“Don’t mention it.” I winked, “But if you’re offering payback?—”
“Zamboni.” She warned, cutting me off with a lethal stare that cracked a little at the end with a soft smile. “But good try.”
The bar calmeddown after the last game got over at the other rink, and I could walk away for a minute to check on the guys. I didn’t need to check on the kids; I knew they were undoubtedly being minions, but I needed to check that the guys were still alright.
I half expected them to be tied up in the corner while Emmie and Toby terrorized them.
Instead, I found Emmie in the goal at the far end of the ice, working on stick work with Crasher’s goalie, Trace. Travis skated around the crease, sending pucks at my daughter, who wasn’t wearing her hockey gear, but avoided any impact thanks to his strategic aim.
He was in his hockey gear, and dammit—my mouth watered. Like usual. His black hockey pants sat on his hips, and then the tight athletic shirt he wore was cut off at the sleeves, baring his massive biceps and tattoos to my stupidly depraved eyes. Travis was just so dang big, he defied logic, and my body couldn’t help but wonder if all of him was large.
I hoped to the shiny sun goddess above that he was, because a man like that deserved to have a big dick.
Not that I’d ever see it, but that didn’t stop a girl from fantasizing.
In another life, Travis was exactly the kind of man I could see myself with. Strong. Reliant. Protective. Dominant. All the things that made the girly parts inside of me go sweet. But those parts of me never saw the light of day anymore, life had dulled them out and hardened around them.
Now, I didn’t go for men at all, thanks to self-celibacy and a downright refusal to trust again, they kept me on the outside looking in. Which was fine, since I was too busy to want anything for myself anyway.
But in moments like that, watching him care for my daughter and help her, I could almost stop moving long enough to wonder.
“Mom!” Toby rushed over to me, climbing up the bleachers in his uncoordinated fury. “Can I have an empty jar?”
“A what?” I asked, pushing his dark brown hair back off his forehead. “What is all over your face?” I rubbed my thumb over the brown smear up the side of his cheek. “Is this poop or chocolate?”
“Chocolate.” He replied instantly. “Coach Sunshine got me a hockey puck made of chocolate out of the vending machine!”
Because of course Elliot gave my kid sugar.
“Jesus.” I muttered, “Where’s the rest of it?”
He blinked up at me for half a beat and then pointed at his stomach. “Right here.”
“You ate it all?” I hissed, counting the minutes until he no doubt puked it all back up. His stomach was weaker than my sense of humor after eight pm.
“So, the jar?” he asked again, hopping from foot to foot. “Can I go get one?”
“What do you—” I stopped myself and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “You know what, I don’t even want to know what for. There’s a plastic one behind the bar, have at it.”
“Sweet!” He jumped up and then took off toward the jar he no doubt planned to put something incredibly gross into.
Elliot skated over to the open boards, and I had to focus on getting down the stairs in one piece without falling on my face, because he was shirtless and covered in a delicious layer of sweat that made me wonder what his abs would feel like pressed against my bare breasts with him on top of me. “Hey Boss.” He winked. “Come to steal the gremlins from us already?”
Get a grip, girl.
Elliot was insanely ripped; his washboard abs and defined pecs made my mouth water like a dying man in the Sahara staring at an oasis mirage. He looked so good, but I knew he wasn’t real—remember I had a depraved mind, after all.
Snorting as I got to the bottom step. “I would have thought you’d be begging for reprieve by now.”
He scoffed and grinned, “Not me, no way. I’m having a fucking blast.”
My heart pitter-pattered a little at the genuine joy on his lit-up face. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” His smile dropped a bit. “Why?”
I shrugged, hating the guilt I felt at expecting everyone to hate being around my kids like that. “Never mind.”
“Hey,” He dropped his smile completely and pulled me to the boards by my wrist. Even being a step above him, he still towered over me in his skates. Tipping my head back to look up at him, I was instantly reminded how good it felt to feel small next to a strong man. In a feminine way. “What’s wrong?”
