“M-Mr. Wilson? What are you doing with Mr. Carlisle’s daughter?” Gibson stutters out the question and my hackles rise on high alert.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “How do you know my name?”
“I think I’d be remiss if I didn’t know the star player and newly appointed captain of my boss’s team.”
My blood turns to ice as the realization sinks in.
Mr. Carlisle. As in Mr. Charles Carlisle. As in the owner of the Minnesota Wolverines. Also known as the guy who signs my fucking paychecks.
Fuck.Fuck.
“The Whitley Hotel,” I grind out.
“I’ll be there right away, Mr. Wilson. Please let Miss Carlisle know I will be there in ten minutes,” Gibson says before the call disconnects.
Miss Carlisle.Miss. Fucking. Carlisle?
I stand frozen on the spot, the phone still at my ear, when I feel a pair of arms snake around my waist and she presses her lips between my shoulder blades.
“What did he want?” she asks. When I don’t answer, she says, “Now that you mentioned food, I realize I’m starving. Where would you like to eat?”
She unclasps her hands and walks around to face me. Her brows crease in confusion when she takes in whatever look is on my face. “What’s the matter?” she asks.
Tossing the phone onto the bed, I turn my back on her and run my fingers through my hair. “You know, for a second there you actually had me believing in fate—that the two of us meeting again was kismet. But nothing about our meeting was by happenstance, was it,Miss Carlisle?”
“What are you talking about, Bennett? Why are you saying my name like that?”
“I can’t believe this,” I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief as I turn to face her.
No one can ever want me for who I am. How could they when I hardly know myself? Because who am I outside of the serious hockey captain?
I clearly don’t know the answer to that, but Scarlett fucking Carlisle sure as shit isn’t going to be the one to find out.
“Gibson will be here to pick you up in ten minutes, Miss Carlisle. I had a good evening with you, but I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”
“Ben—”
“Was this all a game to you? Was I some pawn you thought you could use to your advantage? Were you mad at your daddy and needed to lash out? Whatever your reasoning, the show’s over.”
Her head shoots back as if she’s been hit. “Will you tell me what the hell you’re talking about? Why are you talking about my father right now?” she asks, running her fingers through her hair in exasperation.
I’ll give it to her, she actually manages to look genuinely confused. The girl must’ve been an actress in another life—hell, maybe she’s one now.
Shaking my head, I let out a grunt of frustration. “I’ll tell him I had a temporary lapse in judgment, I mean, it was an honest mistake. I had no idea who you were. But that wasn’t the case for you, was it?”
Without giving her a chance to respond, I toss on a shirt and slide my shoes on before grabbing my phone and wallet off the dresser. “Please see yourself out, Miss Carlisle,” I tell her before slamming the hotel room’s door behind me.
I’ve never been known to lose my head over a woman before, so why the fuck did I think now was a good time to start?
1
August
Present
“Fuck!” I hiss under my breath after stepping on my second Hot Wheels car of the morning.
“You said another naughty! That’s a quarter in the swear jar,” Gunner squeals, holding his hand out as if to saypay up. His hazel eyes stare up at me, and I can’t find it in me to be mad at the little guy who has stolen my heart.
