Hawk

by Amber Malloy

  Hawk winked at her while he pointed at Knox’s office—“Can I?”—and grabbed the doorknob.

  “Yes, he’s waiting for you.”

  The secretary’s giggles followed him in.

  “Stop flirting with my employees,” his best friend greeted him. Gavin Knox stood behind his desk, passing a sippy cup to one of the two cutest kids Hawk had ever laid eyes on.

  “Unc Hawwwwk!” the other screamed. She pushed herself up onto her chubby baby legs near her father’s desk. Bending down, he caught the bundle of pink frilliness who ran straight at him. As she hugged him tight, he kissed the curly-haired little cherub’s head.

  “What is this, take your kids to work day? Where’s your cooler, hotter half?” Hawk stood up with the baby tightly gripping his neck.

  “MIA. She dropped off the kids then chucked me deuces.” Knox bounced the baby up and down before he scooped his cell phone off his desk. “How was your trip?”

  “Peaceful, meditative and very, very calming.”

  Amazingly, Knox managed to text with his left hand while cradling the almost two-year-old toddler with his right. “Sounds boring as F.”

  Hawk stared into the face of what could have been the perfect All-American quarterback—except he wasn’t. The former four-peat Mega Bowl winner who had graced every sports cover, cereal box and TV screen was one hundred percent pure Canadian.

  The perfect specimen of a sports hero, Knox had pivoted careers seamlessly. He’d gone from everyone’s favorite quarterback to overseer of the number one football team in the United States. “Sorry we can’t all have the perfect life.”

  “Are you serious?” Knox balked. “You’ve never wanted this.”

  He scanned the Mavericks’ General Manager’s office. More spacious than most people’s apartment, his best friend had a one-hundred-eighty-degree panoramic view of the stadium. “Not if retirement looks like a regular nine-to-five in a suit.”

  “Oh, is that what this is about?”

  “Down, down.” The baby handed the empty cup to Knox, as he leaned down to put her on the floor.

  It was on the tip of Hawk’s tongue to spill his guts. He was contemplating retirement. Health-wise, he didn’t think he could play hockey much longer. Since Knox had already been through a lot with him, he didn’t want to load more crap onto his friend’s shoulders. “I’m not sure what’s next.”

  “Dude, I’ve invested all your promo money. You don’t need to figure it out anytime soon…if ever.” Knox grabbed a half-bald doll from his desk and passed it to Sadie while her sister, Nyla, played with Hawk’s shoulder-length hair. “What is this really about? Moe’s? Because that dirty dive was overdue for a makeover.”

  Hawk turned his head away to hide his smirk, right into the face of the chubby-faced kid. She patted his cheek to console him, which was super cute but uber pathetic on his part. He sucked her little fingers into his mouth and opened his eyes wide. Nyla’s uncontrollable giggles melted his heart.

  “It’s a lot of things, but that’s definitely at the top of my list. And that freaking manager! Frosty, stuck-up—”

  “Ooooh.” The toddler put her other hand over his mouth.

  “Mumm-mm-m.” He playfully nibbled on her baby hand.

  “Huh, you and Moe’s daughter must have hit it off.”

  “Daughter?” Hawk whipped his head in Knox’s direction. “Moe doesn’t have any kids.” Similar to a body check on ice, the air was sucked straight out of his lungs.

  “He does—and she’s some sort of anomaly.”

  “Such as?”

  Knox took a seat at his desk. “We haven’t been back to Moe’s since your Keating Cup run, which means I haven’t had time to get all the details yet, but—”

  “If she’s so amazing, then why would she be working at the bar?” Hawk pouted.

  “Hell, why do you?”

  “Hell, hell, hell,” Nyla chanted sweetly in his arms.

  “Thanks for that,” Knox grumbled. “Look… Obviously something is on your mind. How about we head over to Murphy’s pub and work on your retirement plan?”

  “Sure, but what about?” Hawk hung the toddler by her leg upside down and wiggled the little munchkin in the air. “Or did I miss when Murphy’s turned kid-friendly?”

  “Hell, hell, hell.” Nyla giggled and wiggled in front of him.

  “There’s no way I can get any work done now. Grab the stroller and we’ll sneak them in through the back door.”

  “If Remy asks,” Hawk muttered, “I didn’t know anything about this.” He flipped the baby behind his back with one hand to a peal of sweet baby giggles that boomed in his ear. Not at all on board with this plan, he followed Knox’s instructions to get the stroller.

  Chapter Three

  A harsh beam of sunlight streamed through her apartment window. In desperate need of caffeine, Lexi stumbled around her small kitchen, while Bloomberg Television played in the background.

  She hadn’t made it to the bar on time for at least a week. Sadly, she lived directly above Moe’s and still managed to run late every single day. Weak from lack of sleep, or simply run down from life in general, Lexi didn’t bother to explore which one weighed more heavily on her at the moment.

  Tucking her flirty blouse into her pencil skirt, she tried to ignore the music that vibrated the floorboards underneath her bare feet.

  The biggest mistake of her life had been marrying Josh. Of course, living above a blues bar seemed less serious in comparison but came dangerously close to nudging that fuck boy out of his numero uno position. In a few minutes Simone would hit the ceiling with a broom, a not-so-subtle hint for her to get her ass in gear.

  As Lexi transferred her phone to her left hand, she grabbed her mug off the drip tray and took note of SugarTech stock’s steady incline on the television. Before her public ousting, none of the company’s developers had anything ready to test, let alone release. One slip-up, only one from either her idiot ex-husband or SugarTech’s useless board of trustees, then she might have half a chance at getting her life back.

  Three solid thumps to Moe’s ceiling vibrated against the bottom of her feet. Lexi’s time was officially up. After flinging the foam run-off from the top of her cappuccino with her fingertips, she slipped into her heels.

  Lexi juggled her mug and gripped the doorknob as she glanced over her shoulder to see if she’d forgotten anything. The one-bedroom apartment had seen better days. A slutty film of eighties grime coated every nook and cranny. Since she hadn’t planned on staying for any length of time, she left the funky décor in place. Maybe if its cheesy appearance annoyed her enough, Lexi would finally get her shit together.

  She opened the door, then hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. Delightfully sweet laughter from the bar’s longtime cook filled the galley.

  “You’ll get used to this yet,” Peaches bubbled. Lexi hugged the dark chocolate woman from behind and kissed her cheek. Round in all the right places, she held onto to her a little longer than she should have.

  “God, I hope not,” she cooed in her ear. The best cook in the world patted her arm. Every morning she needed her daily dose of Peaches or she would lose her mind. After one more tight squeeze, Lexi walked to the swinging door to the bar and flung it open. “I’m here, I’m here—”

  “And late, I might add.” Hawk gestured between himself and Simone, while the jarring sound of a needle sliding off the record bellowed inside her head. “That’s just unprofessional. I mean, how do you think that looks to the rest of us?” Raising his thick eyebrow, the big dude from the previous night seemed to actually wait for an answer.

  Smug muthafucka, was her first thought. Don’t stare at his square jaw and perfectly symmetrical face, quickly turned into her second.

  “Looks like you did in fact talk to my manager,” she told him. Moe had called her last night, insisting she keep the big crybaby. The deal those two had between them made no sense, but she didn’t want to press the point.

 
“Sure did.” He leaned his muscled arm against the bar and tossed her a big, toothy grin. The short sleeves of his T-shirt left nothing to her imagination. This man was a perfectly cut specimen of peaks and valleys. “It’s funny how you didn’t mention he was your daddy.”

  Lexi’s phone vibrated in her hand. “Considering there was a large maniac screaming at me in a bar full of people, it must have slipped my mind,” she muttered before she dropped her eyes to her screen. A countdown that began at twelfth hour took over her home menu. No doubt it was a ploy by her ex to goad her.

  Evidently putting thousands of miles between them must have thrown a kink in his plans to needle her into a face-to-face confrontation. Lexi ignored her phone and placed her attention back on the real-life giant who continued to stare her down.

  “Since you called Moe to tattle, please don’t let me interrupt whatever it is”—she waved her hand wildly in the air—“you do around here.” Lexi spun on her heels and headed to her office. The man seemed pumped to go a few more rounds with her, but if she factored her current mood into the equation, she knew he would probably win.

  * * * *

  As the seventeen-year-old tuned his guitar on stage, Lexi dropped a basket of Peaches’ famous buffalo wings off at the booth in the corner. She had made a deal with a retired music teacher on the southside, who tutored in his spare time. If he taught his students blues, then they could play for Moe’s lunch crowd.

  A dozen hangers-on from the noon crush still lingered longer than usual. Peaches’ appetizers were legendary and apparently were the sole reason Moe’s doors had managed to stay open this long.

  Stopping off at the bar, she picked up a mug of black coffee, while the young musician worked his way into Muddy Waters’ She Moves Me. A gravely growl erupted from the kid’s lanky body.

  “What do you think?” She placed the cup in front of one of her father’s old bandmates, Carl, aka Crazy Legs.

  “Better than that last one,” he grunted.

  “There’s nothing stopping you from giving them tips.”

  “Babysitting is not my thing.” He picked up his mug and blew on the piping hot drink. “When’s Moe coming in?”

  Lexi didn’t have an answer for him. Instead, she took in the kid’s clean tone and strong command of the room. “This one’s got something.” She patted the old man on the back. “Talk with him. I think he’ll appreciate it.”

  “Humph, maybe,” Carl grunted.

  Behind on paperwork, she headed to her office. Lexi still needed more servers, preferably ones who wouldn’t rob them blind. The alert from her phone vibrated against the top of her desk. She glanced down at the screen—four hours had passed on the countdown.

  An uncomfortable bubble of dread churned in her stomach. There was nothing a narcissist hated more than the perceived loss of control. Quick to extinguish the flame of anxiety Josh wanted to create, she opened her desk drawer and placed her cell inside, slamming it shut.

  “Who’s on a first-name basis with their parents?”

  Lexi’s head jerked up to find problem number two in her crosshairs. Hawk leaned against the doorway, shooting her a lazy smirk she’d fought hard to ignore the entire day.

  “That sounds like a question for Moe.” She trained her face into a blank slate, devoid of emotion. Lexi wished she could say the tech world had taught her that trick, but unfortunately that particular talent was a holdover from her shitty marriage.

  “It’s just curious I’ve worked here for a few years and haven’t seen you, not once?”

  As Hawk graced her with a lopsided smile, bright specks of brown and green twinkled in his hazel eyes. Similar to a bad kid, mischief was written all over his pretty mug. Maybe in another life she would have played with him, but unfortunately Josh had stomped out any sort of good humor.

  “That is another question for Moe. So far you’re batting a thousand.”

  “Well, let me hit you with one that you can answer.” He pushed off the door and brought a picture frame from behind him. “Why did you hide all this awesomeness in the stockroom?” Standing smack in the middle of sexiest people she’d ever laid eyes on, the big guy held up a trophy.

  “Ah, what sport is that?” she asked, completely in the dark.

  “Hockey.”

  Imagining the man spinning a graceful figure eight, she coughed into her hand, hiding her chuckle. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Moe’s is a blues bar, right?”

  “Got it. I’m no Louis Armstrong, but I’m a championship winner—and Chicago loves their winners.”

  Arrogant much? She bit her lower lip to stop all the smart remarks from flying out of her mouth. “Blues and hockey aren’t exactly peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Point,” he sighed, evidently done with dispensing the charm.

  “They don’t mix.” Lexi leaned back in her seat. “Honestly, these people probably think you’re just a really big bartender.”

  “Then you should hang this up.” He held the picture of all the beautiful people higher. “In the main bar—to prove them wrong.”

  Her phone buzzed inside her desk again. No matter how much the puck molester provided a good distraction, Josh would never let Lexi forget that he existed.

  “How’s this…” She tapped her finger against her head in quiet contemplation. “And I’m just spitballing here, but why don’t you learn to sing the blues?”

  Faster than the beats of a bumblebee’s wing, his affable mask of sweetness dissolved. “Okay, lady… What the hell is your problem?” he asked, stepping closer to her desk.

  Rhetorical? That was rhetorical, right? Since all six-foot-four inches of the answer loomed above her.

  “It’s obvious not many people tell you no, so why don’t you go cry to Moe? Then, pick a spot to stick that picture, preferably up your—”

  “Ma, Pa”—Simone peeked her head in her office doorway with a tense smile—“we hate it when you fight.” She lowered her voice. “Seriously, you two psychos, we have customers.”

  “I’m out of here.” Hawk tossed the framed picture onto the leather couch and took off.

  Stepping farther into the room, Simone shut the door behind her. “What did I tell you?”

  Ah crap. Lexi hated Simone’s ‘go to the corner’ reprimands. Hoping to make it easier on herself, she averted her eyes to focus anywhere but the normally sweet bartender’s face.

  “Hey.” Simone snapped her fingers close to her nose. “That trick doesn’t work for my five-year-old. What makes you think it’s going to work for you?”

  “Mehmehmehmeh,” she rushed out in a stream under her breath. “Cause I’m grown.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.”

  What the hell? Did this woman have super elf hearing?

  “Look.” The Mohawk-sporting, five-foot-nothing woman placed her palms flat on her desk and smooshed her cute little face in front of hers. “That shiny remodel you did out there was well needed, but this place doesn’t work without Sugarfoot Mosely’s blues, Peaches’ amazing appetizers and that sexy ass man who just walked out of here.”

  “He’s not that sexy,” Lexi muttered.

  “Gurl, did that divorce screw with your eyesight?” She cocked her head to the side, causing her asymmetrical hair to flop into her thick lashes. “Because you ain’t looking hard enough.”

  Chapter Four

  Once again, Hawk found himself walking to clear his head. Chicago’s August was unpredictable. Mild weather was every city-dweller’s dream, but a humid attack of brutality was generally what the masses received, whether they wanted it or not.

  Summer was winding down, and he had three more weeks until training camp. Hawk had no idea why he allowed that woman any room to get under his skin. It might have had something to do with the way he grew up, but he wanted to lay blame at Lexi Waters’ feet and nowhere else.

  For him to have bagged a cheerleader was a no-brainer. Even though he was an orphaned kid, he’d still had his pick of the geeks, goths
and popular girls.

  No one had wanted to turn down the only biracial orphan who not only played sports but conquered them. He had that ‘bad boy misunderstood’ thing down to a science. However, there was one group who wouldn’t give him the time of day. No matter how hard he’d tried, the beautiful, brainy girls paid him dust. Not to be confused with the nerd or the chick next door—those two groups were either awarded smartest or most popular in the yearbook.

  The beautiful brain was a self-defining chick who always scored most successful. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out, but he’d finally settled on that thing called a path. Most successful girls never deviated from the path nor would they tool around with a guy who didn’t have one. After a while, he had a sixth sense for those type of chicks and steered clear of them.

  Hawk may not have known one single solitary thing about Moe’s secret daughter, but what he did know was that the ‘most successful’ title oozed from her pores.

  “Thought I would find you here.” He crossed through the lush grass and headed straight for Sugarfoot Mosely. The bright rays from the sun illuminated his dark brown skin. Moe dug his hand into the bag on his lap. He tossed bread into the pond, causing a raft of ducks to float closer.

  “Breaktime already?” Moe asked, tossing out more crumbs.

  “What the hell? I’ve been gone for almost two months, and when I come back, you have a full-grown kid?” One who resembles a video girl from the late nineties or early two thousands. He had pinpointed that exact era due to the immeasurable amount of time he’d spent spanking his meat to those videos.

  “Call me foolish, but I was hoping you two would get along for more than five minutes.”

  The ducks paddled in the water in front of them. Hawk popped a squat next to the blues legend and took a deep breath. The day was unbearably hot in every way imaginable. “Talk, old man. You owe me that much.”

  “Lexington’s mother was a dancer with the circuit,” Moe began. “We would bump into each other from time to time.”

  “Literally, I take it?”