Unexpected Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance Page 4

  She stares at me as though she’s trying to read me like a book. After a long pause, she says, “I don’t exchange sexual favors for car repairs.”

  That hint of a smile tugs at her lips again, making me smirk. “Well, shit, Megan. Now I’m going to have to come up with something else to bargain with.” I come around the desk and go to the window, flipping the sign so that it reads Closed. “Now, if you’re done being a smartass, can I take you on the ridiculously short tour of Cardon Springs?”

  “I’m not sure I can handle the anticipation, but lead the way, Craig.”

  Chapter Five

  Megan

  Cardon Springs is much nicer than I remember from when I used to come and visit Aunt Nancy and Uncle Doug as a kid. When I’d initially seen the rain pelting down through the window of the newspaper’s office, I was disappointed, thinking I would have to postpone the tour of this place with my very own personal tour guide.

  Then, I decided that, no, I wasn’t going to do that. I’d laid in bed the night before after staying up chatting with Aunt Nancy and I’d actually been looking forward to seeing the sights with Craig.

  I didn’t know him, but I didn’t have to. Aunt Nancy did, and she liked him, and I have always trusted her impression of others.

  The thing is, I like him, too, despite not really knowing him at all. Then again, maybe I just like the idea of having someone around my age to talk to.

  Not to mention, Craig Connelly is very easy on the eyes.

  So, when I asked Harold at the Chronicle where Connelly’s Auto was, and he chuckled while telling me it was only a hop, skip, and a jump away, pointing in the general direction, I’d headed right over, expecting Craig’s amusing banter and his own intriguing brand of sexiness.

  But I never expected this. The man isn’t only sexy as he stands there in grease-stained jeans and a worn charcoal t-shirt with a motorcycle logo on it, he’s absolutely delectable. There’s a smudge of black across his cheekbone and his hands are filthy, too, but he exudes masculinity. A hardworking man who’s good with his hands.

  He’s had my brain heading straight for the gutter since the moment I walked through the opened garage door, and after he cleaned up and changed his clothes to take me out on my tour, I had a hard time keeping my eyes off him. Craig even offered to drive me around instead of walking so we didn’t have to trudge through the rain, but I figured I’d already gotten soaked on the way here, and perhaps the cool raindrops would lower the temperature of my blood, boiling in my veins.

  Now, we’re both walking down the sidewalk of Main Street, undoubtedly looking like a pair of drowned rats, but I haven’t had this much fun in a while. Craig is right, there isn’t much to show off when it comes to Cardon Springs. The locally owned grocery store and the café are side by side; no franchise businesses here. The post office is in the same building as the gas station with two pumps and a convenience store that is open until nine o’clock every night, and there’s a bank and a diner further down the street.

  Craig is shoulder to shoulder with me as we bounce up the steps of the post office so he can grab his mail, and I steal the opportunity to hide under the eave while he ducks in and retrieves it. When he comes back out with a handful of flyers and envelopes, I’m wringing my hair out, a huge grin on my face.

  “What’s so funny?” Craig asks, running his free hand through his hair.

  “Did I really read that sign right when we walked by the diner?” I reply. “It’s only open until eight o’clock in the evening?”

  He nods. “Yeah, that’s right. What’s so funny about that?”

  “But it’s the only restaurant you’ve got here! What the heck do you guys do when everything shuts down by eight or nine at night?” I laugh.

  Craig purses his lips, failing to suppress the grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth, and gives me a sideways glance. “We don’t need nightclubs and bars to keep ourselves entertained, city girl.” He leans in, letting his tongue run across his bottom lip before he whispers, “I can think of a few ways to spend an evening after everything shuts down, Meg.”

  I gasp as his breath caresses across my cheek, hot and damp. Heat floods my cheeks, and my heart bangs against my ribcage. My body is completely in tune with him, crying out for the promise in his innuendo, to experience fully exactly what he might be referring to. My mind is just as keen, but at least it’s holding on by a thread, keeping me from saying or doing something I might regret later.

  I’ve just about regained my composure when I realize that Craig is still dangerously close, his gaze fixed on my lips, only inches from his. There’s no way he couldn’t have heard me gasp, and judging by how flushed my face is, he knows damn well he’s affecting me.

  “W-we should go,” I whisper suddenly. “You probably need to pick up your son, and I don’t want to keep you.”

  Just like that, the moment is shattered and I can breathe again as he moves away from me. “Right. I’ve actually got another appointment coming in before I’m done for the day, then I can pick up Ellis. But I’ll walk you back to the Chronicle, seeing as it’s on the way to my shop.”

  The awkwardness hangs between us like a veil. I’m not sure what I feel worse about—freaking out because I thought he might kiss me, or mentioning his son in order to do it. “Ellis,” I say softly. “That’s a cool name for your little boy.”

  Craig gives me a halfhearted smile, wiping raindrops out of his eyes. “He’s named after his mama. Her name was Ella.”

  “Was?” The word topples from my lips before I have time to think it through. But Craig answers just as quickly, and I see his throat move in my peripheral vision.

  “She passed away just after having Ellis. She’d been in a car accident.”

  My stomach plummets. Acid rises in my throat, from the guilt of knowing I had initially assumed that he had a crazy ex and a load of personal drama. “I’m so sorry, Craig,” I tell him, meaning it. “I had no idea.”

  “It’s okay, only a few people really do.”

  I can hear the heartbreak in his voice. He cared for Ella a lot. “Aunt Nancy?”

  “She’s a good listener,” he says with a sad smile. “Yeah, Nancy knows.”

  “And she never said anything.” I’m speaking mostly to myself when I say it, but Craig’s hand suddenly encircles my wrist, stopping me in my tracks and bringing me out of my own thoughts.

  “Nancy’s a good listener,” he repeats. “She’s also a good secret keeper. She knows me, and she knows I don’t tell people about my personal life unless I want them to know. Your aunt is a good person, Megan, so don’t be too hard on her for not telling you, okay?”

  There’s something different in the way Craig speaks to me, in the way his fingers are holding me in place with only the slightest pressure. All I can do is nod, too struck by the way he’s staring into my eyes to form sentences.

  “Okay, let’s get you out of the rain.” He releases my wrist and places his hand on the small of my back only long enough to get me walking again. Hands shoved in his pockets, he tries to change the subject. “What’s your story, Megan? From city girl to small town journalist. That’s quite the switch.”

  It feels like a punch in the gut to hear it said that way, so nonchalantly, but it’s also refreshing. Seeing as my parents have been walking on eggshells around me for almost a week, too afraid and uncertain about how I’ll react if they mention it to say anything even remotely reassuring. “Honestly? Things in Dallas were good—great, in fact—until they weren’t. I had a really good job. A dream job for any new journalist. I was damn lucky to get the position straight out of university.”

  “So, what happened?” Craig is stealing glances at me, shifting his gaze from the sidewalk in front of us to me sporadically.

  I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the rain that is still splattering all around me. “It turns out my boss was more interested in what I could do for him than what I could do for the newspaper,” I admit bitterly. “When he
put the moves on me, I turned him down.”

  “Wait.” Craig stops walking, staring at me intently. “He fired you for not wanting to sleep with him?”

  “I was still on a six-month probationary period,” I shrug. “On paper, I was let go because I wasn’t the right fit for the job. But yes, that’s the real reason I lost my job and ended up here. No savings and no desire to move back in with my parents will do that to a person. So, Cardon Springs it is.” I try to muster up a grin, but Craig doesn’t seem to see the humor in anything I’m saying.

  “Probably a good thing I don’t know who he is or have the time to make an impromptu trip to Dallas,” he mutters.

  “Easy, caveman,” I chuckle. “Let’s get back on some solid ground here, shall we? Umm, hockey.” I snap my fingers, the idea coming to me. “Aunt Nancy said you play hockey. That must be fun...and a safe subject to discuss.” I nudge him playfully, finally eliciting a faint smile from him.

  “I still play when I can,” Craig says, nodding. “But not nearly as much as I used to. I thought I was going to be a big NHL star. I had the scholarship and the rumors about draft picks and everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a damn good mechanic, but I was one hell of a hockey player.”

  “Wow, no modesty there at all.”

  He chuckles quietly. “I know what I’m good at, Megan.”

  I blush for the umpteenth time that day. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it and the way he looked at me when he said it. Like he was staring into me, not at me. “So, why are you fixing my crappy car when you should be shooting pucks and winning hockey games and making all the women swoon like crazy?”

  Craig reaches out and wipes away a droplet of rain that I can feel streaking down the side of my face, his footsteps never faltering. “Because things change, and we don’t always know what’s going to happen next, do we?”

  I feel my proverbial foot wedge back into my mouth again, realizing too late that Craig Connelly gave up his dream of being a hockey player in order to be a single dad and give his son everything he needs. “That’s true,” I reply uneasily, letting an uncomfortable silence fall between us again. Jesus, I think. Can I make things any more awkward? “So, you’re obviously one of those guys that makes skating look really easy, huh?”

  Another scoff. “It’s one of those things I’m good at, yeah. You can’t skate?”

  “I’ve only tried a few times, but I swear, I’m like one of those four-year-olds on the ice holding on to the back of a chair, ready to do the splits like Bambi at any moment.”

  He laughs loudly, I’m presuming at the mental image, a sound that dissipates the tension between us. “Well, I guess that settles that, then.”

  “Settles what?”

  “We’re going skating on Wednesday night,” he advises me. “I’ll teach you.”

  “You’re going to teach me how to skate.” It’s not a question. “Why?” I ask, coming up to the front door of the Chronicle office. “Maybe I already have plans,” I add with a smirk.

  “You do,” he grins. “With me. Not only because it’ll be fun to have a reason to don a pair of skates again, but because I’m not going to lie, I’m interested to find out if you’re really flexible enough to do the splits like Bambi. Could be a fun night.”

  The man has the audacity to wink at me.

  I blush, again. Damn him! I open my mouth to retaliate with some kind of witty retort, but he just laughs. “Have a good rest of your afternoon, Megan,” he calls over his shoulder as he makes his way down the sidewalk, heading back toward his repair shop.

  Chapter Six

  Craig

  The repair shop has been a fucking madhouse today. Six appointments, which wouldn’t have been bad if three of them hadn’t turned out to be much more involved than originally planned. It took me all damn day to diagnose the issues, fix what I could, order parts for what I couldn’t, and try desperately to keep every customer happy.

  I’m completely exhausted after today, and not only am I realizing that I might have to suck it up and try to hire some help in the shop, but I’m very much aware that I am beginning to feel much older than my early twenties.

  No matter how tired I am, though, I still manage to smile with the anticipation of taking Megan out to the community arena in Belltown, about fifteen minutes away, to go skating. The notion of getting to lace up my hockey skates is exciting enough, but getting to spend some one-on-one time with Cardon Spring’s newest addition only makes it better.

  Megan is fun, there’s no other way to say it. Obviously, she’s carrying her own baggage, but who isn’t? She’s heard the short version of my sordid story, and she admitted what brought her to this sleepy town, so I feel as though we’ve maybe crossed a line somewhere and actually delved into the realm of being friends.

  Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

  One thing is for sure, however. When I asked my mom if she’d be able to stay with Ellis for a few hours tonight, finally admitting that I was taking Nancy’s niece out to the arena, it’s safe to say my own mother is hoping Megan and I are becoming friends, too. She told me to stay out as long as I wanted, and to have fun. Then, she winked. My own mother winked at me, like she was giving me silent permission to go out and make a move on this girl.

  It was all a bit humiliating.

  But I’ve just pulled up in front of Nancy’s house, and I can see the warm glow of lights on inside. I’ve done my best to clean myself up and not look so much like the mechanic with stained hands and motor oil for cologne that I have been all day. It looks like I’m going to take Mom’s advice and try to have some fun.

  I’m debating whether or not to go inside when the front door opens and Megan steps out onto the front porch. I’m thankful because I know damn well that Nancy’s mind is reeling in the same romantic directions that my mom’s is. Hell, the two older women are probably going to have a gab fest on the phone all fucking evening while we’re gone, planning our futures and naming our future children.

  “You look pretty.” The words fall from my lips without thinking when Megan climbs into the passenger side of my truck. And she does. In her baby blue, fitted cashmere sweater and light-colored jeans with a matching blue toque that allows her straightened locks to peek out from underneath it, she looks absolutely adorable. “You look like a puck bunny,” I smirk.

  Her initial smile falters slightly, and I see her eyes narrow in the glow of the dashboard lights. “I’d say thanks, but I’m not sure what that means.”

  “You don’t know what a puck bunny is?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Well, what are you then, a puck daddy?” she sneers, drawing out the last word.

  I burst out laughing. “I am most definitely not,” I assure her. “Though that’s quite the term you’ve coined. A puck bunny is a woman with more interest in the hockey players than the game itself, Megan. They dress cute to get the players’ attentions.”

  “So, definitely not a compliment. Thanks for that,” she says with pursed lips.

  “I said you look cute!” I laugh. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you didn’t know what a puck bunny was.”

  “Well, do you know what a half-soy nonfat decaf iced vanilla frappaccino is, smart guy?”

  “Yeah, too much damn effort.” I smile widely, winking at her, which earns me a roll of her eyes and something between a scoff and a chuckle.

  “You’re missing the point.”

  “Nah, I get it.” I put the truck in drive, pulling away from the curb. “We’re both from different worlds and know different things because of it. But I’ve got news for you, Megan.”

  “And what’s that?” she asks, jokingly exasperated.

  I steal a quick glance in her direction. “I’m taking you to an arena. You’re about to come crashing into my world. Get ready.”

  ***

  “I’ve got to admit, when you said you couldn’t skate, I figured teaching you was going to be like teaching a young kid, Megan.” I
hold both of her hands, skating backwards while she skates forwards, one foot then the other. “But you’re a natural born skater. Look at you go.”

  “Hardly,” she chuckles, her eyes focused on her feet as she concentrates on keeping her balance and moving them smoothly across the ice. “I’m still resembling that baby deer I mentioned earlier, ready to do the splits at any given moment.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  The truth is, I could have let go of her hands a long time ago. Megan has been around this rink a hundred times; she’s got the hang of how to move and what to do to get herself propelled forward and even skating backward.

  But I like holding her hands. Feeling the softness of her skin under my fingertips, relishing in the way she pretends to need me and my guidance in order to do this. Because we both know she doesn’t. But I think she likes holding my hands, too.

  “Everyone’s leaving,” Megan says, her eyes flitting beyond me toward the exit. I turn and see that she’s right. The other skaters that we’d shared the ice with for the last hour and a half are gliding toward the rink exit, heading toward the locker rooms to unlace their skates and head home.

  “Shit, how the hell is it nine o’clock already?” I laugh, leading her across the ice toward the exit as well. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  Her mouth curls up at the corners. “This has been fun,” she grins. “You’ve obviously been enjoying yourself, too.”

  “Is it that obvious?” I arch a brow.

  “You’ve had a smile plastered on your face since you laced up your skates in the locker room,” she laughs, squeezing my hands tightly. “If you’ve missed being on the ice so much, why haven’t you gotten back into hockey before now?”

  “No time,” I reply honestly. “I can’t be vying for a professional hockey career when Ellis needs me.” The thought has my stomach tightening with the urgency to explain how badly I need to be the best father I can be to him, especially since he doesn’t have a mother to balance the love and affection from both sides.