Unexpected Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance Page 2

  At this point, that’s all I need.

  You’re doing it again, I silently chastise myself. Judging the situation before you’ve even given it a shot.

  A scoff of anger at my own criticism topples from my lips just as a loud series of raps on the driver’s side window scares the ever-loving daylights out of me, making me flinch enough to almost lift me off the seat.

  I look up into the darkest chocolate-colored eyes I’ve ever seen, rimmed with black lashes so thick they would make any woman envious.

  But the eyes don’t belong to a woman. In fact, they don’t belong to someone with any semblance of femininity at all. Instead, the man with the sexy eyes is the blatant definition of masculinity with his chiseled features and plain black t-shirt stretched over muscular, broad shoulders, exuding enough testosterone and manliness that I’m convinced he could melt the glass window between us with the heat that radiates off him.

  I’m still gawking at him in awe when he holds up his hands in askance. He doesn’t say it aloud, but his arched eyebrow and hand gestures say it for him. Are you going to open the door or roll down the window?

  In the city, I probably wouldn’t, but I doubt Cardon Springs has its own resident serial killer so I take my chances and open up the car door. You know, once my hormones stop taking over every synapse firing in my brain, allowing me to think of something other than what this man’s angular jaw must be like to touch.

  “Hi,” I say, trying to be polite. “I already called someone to help me out. They’re on their way.”

  “I know. Your aunt called me,” he explains in a voice that’s low and gritty. “Looks like I’m that someone you’re waiting for.”

  I don’t know why, but a rush of heat creeps into my cheeks at that, flustering me even more. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to that. My body is screaming, Yeah, Mister, I’ll bet you are, and my mind still hasn’t gotten past the sexy huskiness of his voice or the dark eyes that look through me, not at me.

  Through me, not at me. My brain finally catches up a beat later, and I realize just how right I am. Because he’s not looking at me the same way I’m taking him in at all. In fact, this man is barely meeting my gaze now that he’s managed to get me to open the car door. The realization deflates me slightly.

  “I’m Craig,” he continues when I haven’t spoken out loud. “I own the repair shop here in Cardon Springs. Nancy called and said your car wouldn’t start, wanted me to take a look. When she mentioned she was just on the way to pick you up, I told her I could drive you home so she didn’t have to come out.”

  The city girl in me knows damn well I shouldn’t take his story at face value—it’s a typical story for a serial killer. Except that he knows Aunt Nancy. Or says he does. The man is too gorgeous to be a serial killer. Maybe.

  “She said she was coming here herself.” Technically, she didn’t say that at all, but I’m not mentally prepared to leave my life in this stranger’s hands without at least questioning something.

  His gaze is fixed on the car I’ve just stepped out of—stupid move if he is a serial killer, I know—and he takes idle steps around the front of it. “Your name’s Megan, right?” he asks, crouching down to check out something near the wheel well, then proceeding to stand up and continue on toward the front of the car, popping the hood. A gust of grayish smoke rolls out from under it. “Nancy’s been going on about you for years. I think just about everyone in town knows something about you.”

  That’s embarrassing to think about, but it sounds exactly like my aunt. She loves to gush about me. I’m just a little worried about what topics she has chosen to spread around town. “It sounds like you know Aunt Nancy pretty well.”

  “Hard not to when we’ve lived in the same town pretty much my entire life.”

  I can’t even see his shoulder or head anymore. He’s bent over under the hood of the car. Even from where I’m standing near the driver’s side door, I can see that his worn jeans are slung low on his hips, and he wears a faded leather belt.

  Damn, he’s attractive, I think. Even when I can’t see his face.

  “Funny, she’s never mentioned you,” I say, immediately regretting it once I realize how rude I might seem if it’s misconstrued.

  Craig pokes his head out from under the hood, a faint, crooked grin curving his mouth upward. “Well, I’m not the one who’s Nancy’s cherished genius of a niece, am I?” When he winks at me a moment later, I’m not sure whether to be mortified or flattered.

  “I’m not a genius,” I retort.

  He has already ducked back under the hood. “You’d never know it by the way Nancy talks about you.”

  I reach in and pull my purse from the passenger seat of the car and slam the driver’s side door, giving myself a moment to collect my thoughts. “What else has she told the fine folks of Cardon Springs about me?” I step forward, peeking under the hood, taking the chance to view the way his dark hair is cut short, clipped close to his head, revealing the smooth muscles of his neck at the base of his skull.

  He doesn’t look up from the engine he’s inspecting—or at least I think it’s the engine—but I hear a scoff erupt from his throat. “That you’re overqualified for the job you got at the Chronicle with your degree in journalism, but that she’s pretty much busting at the seams with excitement at having you live with her. Oh...” He glances up, slamming the hood down, his cocky grin still in place. “And that you need a new car.”

  I know he’s trying to be funny, but the falsity of his first comment and the truth of his last one hits home just a bit too much. I do my best to keep a lighthearted expression on my face, but my smile must falter because I see the flash of apology in his eyes.

  “That’s where you come in, Mr. Mechanic,” I chuckle, trying to laugh it off. “You can fix this one, right?”

  His gaze lowers to the car before him, then up to meet mine again. “Let me see what I can do, Megan.”

  “Sounds promising enough,” I tell him. “Were you serious about giving me a ride to Aunt Nancy’s place?”

  “Nah.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I was going to make you walk.” His lips are pressed tightly together to suppress a full-fledged grin, one I know would be sexy as hell if he let it come out. But he doesn’t, instead pointing toward the red pickup truck parked behind my car on the side of the road. “Get in. We don’t want to keep Nancy waiting any longer to see you.”

  As much as I want to see my aunt, and as much as I have been waiting impatiently for that moment when she gives me a warm hug and makes me feel like everything is going to be okay—because that’s what she always does, and that’s what she does best—it occurs to me that I’m a bit disappointed. Every minute closer to being dropped off at Aunt Nancy’s house is one minute closer to not having Craig and his intense eyes and crooked smile in my line of vision.

  “Oh, by the way,” Craig calls out as he heads toward the passenger side of his truck, motioning for me to follow as he opens the door. “Welcome to Cardon Springs, Megan.”

  Chapter Two

  Craig

  In a town like Cardon Springs, it’s hard not to know absolutely everyone who lives here. And seeing as I not only grew up here but also returned after I left college, I know pretty much everything about everyone who was here before I left, and have heard pretty much everything about the ones who have come to reside here after me as well.

  Owning my own business in town helps with keeping tabs on everyone, too. It’s funny how being the one people turn to when they need on oil change on their car or the engine is making a funny noise—I actually get a kick out of the way some customers describe such noises—also makes people want to tell me all the small town gossip while they’re waiting for their vehicle to be ready or using the credit card machine to pay their bill.

  The older people in town tend to still see me as the kid who grew up trick-or-treating at their front doors and riding up and down the streets on my ten-speed bike despite the fact I own my own
house, my own repair shop, and have a kid of my own.

  But Nancy Clayton has never been like that. She’s known me my whole life, just like everyone else, but she’s always treated me with the utmost respect since I came back to Cardon Springs. She sees me as the man I’ve struggled to become, the one who works damn hard to provide a good, solid life for my boy.

  Which is exactly why I’ve been doing favors for Nancy for years, especially since I returned to town, as well as giving her discounts here and there on her car repairs and maintenance. The woman’s practically a saint, and I can’t help but feel bad for her since her husband, Doug, passed away. She’s alone in that big old house.

  Until now. I wasn’t lying to Megan when I said her aunt gushes over her and talks about her all the time. The part I didn’t tell her was that Nancy has been hinting for months that she should acquaint me with her beloved niece, that we’d be such a cute couple.

  Her words, not mine. Also, not anything I’m interested in. There isn’t enough room in my life for anyone but Ellis, and that’s how I prefer it.

  That doesn’t stop Nancy from dropping hints and reminding me about her niece every time I see her in town. The woman’s got a routine; first she asks how Ellis is doing, then she swoops in and mentions how the two of us need a good woman in our lives.

  While I agree that my son deserves a mother figure, I won’t be rushing into anything in order to try to provide him with that. In fact, I tend to hurry off in the opposite direction when it comes to women now, not toward them.

  Funny how someone prefers to avoid relationships after the love of his life breaks up with him and doesn’t tell him about his unborn son until she’s on her deathbed and forced to tell him. I don’t want to be a bitter man, but I still get a bad taste in my mouth when I think about why she would do that to me. Why she would do that to her own son.

  I shake my head to rid myself of the thoughts that plague me. I can’t think about those things right now, not when Nancy’s niece is perched in the passenger seat of my truck and I’m just turning onto her aunt’s street.

  Nancy was right—Megan is beautiful. She’s also wearing her apprehension about being here on her face like makeup. It’s obvious she’s not sure what to think about moving to this town. Or maybe she’s just not sure what to think about me.

  One thing I do know for sure is I was a lot subtler about checking her out than she was as she let her eyes roam.

  I find it amusing, though. The women around town are either only interested in me because they think I have money—owning a business gives that illusion, although they don’t seem to realize that the bank still owns the repair shop until I pay the loan off, which won’t be until I’m about ninety years old—or they won’t come near me with a ten-foot pole, like being a single dad is something contagious.

  It makes me wonder which of those two kinds of women Megan is.

  Seeing Nancy standing in the front window of her house as I pull my truck into the driveway puts a stop to any further contemplation. The wide smile on her face, however, creates a whole new set of thoughts, mostly concerning just how far the woman is about to take this matchmaking bug she’s been bitten by.

  “Meg!” she squeals, hobbling out onto the front porch before I even have a chance to get out of the truck. Megan barrels out of the passenger side, running toward her aunt and enveloping her in a tight hug.

  “Thanks for sending in the reinforcements when I called you,” she chuckles at her aunt. “I thought you meant you were picking me up yourself.”

  “I said I’d sort it out, Meg. And I did,” she advises proudly, her arms still hanging loosely onto her niece like she might get away if she lets go. “Sent the most honest man I could think of to fetch you. The most handsome one, too.” Nancy winks, giving Megan’s arm a squeeze as I step up onto the porch and drop Megan’s purse down by her feet.

  “You do realize I’m standing right here,” I joke.

  Nancy waves her hand dismissively. “Thank you for saving my Meg, Craig. I owe you a big old home-cooked meal.”

  “You make it sound like he slayed the dragon and saved me like some damsel in distress, Aunt Nancy. My car broke down; it didn’t try to eat me.” Megan steals a glance my way, rolling her eyes. The humor alight in them makes my own grin widen.

  “Anytime,” I say, meaning it. Nancy is one of the few people in town I would do just about anything for, so picking up her niece from the side of the road seems like a menial way to help her out. I turn to Megan. “I’ll tow your car to my shop and see what I can do to get it fixed for you, Megan.”

  “I appreciate it,” she says, reaching down for her purse. “How much do I owe you for the—”

  “I haven’t even done anything yet,” I laugh, shrugging. “Don’t worry about the money, since we don’t even know exactly what we’re dealing with. You just look after Nancy for now, and we’ll call it even for the tow call.” I shift my gaze to Nancy, giving her a wink, which delights the woman so much I’m surprised she refrains from clapping her hands together and blushing like mad. At least I know where her niece inherited the immediate blushing response from.

  “You seriously don’t even want a credit card number or something?” Megan looks downright suspicious, frozen in place with her hand in her purse.

  I laugh loudly then, a full, wholehearted sound from my lower diaphragm. “City girls,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Don’t worry, I know where to find you.”

  While Megan might look confused and shocked at my relaxed demeanor, Nancy is almost bursting at the scenes. She’s only hearing what she wants to hear—and what she wants to hear is that I’m telling her pretty niece that I will seek her out.

  “We’ll be in touch,” I add, turning to head back toward my truck, knowing damn well Nancy is vibrating with enthusiasm and nodding her head. “You have a good day, Nancy,” I call out, waving my hand without turning back.

  “You, too, Craig!” she shouts.

  But she shouldn’t be thanking me at all, because I did something selfish. I purposely left Megan’s luggage in the back of her car so I’d have to see her again. I don’t know why I did it, or why I was compelled to even want to in the first place. But Nancy’s niece is going to need her belongings, and since I’m about to go tow her car to my repair shop, she’ll have to go through me to get to them.

  Again, I don’t know why I did it. But the bigger question is on the tip of my tongue, and as I steal a glance back toward Megan, still standing on the front step with her aunt, her crystal blue eyes fixated on me, I ask it to myself.

  I might have made sure I got to see Megan again by not grabbing her luggage, but why was she so interested in me that she didn’t even think of it herself?

  Chapter Three

  Megan

  “You did that on purpose.” I follow Aunt Nancy into the kitchen and can already hear the kettle gearing up to whistle shrilly. She’s always believed that there’s a tea for every occasion, so I’m not surprised to see two mugs set out on the counter, teabags already placed in both of them, ready to be steeped.

  My aunt turns to face me after unplugging the kettle. “Did what?” The devious grin on her face tells me she knows exactly what I’m referring to.

  “Sending the cute mechanic to pick me up instead of driving out there yourself,” I explain.

  “So you do think he’s cute.” She lets out a stifled squeal of excitement, pouring the hot water into the mugs. “Craig’s such a good man, Meg. I’ve told him all about you—”

  “He mentioned that,” I interject, taking one of the mugs in my hands when she offers it to me. “And just what exactly have you been telling him? That I’m a university graduate with no job and more debt than I’ll ever dig myself out of? Or that I’m essentially homeless because I couldn’t bring myself to crawl back home to Mommy and Daddy and ask for help, so my amazing aunt came to the rescue to bail me out?”

  “Oh, Meg.” Aunt Nancy waves her hand like what I’ve just said isn’t
true. But, unfortunately, it is. “You always were so dramatic, dear. You should be proud of your education. And I am hardly bailing you out of anything. I just put in a good word with Harold at the Chronicle, and the rest just kind of fell into place. You’ll get a handle on the debt once you start working. Things will work out, Meg, I promise.”

  “Maybe,” I hiss when the hot liquid burns my top lip as I attempt to take a sip. “But only because of you. Thank you, Aunt Nancy. For talking to the guy at the newspaper, and for letting me stay here until I can get back on feet again.”

  She reaches out and squeezes my arm affectionately. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, dear. The company will be nice.” She leans in to whisper, “And we can talk about boys.”

  Despite my dreary mood from talking about my reasons for being here, I laugh. Leave it to my aunt to think we’re going to stay up late, braid each other’s hair, and giggle about the boys in town. “You mean you’re going to talk about boys, and I get to listen,” I correct her.

  “Well, I’m going to talk about Craig,” she advises with a shrug. “It’s up to you whether you want to see how right I am about the two of you.”

  “What about us?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

  Almost.

  “You’re perfect for each other!” she exclaims, like I’ve missed the most obvious point in the world. “He works hard, does everything he can for his son—”

  “His son?” That makes my eyebrows arch high. “Oh, Aunt Nancy, I don’t need someone in my life with a crazy ex-girlfriend and custody issues.”

  “You’re doing it again,” she chides halfheartedly.

  “What?” Even though I know exactly what she’s referring to.

  “Assuming you know the story before you hear it. Don’t jump to conclusions, Meg, dear. You’ve had a rough time lately, and so has Craig Connelly. You both could use a good friend.” My aunt turns, her mug of tea in her hand, and proceeds to walk out of the kitchen.