Page 15 of Mother Pucker
She gives me a pointed look. “Which is why playing so quickly after an injury isn’t recommended. Plus, you’ll have the team doctor there.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promise her. “I won’t get back on the ice until our first season game at home mid-next week. But I’d like you at the away games at the end of the week.”
She purses her lips, but I can see she’s at least considering my offer.
My thumb runs along the inside of her wrist, and I look at the tattoo inked there–a blue cancer ribbon. My gaze snags on it, not able to disconnect. Is she a cancer survivor or perhaps it was someone from her family?
Shay follows my gaze to the place my hand is still holding her tiny wrist, before clearing her throat. “My husband.”
I drop her wrist as if I’ve touched a hot stove.What the fuck?I thought . . . I thought . . .
She smiles sadly, reading my thoughts. “He lost his battle to cancer and died three years ago.”
And suddenly, there’s a hazy gloom over the back-and-forth banter and tension between us. How could I have been so stupid to have not considered that the woman had her own past . . . her own story? I was solely focused on my assumptions.
“Wow. I’m sorry, Shay.” My frown deepens. “I should have asked if–”
“What?” She lets out a soft, mirthless chuckle. “If I was a widow? If I had any children? If I was even ready to move on?” She pulls the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “How could you have known?”
She turns to exit the room when I find my voice again, finally processing her words. “I’d like to know.”
What in the world? When have I ever cared to know more about a woman since Audrey? When have I ever pushed–begged–for another moment with anyone since?
I decided all those years ago that I was going to focus on me and my career. Nothing else would get in the way because no one was worth the time, the heartache. Because at the end of the day, anyone you let get too close could, and would, have the ability to rip your chest open, too.
Up until this moment, I was true to that path . . .
She turns around, her suspicious gaze taking me in. “What?”
“I’d like to know . . .” I take another step forward because the distance between us doesn’t settle well for me. “Do you have any kids?”
Her gaze bounces between my eyes, as if she’s trying to pick apart a puzzle. The woman is guarded as all hell, and it’s goingto take everything I’ve got to pierce the iron shield she stands behind.
“I have a little boy named Kai.” A tender smile lifts the corners of her mouth and fuck, it’s so incredibly beautiful. “He just turned nine.”
I stay quiet, giving her the space to continue.
“You’re his favorite hockey player, actually. He even named one of the raccoon babies inside our chimney, Slick. You were my husband’s favorite, too . . .”
She trails off, not finishing her thought, and I take that as my cue to erase the gap between us. I have no clue what she means about raccoons in her chimney–is that some strange metaphor for something?–but I pull her hand down, holding it in mine. “I’m honored to be.”
She stares up at me, not saying a word.
“And . . .”Fuck, what am I doing?I honestly don’t know, but I can’t seem to stop, either. “What about your last question?Areyou ready to move on?”
Her eyes drop to my lips, and if I thought it was the right time, I’d kiss her. It’s the only thing I want to do at this very moment, but the one thing I know will have her bolting out of here like her beautiful ass was on fire.
That she even showed up at my place today with the stunt I pulled sending her that dildo is shocking enough; the last thing I want is to push my luck any further.
She quickly untangles herself from my hold. “I’m sorry, I should–”
“Don’t go.” I hear myself say. “I’ll work with whatever amount of time you give me.”
“Rowan–”
“If you really don’t want to come along for the games in California, I understand . . . but maybe just think about it?”
A smile graces her lips. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
