"Like she's allergic or something?"
"I don't know. I'm calling her pediatrician when they open in an hour."
"Sorry, man. That's rough."
"My point is that I can't bring Mollie into this mess, especially not if Rosie keeps waking up and screaming at all hours of the night."
"...right." I squeeze my eyes closed. "What do you want Mollie to do if she can't get back into her apartment for a few days?"
"Can she stay with you? Not forever, but long enough to figure out if she's lost anything?"
"Of course." My chest tightens at the idea of Mollie staying here, no matter how short the stay. "Until we can organize?—"
I'm cut off by a loud wail on Beck's end.
"Shit. Text me?" he implores.
"Yep."
He hangs up and leaves me in the darkness of my bedroom. I drop the phone on the bed and lie back again.
Fuuuuuuuuuck.This is getting complicated, fast. And I haven't even heard a peep from Mollie yet.
Mollie. Who is here in my house after asking me to take her virginity last night.
Does she need to see a shrink? Why in the world would she choose me, with my reputation and the nearly ten-year age gap between us, to be the one to take her v-card? It's a fucking bad idea for a million reasons. But why would she even think about it in the first place?
Maybe she was just that drunk. Is there a number of drinks I could have that would cause me to make terrible decisions? I think so, but I'd be close to passing out by then.
Since today is a rest day, I hit the in-house gym and sauna before taking the world's longest cold shower. By 8:30, I'm standing in the kitchen making a huge pile of scrambled eggs, sautéed onions, bell peppers, and whole-grain toast with almond butter.I'm using the egg pan to cook down the veggies when Mollie comes down, rumpled and yawning.
And wearing a hoodie with my number on it. I forced it on her last night before leaving her alone in the guest bedroom. My chest tightens when I notice that she’s not wearing anything else but my hoodie.
My woman, looking hot as hell, wearing my number? Oh fuck yeah. She’s every hockey player’s wet dream.
“Morning,” she mumbles. There are dark circles under her eyes that indicate that she didn’t sleep much. She's not much of a morning person. Her bedhead is as epic as her eyes are exhausted.
"Morning. Hungover?" I ask.
She puts her finger to her lips. "Shh. Too loud."
My lips curl at the corners. Getting shushed in the morning is definitely not part of my routine. I pull a mug out and pour her coffee from my fancy coffeemaker, then set it down on the island. She gives me a grumpy look as she eases into a seat and takes a sip.
"Got any milk and sugar?"
“I have some unsweetened almond milk and honey." I point to the fridge and the pantry. "You can serve yourself."
Her lip curls but she pushes out of her seat and pads to the fridge. "My landlord called. She said that my apartment is untouched, but the building is unlivable. And she said something about the sprinklers."
"That's better news than I thought you'd get. Have you... talked to your brother?"
She stirs in a teaspoon of honey, tastes her coffee, then pulls a face. "Still gross. And no. My landlord woke me up."
"Do you want some eggs and toast?" I ask.
She looks a little guilty. "I'm starving."
"So that's a yes?" I arch a brow.
