Scoring Off The Ice: Ice Kings, #2 Page 10

“I’d love to. I’ll show you all the cute places in the burbs.”

  “As long as it includes a stop at the ice cream place you mentioned you have a deal.”

  We talked quite a bit about all the second-hand vintage boutiques, and she claims there’s a small town near her with an adorable downtown area that has three vintage markets she adores. Bonus, one of them is right next to what she swears is the best ice cream parlor she’s ever been to.

  I can’t wait. I have no plans to redecorate my uncle’s place so I’m in no position to do purchasing, but I love getting ideas and gathering small items that help make his place feel more like my home.

  “Shopping?” Mikah asks as we round the couch.

  I wave and say goodbye to the others who still linger. Jason, one of the brothers I think, tips his chin and lifts his beer. I swear he winks at Mikah as we pass him.

  We’re at his door, his hand still holding mine when I answer his question. “Katie suggested a place near her she wants us to check out someday and I told her about other stores near Uptown. I said I’d help her with their house.”

  From what I learned, they became engaged earlier this summer, but Katie moved in with Jude last Christmas. She’s been slowly making the home he owns south of Charlotte into theirs, and it sounds like a big job. Partly because the home sounds enormous. Partly because according to her, Jude had nothing but couches and televisions and a couple of beds, so she’s working with a blank canvas.

  “So you like her.”

  “She’s sweet.”

  He opens the door and then we’re in the hallway where it’s quiet and it’s only a few steps to my own apartment. My keys are in my hand, my phone in my back pocket. I don’t exactly need his help getting home, but I’m reluctant to let go of his hand.

  I like this guy. It’s more than his looks or the fact he has a baby. If anything, that’s still scaring the crap out of me. But Mikah is pretty irresistible and he has such great friends. None of them come across as millionaires or guys who are cocky and arrogant due to their success.

  They’re people. Sexy, loud, people.

  I jiggle the keys in my hand. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

  In answer, Mikah squeezes my hand harder and takes the dozen steps to my door. Before I can put the key in my lock, Mikah has my keys in his hand and he’s doing it for me.

  “Mikah—”

  He grins at me, and then he’s pushing open my door, pulling me in behind him like I’m entering his home and not mine.

  “I’m glad you came over tonight. I’m happy you met my friends.”

  He tugs me toward him and there’s a breath of space between us. It swirls with heat and anticipation and please dear Jesus, do not let me be misinterpreting this.

  “I like you in my home,” he says and his voice is deeper. Smoky with an edge to it.

  I swallow the bundle of nerves growing in my throat. “What’s… what’s going on?”

  “I like you, Paisley.”

  My jaw unhinges. I’m not expecting it and before I fully process what he’s said, his hand is at my jaw, thumb brushing along my cheek, his rich blue eyes so intense and stealing anything thought I have.

  I dig deep, find the remains of my voice. “I like you too, but—”

  “No buts. Nothing good comes after a but.”

  And then his mouth lowers, dances across mine in the softest brush. It’s all I need before I forget my issues with him. The negatives of me falling for a guy like him.

  “Oh,” I breathe out on a whisper as a shiver rolls through me. His lips are warm. Soft. Gentle.

  He tastes like the smallest hint of beer and the lingering woodsy scent of his cologne.

  He kisses me again, and this time, I don’t hesitate. I lean toward him, press my hand to his side and hold on for dear life as he deepens the kiss, slips his tongue over mine and then into my mouth.

  And oh sweet goodness, he can kiss.

  I’m lost in it, the warmth of his body, the strength of him. I can tell he’s holding back, but I imagine what will happen when he loses that control. How much power he possesses in his tall and muscular but still lean frame.

  “Oh,” I gasp against him and take what he’s giving me, falling into him as he steps toward me until my back is at my door. My whole body is alive.

  With a kiss. A tame one, at that.

  He pulls back slowly, ending the kiss. With his hand now at my hip and his other at my jaw, he tilts my chin up. He’s so much taller than me. His blue eyes have deepened and his blond hair is messed.

  I want to dig my fingers in it and muss it up more.

  “I want to see you. Alone. And soon.”

  I blink at him. Once. Twice. “A date?”

  “Yes.”

  “But… you have Angelo.”

  “Then we spend time together when he’s sleeping. Or I have the nanny come over.”

  “Mikah…” He has so much to deal with. “I’m not sure now’s the time.”

  “I will figure it out.”

  He kisses me again, firm, hard, and I barely remember him telling me Angelo’s mom is the only woman he’s been with. He certainly doesn’t have an inexperienced feel to him. He’s confident. So certain of his decisions.

  I’m not there.

  “We’ll talk,” I say instead. Because inside I want to scream yes, but my ridiculous conscience is warning me to slow down.

  He just found out he’s a father, for goodness’ sake.

  “We will.”

  He reaches around me and grins as I stumble away from him. As he steps through the doorway, I hold the door open and he drops another sweet kiss to my cheek that shoots a flame of heat down to my core.

  A cheek kiss. What is wrong with me?

  “Goodnight, Paisley. Sleep well,” he murmurs as he pulls away.

  I stay in the doorway as he heads back to his place. And dang… he looks good walking away.

  “’Night, Mikah,” I say.

  He lifts his hand, opens his door, and a rumbling, loud echo of his teammates shouting, “Let’s Go!” bursts through the doorway.

  He blushes and shakes his head, grin stretches ear-to-ear. “Goodnight. Again.”

  “Bye.” I go back to my condo, doing the exact same.

  Yeah, Mikah is dangerous.

  In more ways than one.

  “You kissed him?”

  “Shh.” I reach for Maggie with my hand outstretched to cover her mouth. I made the mistake of mentioning I saw Mikah again last night with some of his teammates and the girl lost her mind, peppering me for every single detail and because I can’t get the kiss out of my head.

  Hours later, I woke up to thinking about it, showered and got ready for school thinking about it, when she asked, I couldn’t lie.

  She really has to be quiet before Ms. Felarky overhears and scolds us for not getting to work.

  Like I’ve been able to work or focus on anything all day. I spent the morning doing my TA office hours and I’m not sure I helped a single undergrad who came in for help with their senior student planning projects. The elementary school majors need to focus on lesson plans, filling out an entire school year of tests and projects and the timing before they can do their student teaching and graduate. I’m still not sure if I listened to anything they said or just approved it because my head’s in the clouds.

  And working on that paper Maggie and I are supposed to be doing? Not happening.

  My mind is clouded with the memories of a sexy, single dad hockey player who kisses like he has more experience than he’s alluded to.

  If he’s that good at kissing… what else does he excel at?

  The part of me that’s been neglected since earlier this summer is aching to find out.

  “I mean it,” she says, voice full of glee and body bouncing like she’s on a pogo stick. “He’s a professional athlete, Paisley. And do you know how much money he makes? The guy is loaded and young and has his entire career ahead of him. It’s crazy.”
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  “You… you know how much money he makes?”

  “Well yeah, that’s all public information. A quick Google search and Wikipedia page will tell you everything.”

  My eyes almost bug out of my head. “And you looked into him?”

  It feels… wrong.

  Maggie opens her mouth, but I don’t want to know. “Don’t. Don’t tell me. If anything happens with us, I want it to come from him.”

  “But—”

  “No.” My fingertips are burning to do my own looking. Yeah, I’ve scanned pictures of him. But his salary? That’s crossing a line and despite being curious, because how much do hockey players actually make… a slimy, icky, feeling slides through me.

  No. I won’t check that out. I know enough to know the condo he lives in cost almost a million dollars if it was priced near Trent’s when he purchased it. That’s enough to give me a clue as to how successful he is.

  “Paisley—”

  “No. I can’t.”

  She huffs back in her chair and pouts. “Fine. But we’re going out for drinks tonight and you’re not getting out of it.”

  “You’re not coming to my place to stalk him.” I’m already guilty of doing the same. He doesn’t need my friends drooling over him, too.

  “Well, no. But we can stop by and say hi?”

  “You’re incorrigible.” Fortunately for her, I’ve already texted my friend Pippa and said I needed advice. “But Pippa and I are having dinner and drinks tonight at Nuvolé 22 if you want to join us.”

  Nuvolé 22 is one of my favorite rooftop bars in the area. Bonus for me, it’s within walking distance from my place. Plus, since it’s over twenty stories high, there’s usually a nice breeze so even though it’s scorching hot outside, by the time the sun falls later, it should be a great night.

  Plus, once I texted Pippa this morning declaring I’m having boy issues, she demanded a girl’s night to discuss.

  Not that I’m complaining.

  My head is completely twisted up with hockey players and babies, plus there’s the not so difficult reality of what that means for me with my family.

  Outside of utter and complete disappointment.

  Sigh.

  “We’re meeting at seven-thirty,” I tell Maggie.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Now let’s get to work.”

  “Right, like I’ll be able to concentrate now.”

  You and me both, sweetheart. I spin my chair back toward my desk and awaken my laptop screen. “Try your hardest.”

  Surprisingly, I spend the rest of the afternoon diving into research articles, getting lost in the fascination of the science behind the disabilities I’m studying and how it relates to how students with them can learn most effectively.

  By the time I get back to my condo, I’m regretting texting Pippa and telling Maggie anything.

  I’m exhausted. For a moment I consider texting the girls and having them come here instead.

  But… the food.

  I have yet to go grocery shopping and replenish my freezer selection meals.

  I’m still unpacking my work bag and my lunch tote when a knock comes from my door.

  Frowning, I head toward it and as I peek out the peephole, a spike of adrenaline and excitement races through me.

  I open the door and Mikah is there, one hand on the doorframe, head peering down at me. He looks as tired as I feel.

  “Hey—”

  I barely get it all out before his hands are at my cheeks, and his lips are on mine.

  He’s kissing me and oh sweet Jesus, it’s as beautiful as I remember. Possibly more. Because he’s said nothing but stopped over to kiss me and well, holy goodness gracious.

  He pulls back abruptly, and I have to stop myself from falling into him. “I’ve thought about nothing but that all day and had to see if it’s as good as I thought it was last night.”

  “Better, I think,” I say without thinking.

  I’m rewarded with a dazzling smile and humor in his eyes. It’s possible he gets better looking every time I see him.

  “Come have dinner with me?”

  If it leads to more kisses like that? Yes. I’m about ready to speak when I remember. “I can’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “I want to.” I reach for him. My hand curls around his bicep and wowzers. He’s so built, it’s crazy. “I have plans with some friends tonight.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  This feels suddenly like it’s moving so fast. It’s still not been a week since the first time I talked to him. And there’s so much involved in this guy.

  Still… those kisses.

  “Tomorrow,” I agree and am rewarded with another smile. He’s so much more confident. Perhaps he always is. Perhaps it’s Angelo that makes him uncertain but even with that, he seems to be rocking it. And speaking of… “Where’s Angelo?”

  Mikah unclips the monitor at his belt I didn’t notice before and holds it up. “Sleeping. I’ve been reading the book Hannah gave me. I’m working on the schedules it mentions. He seems to like it. Or, well, he sleeps better at night anyway. Six hours last night.”

  He says it with pride in his tone and a smile on his face. I’m pleased for him. “Good. That’s good.”

  “Okay. I will let you get ready and go. But there’s one more thing I want from you?”

  I assume it’s a kiss, which I’m more than willing to help him with, so I’m surprised when he pulls out his phone. “I need your number.”

  Need.

  Not want.

  Not asking.

  Yeah, I have a feeling I’m only beginning to understand Mikah and how confident he can truly be.

  It’s such a turn on. I type it in and send myself a text so I have his number, too.

  As I hand the phone back to Mikah, he wraps his hand around my wrist, lowers his head and then he’s kissing me again and it’s so good, so slow and tempting I think again of canceling girl’s night… but not to stay home alone… but to do something much more… um, physical, with the boy across the hall.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mikah

  * * *

  The nanny service sends Leah.

  She’s young. My age. And she has barely looked at Angelo since she stepped foot into my home.

  As soon as I opened the door, she blushed from her cheeks to her breasts, because she’s wearing a shirt that barely hides them, and breathed my name.

  Yes. It came out in a breath, “Mikah.”

  I wanted to immediately take a shower with the way she raked her gaze over my body. I was holding Angelo, and I don’t think she saw him. I’m not certain she saw me.

  I’m pretty sure she only sees Mikah Lutzgo, the hockey player.

  I have not been nice to her, but the service insisted she’s worked with many families with difficult schedules like mine and is very professional.

  I try to ask her questions, but she dismisses me. Runs her hand along the kitchen countertop and if she’s trying to be sexy while she does it, it doesn’t work.

  My skin itches with the need to get her out of my home but I’m currently on the couch, feeding Angelo. I have worked all week long to get him on a schedule. Sometimes he seems fussy, so I add a couple more ounces. Then he’s happy. Keep him awake for a couple hours, having him sleep for two. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But sleeping for five or six hours at night has been beautiful.

  I’m getting the hang of parenting him. I even gave him a bath myself. Although I think maybe I ended up with more water on me than he did.

  I check the clock again. It’s almost five. Paisley should be home soon. I want Angelo sleeping later so we can spend more time together.

  Kissing.

  On my couch.

  With her beneath me.

  Perhaps with her mouth tasting of sweet white wine like the kind I bought earlier and put in my fridge.

  On the coffee table in front of me are a list of questions Hannah emailed me to ask t
he nannies who come to talk to me.

  “Leah.” I call her name because she’s still in my kitchen. I am certain she is imagining me screwing her on the countertop with the way she looks at it and then me. I might not have experience with women, but I have been hit on plenty. The look in her eyes makes my skin crawl.

  Like I am the prey.

  Please. That’s ridiculous. Young and inexperienced does not equal naive and stupid.

  “Yes, Mikah.” She’s breathing my name again. It’s weird. I’m not sure I’ve heard her real voice.

  Since I can’t kick her out until Angelo is done feeding and burped because I’ve learned when he’s interrupted from either he gets cranky, I am stuck with her.

  I might as well practice the questions.

  “Tell me your typical day with a baby. Do you leave the house? Find activities to do with them?”

  “Oh yes,” she says and for a moment, she looks happy. “But mostly I enjoy preparing delicious meals for you… or the families I work for… to come home and enjoy.”

  I don’t need a cook.

  “With Angelo,” I say. Leah will definitely not be my nanny. “What will you do with him? Go for walks?”

  “Oh, sure. We can do that. I like being outside and staying active.”

  She pushes out her hip and drifts her hand down the length of her body. She is pretty. With big breasts and a small waist.

  Paisley is prettier. And doesn’t wear the face of someone willing to drop their knees if asked.

  As if thinking of her conjures her, my phone buzzes next to me and her name pops up on the screen.

  “Excuse me,” I say to Leah. Her face is pinched up. Possibly mad I haven’t hit on her yet. I have no plans to. She needs to go. “I need to answer this.”

  I open her text and smile. Yes.

  Paisley: Are we still on for tonight?

  Yes. Absolutely. We can get to that later.

  I grab my phone and send her a text, amazed I’ve been able to figure out how to do all this with only one hand.

  Me: Interviewing a nanny and she’s giving me crazy eyes. Come help.

  I’m not sure if that will get her running, but I left the door unlocked. As soon as Leah stepped inside earlier and looked at me, I didn’t want us locked in together. It feels weird having another woman in my home.