tossed a scathing glare over her shoulder, which scraped across his skin and pierced his heart, hurting worse than that time as a child when he’d been tangled in thorny vines and had to fight his way out.

  * * * *

  Amelia needed moral support before she caved and fast, and she knew exactly where to get it. Instead of going back to the day care after class, she took a rare break.