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Okay, maybe he doesn’t need an advisor. Because that sounded pretty well-adjusted. I look over at Luna again. She’s now talking to her brother’s girlfriend’s other boyfriends—yeah, that’s a long story—and smiling at them, too.
She doesn’t seem like someone who doesn’t know what and how she wants to be.
“How long do you think that will take?” I ask Alexsei.
He shrugs. “Not sure. But I’m not going anywhere.”
“No?” He’s a hotshot and has women throwing themselves at him constantly. He’s really going to wait for one woman?
“Can’t. She’s got me. Even if she doesn’t know it. Even if she thinks she doesn’t want that. Yet.”
Wow. Her siren song might be even stronger than I thought.
And I should probably just avoid her. I already felt a pull in the kitchen over cake. It is really fucking good cake and yes, I can be won over through my stomach—I’m very cliché—but giving Luna a wide berth might be in my best interest. I don’t think I’m ready for Luna McNeill.
“Okay, well, good luck with that.” I clap Alexsei on the shoulder. I should tell him that she really does want him to ask her out. But I don’t.
He chuckles. “Thanks.”
I start to walk away, but turn back after a step. “Hey man.”
“Yeah?”
“What’s ‘cake’ mean? In slang? Sexual slang?” I feel like an idiot.
He grins. “A girl’s ass. Why?”
Jesus. “No reason.”
I am so not ready for Luna McNeill.
CHAPTER 10
Owen
I flip past the pop-up on my phone screen showing the text from Landon Grayson, one of the team’s defensemen. He’s thanking me for teaching him how to snake his bathtub drain to get his girlfriend’s hair out of it. The guy uses way too many emojis, but I appreciate the text.
And I love when the guys come to me with questions and problems.
I should probably pull the whole team together annually to teach them about bathtub drains, though. That’s an important thing to know if you’re going to be having a girl showering at your place regularly, and I teach that to at least four guys a year.
But I can’t text him back right now. I need to find my kid.
I check my phone’s Find Friends app again. Brady’s phone still hasn’t moved from Luna McNeill’s bakery, Books and Buns. But I know the way his mind works. He could have easily left his backpack with the phone tucked in it in a backroom and taken off with Lydia to God knows where. He thinks he’s smarter than me and he’s wrong.
I did every stupid and shady thing possible when I was his age, and I know that his brain is consumed by two things these days—hockey and Lydia. Specifically, sex with Lydia. I’d have to be both an idiot and not a man to not recognize the way they look at each other. Plus, there is a lot of rubbing up on each other. So much rubbing. I’ve even caught him with her in his room, which is against my rules. I understand wanting to get laid.
Hell, I wish I was getting laid, but that’s a whole other issue.
I had a one-track mind at his age, too, which is why he exists in the first place. But the last thing he or Lydia, who is genuinely a nice girl, needs right now is to get pregnant. It’s the last thing I need, too. The thought of being a grandfather at thirty-six makes me grimace.
Yanking open the door to Books and Buns, I step inside. The bakery is warm and cute and smells like a special kind of heaven, but I don’t want to be here. I made an ass out of myself with Luna at Crew’s birthday party. She’s gorgeous and sexy and way out of my league and I think I’m maybe a little afraid of her. Or of the havoc she could wreak in my life, anyway.
I’m the guy who accidentally gets women, not because I have any game. Which maybe isn’t even what you’re supposed to call it these days. Brady always points out my dated slang, or straight up misuse.
I could eat your cake all day.
Jesus. I’m an idiot.
