Scoring Off The Ice: Ice Kings, #2

by Stacey Lynn

  I’m not sure which is worse.

  “He’s so slippery. I feel like I will drop him!”

  Next to me, Paisley giggles. She pours warm water over Angelo’s head as he turns toward it.

  Bonus to having her teach me how to bathe him, she has to be close to me. Her arm keeps brushing mine. I want to have her always help me with bath time.

  It’s a weird kink, maybe. Planning a baby’s bath only to be with a woman. But I like when she’s close to me, teaching me, her soft hand on my back, encouraging me. Granted, that happened once and she yanked her hand away as fast as she could, but still. After avoiding me for most of the dinner and then insisting on cleaning up while Angelo woke up mad and angry and starving, she willingly touched me.

  As soon as the kitchen was cleaned, she found the baby bathtub in the hallway bathroom and set it up next to the kitchen sink with a huge pile of towels and bottle of baby wash.

  “Hannah really thought of everything,” she said, smiling at pale blue towels and one that looks like a monkey at one corner for Angelo’s head. Who knew they made such silly things?

  As I burped Angelo, she warmed the water and filled the tub with only a few inches of water. I stripped him down and as soon as I set him in the water, his entire body seemed to melt right into the chair while I held the back of his head.

  Now, he’s slippery as a worm and while Paisley washes and rinses his hair, I keep scooping warm water on his tummy so he doesn’t get cold. His little toes look a bit blue and I realize it’s the first time I’ve simply stared at him.

  His rounded belly. The chunk at his thighs. I’ve been so scared and stressed all weekend, I’ve focused on keeping him alive instead of focusing on him.

  And now that I can, with Paisley cooing at him and him being so much happier, something wet and burning pricks at my eyes.

  “He’s so perfect.” I clear my throat. “Isn’t he?”

  I can’t bring myself to look at Paisley. She’s frozen, mid-pour to get the last of the soap out of his hair and then we’re done.

  Seeing me cry isn’t going to help anything.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do with him?” she asks, and her voice has gone soft. Almost worried. Possibly sad.

  “I’ll keep him.”

  “I didn’t mean you wouldn’t. I meant, have you thought about what happens when you go to work? Or… travel?”

  She says the word like it’s a bad thing. Like she doesn’t like the fact I play hockey.

  I’m not sure what to do with the tone in her voice. I could be misunderstanding.

  “Hannah gave me the name of a place. Um. Like a babysitter? Au pair?”

  “Nanny is more common than au pair here, but that’s a good idea.”

  “Right. Nanny service. She said she used it when she was working when they had their first kid. I plan on calling them tomorrow.”

  Angelo’s gummy mouth is now chattering, so Paisley reaches for the towel with the strange corner.

  “Hold him up.”

  I do and she slides the corner over his head. It falls down over his eyes and I’m holding him with my arms out, his legs kicking and he gets more unhappy by the second until she wraps the towel around him and then another.

  “There you go.”

  I kiss his cheek and hold him tight to me. I need to change my clothes again. So does Paisley. We’ve both been splashed and have spilled water on ourselves, but I did it.

  With help, but it doesn’t seem too hard by myself, either.

  “There.” She slides her hand down Angelo’s back, smiling at him. She must love babies because she always gets this soft and sappy tone in her voice when she looks at him. “I can change him?”

  “I’ll clean up.” She takes him from me, but for the first time, I’m almost reluctant to let him go. But it’s Paisley, it’s not like she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

  But still. I have a few days off Coach insisted I take, but now I have to consider leaving him for hours at a time? With a stranger?

  My teeth grind together while I clean out the bathtub and put the unused towels and baby soap away. By the time I’m done, Paisley has Angelo dressed in what I now know is called a sleeper. He’s sucking on his pacifier and he looks perfect in her arms, beneath a thicker blanket, tucked close to her boob.

  “So, you’ll hire a nanny?”

  I don’t know if she realizes she always does that swaying bounce move when she holds him, but I like seeing it every time.

  “I think so.” I brush my hand through my hair. Everything on me is wet, but if I leave to change, I have a feeling I’ll come out to a missing Paisley. “It’s probably best. I have room for someone to sleep in and stay here when I travel. And I’ll have long days, a weird schedule during the season.”

  “Having him be here in his own home will be good for him.”

  “Yes? You think?” I think so too. It’s nice to confirm I’m doing something right. “Good. This week I have to call them. My lawyer is figuring out when I can take a blood test. And then we’ll have to find his mom.”

  My jaw is in danger of snapping. Every time I think of Angela and everything she kept from me, I want to punch a wall. But I need good hands for my season.

  “Do you… do you have doubts?”

  Doubts? I have too many to list. The top of which is if I’m capable of this. I’m twenty-three years old. An adult in the eyes of the world and a star in the hockey world.

  But I still like to hang out alone and stay up too late playing my Playstation that sometimes it also feels like I’m only pretending to be grown up.

  And now to be in charge of a baby? Yes, I have too many doubts.

  But is Angela a liar?

  “I don’t think so. Angela, his mom, well, some guys on the team know her. I do not think she’d make this up. And…” I swallow my thoughts. Do I want her to know she’s the only woman I’ve been with?

  A snickering sound comes from her and she looks like she’s holding back a laugh.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She waves her hand in the air but she seems to be laughing harder. “It’s just… well, your names and his. I mean, it sort of pisses me off she clearly named her son after her and then left him. But you two… together…”

  “Me and Angela?”

  “No. You and Angelo. The names fit.”

  “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

  Her smile grows as she notices my confusion and she lets out a giggle. “Well, your names. They sound like they go together. Like the artist. The painter? Michelangelo? That’s you two when you put them together. Mikah-Angelo.”

  She laughs softly again and the sweet sound is contagious because I find myself laughing as well. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “It’s cute.” She presses her hand gently to the side of Angelo’s face, running a finger along his brow. I’ve seen her do this before. She’s very tender. “I like it. And him.”

  She doesn’t mention me. But her eyes flutter to me and she quickly looks away.

  I want her to know even if she thinks it’s strange.

  “Angela is the only woman I’ve been with, um… have had sex with.”

  It’s a bomb she doesn’t see coming and her green eyes flash.

  “My birthday last year.” I clear my throat again. It’s suddenly gone dry and the longer she goes without saying anything, the more heat creeps up my neck.

  “Well, wow. I suppose then from your side that would take away any doubts about him being yours.”

  “He’s mine.”

  Somehow, I know it. I might not be bonded to him yet and he is still a stranger. But I see me in him and in the blond fuzz on his head.

  “My life has been hockey,” I tell her, because I want her to get it. I want her to know everything. “I worked hard all my life to get to the NHL in America. It was my father’s goal for me before it was ever mine and I never had time for anything else, or maybe it’s more correct to say I w
asn’t given time for anything else.”

  Her eyes soften and everything about her looks sad.

  “Have you told your parents yet?”

  “No. My father will be angry and my mom will take his side. I’ll let them know eventually. But not until everything else is settled.” I haven’t seen them since I moved here. I’ve had no desire to return to Denmark and I have not offered to fly them out. They could come if they wanted to with the money I send them, but they won’t.

  In my arms, Angelo has fallen asleep. My clothes are still damp but I don’t want this to end.

  “I should get going. I have early class tomorrow.”

  It’s an excuse. I don’t know if I’ve scared her away by telling her I don’t have much experience, but I hope not.

  She moves to step around me and there isn’t much space between her and the counter. I slide out my arm, stopping her, and my hand settles on her hip.

  I have to look down at her, she’s so much shorter than me, and her head tilts back, eyes meeting mine. She doesn’t have the look of someone turned off by what I’ve said to her. She’s guarded, but her cheeks are pink.

  Yes. I think she likes it when I touch her as much as I do.

  “Thank you, for dinner and your company and your help. It’s your company I like the most, though. Please, come over anytime.”

  Her body relaxes, leans into me. And it’s the same sensation I felt earlier when I held her. Heat swirls and pulses and even though there’s a baby in my arms I still want to pull her to me and do more.

  “Mikah,” she whispers my name like a warning. “This… I don’t know… I think friends is good for us. You know? With you… Angelo… we’re both busy.”

  “We can start with friends.”

  But I’ll push for more. Another night. Soon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Paisley

  * * *

  “Hey Maggie? You like sports, right?”

  I can’t believe I’m asking this. I can’t get Mikah out of my mind. It’s Wednesday and Maggie and I are in a study in the room in the library. We’re supposed to be focused on researching teaching techniques for children who have been diagnosed with disorders such as ADHD and ADD and the differences of what will help both learn most effectively.

  We’ve been friends since our first year in college. Her attire when she isn’t being a teacher assistant is usually leggings or shorts and a wide variety of tank tops and sweatshirts showing off sports teams like the Raleigh Rough Riders, the professional football team in North Carolina.

  But she’s also talked about going to basketball games and she’s excited about the new professional soccer franchise coming soon to Charlotte.

  I know all this because Maggie talks. A lot.

  “What? You know I do. Why?” Her question is barely a mumble and she doesn’t bother looking up from her computer screen. Something I should be more focused on.

  I shouldn’t have started this conversation, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

  About Mikah.

  About one of the last things he said to me. We can start with friends.

  Like he wants more. I flew out of his condo so quickly it’s a wonder I didn’t slam through the wall on my way out, leaving a hole in the shape of my body.

  He’s clearly not thinking straight what with the lack of sleep and major life shift he’s experiencing. We barely know each other!

  But his touch.

  I shiver at the memory of his arm across my stomach, hand falling to my hip, his thumb that brushed against my side through my shirt.

  “No reason,” I mutter. I need to kick him out of my mind. It’s best for everyone.

  “Oh, no no no.” She swivels her chair and rolls it toward me, feet pushing her forward. She looks ridiculous and every time she jolts forward in her chair, her dark brown hair wrapped in a thick messy bun on the top of her head wobbles. “You’re asking for a reason and you’ve never asked about sports. We’re talking about this. What’s going on?”

  She’s never mentioned hockey. Maybe she doesn’t like it. Maybe she doesn’t know anything.

  “Do you like hockey?”

  My mouth needs to sync up with my brain. Stat. Why am I continuing this? I have work to do. So does she.

  “I mean, it’s okay. I love it during the playoffs when it’s really intense, and I like watching it live. Asher gets tickets through his company a few times a year and we can watch from a suite which makes it that much cooler. And when they fight on the ice? That’s so sexy.”

  “They fight?” I try to imagine Mikah throwing a punch. I can’t do it. He’s so quiet and sweet. Sexy and built, sure, but his personality doesn’t seem like someone who can lose their cool.

  Now, the guy… Byron who came to his house last Friday? Him I can see fighting for fun.

  “Yes. And it’s awesome.” Maggie is nuts. She has to be. “But for the most part, I spend most of the fall watching football. Once that’s done though, I follow hockey. Why?”

  “I finally met my neighbor.”

  “The hot one?” She leans forward, hands curl around the edge of the chair like she’s about ready to jump out of it.

  It’s possible I’ve mentioned my obsession with Mikah a time or twenty, and now I’m wishing I hadn’t because understanding dawns in her dark brown eyes.

  “Are you telling me your hottie neighbor is a hockey player? For who?”

  “Ice Kings,” I mutter. Now I wish I wouldn’t have brought it up. I can’t tell her how I met Mikah. I promised I wouldn’t say anything and even if I trust Maggie, I don’t like hiding information.

  I’ve teased her before that she should have had a career in journalism with as much as she loves to dig into other people’s business.

  Case and point… she’s already jumped out of her chair and she’s at my desk.

  “Who. Who is he? I don’t follow it closely enough to know the names or anything, well, except for the Taylors but everyone in hockey knows Jude and Jason and their brothers. Their family is a legend in the game.”

  I’m lost as she babbles. I have no clue who she’s talking about, but she shoves me out of the way and wiggles my mouse hooked up to my laptop.

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “Mikah Lutzgo.” I’m still mumbling and strangely warm. It’s the sun outside burning me up. It has to be.

  “Oh, I’ve heard that name. He’s good. Young, right?”

  “Our age.”

  “Wow.” Her eyes pop open and she types in his name and then she falls silent.

  She Googles his name and clicks on the images tab and suddenly my screen is filled with images of the guy I’ve spent days thinking about. Blond hair. Strong chin and cheekbones. Eyes narrowed in concentration through the face mask. My mouth waters. He looks larger in his gear, but I’ve seen him without anything on at all.

  Stop thinking about Mikah naked!

  It’s pointless to yell at myself. I can’t stop picturing that first glance of him. Or how he looks in gray sweats after they’re wet from giving Angelo a bath.

  “Holy cow. You weren’t kidding, he’s hot.” She grins down at me and I swear she’s blushing. “Like mega hot. And this is your neighbor? Did you finally get the guts to go say hi or something?”

  Something like that.

  “We met in the hall. Said hello, started talking.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “A little. Over the weekend.” And then cooked him dinner, had a drink, fantasized about him, dreamt of him…wanted to go say hello a dozen other times. It’s possible my stalker status should be upgraded to obsession.

  “And you haven’t said anything until now?” Her voice is pitching higher and then she frowns. “Listen, Paisley. This is serious girl code you’re breaking here. You meet the hot guy you’ve gaped over for months and you call your friend.” She shoves her thumb into her own chest and continues. “You talk to the hottie, you call your friend. You find out he’s a professional athlete.. you
call. Your. Friend. Capiche?”

  She’s leaning close to me, serious as stone. It’s too bad she’s so cute with her squished up faux-angry face. It’s difficult not to laugh at her.

  “Step back. I don’t need to smell your lunch.”

  She huffs but listens. “So tell me everything. Every single thing.”

  She’s a dog with a bone and won’t stop so I tell her about meeting him in the hall on Friday and stopping by his place on Sunday. I don’t like lying, or hiding information, so there isn’t much I say just that we hung out for a little bit and talked.

  She squeals with glee, insists he’s interested in me, and I don’t know how she gathers that since I didn’t tell Maggie anything about what he actually said to me.

  By the time I enter my building later, my carryout dinner from Chipotle I stopped and grabbed on the way in my hand, I’m halfway through talking myself out of stopping by his place.

  And the reasons why I should stay away are fleeting.

  The elevator doors start to close and then a hand is right there, stopping them. To my surprise, Hannah scoots around the corner, two kids in tow, and Byron follows.

  “Paisley!” She smiles but it falls relatively quickly. Perhaps because I’m the unknown who might try to make a few bucks selling what I know of Mikah to some asshole on Twitter. As if. “How are you? Having a good week?”

  “Um. Yes. It’s okay. How are y’all?”

  She grins down at her kids, placing a hand on the top of each one, a boy and a girl. “Crazy as always. These are my hooligans, Silas and Samantha, but we call her Sammy.”

  “Hey guys.” Two little blond-haired, blue-eyed beauties grin shyly up at me before looking to their dad.

  “Dad! I want to hold the baby,” Sammy shouts.

  “No! I get to. I’m older.” Silas makes an angry face and throws his arms across his chest.

  “Wait your turn or you won’t get to hold him at all. You know your mom will hog him all night.”

  I’m smiling at their conversation and Hannah shrugs. “What can I say? Babies just do something to me.”