Page 11 of Defensive Daddy


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ant to come on too strong, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I could step away from her now and risk her thinking I’d second-guessed myself.

When her words came, though, they weren’t the ones I’d hoped for. “Your turn,” she said, sounding breathless. “What’s your story, Cooper? Because men like you aren’t exactly a dime a dozen.”

“Men like me?” I quirked a brow.

She lifted her wine glass between us and took a long drink, forcing me to distance myself from her a bit. “Men like you,” she confirmed. “Highly attractive, domestic gods with a professional hockey career and their head on straight.”

“Domestic god?” I bit my lip. “Shit, Samantha, I’m going to need you to say that more often, because it’s kind of stroking my ego,” I laughed. “Hell, maybe I should get you to call my mother, too, and tell her what you just said. I think she’d be proud.”

She laughed. “You don’t think she’s proud enough that you’re one of the most sought after hockey players in the NHL?”

“Thought you didn’t watch hockey?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Google knows everything.” Samantha slid from between me and the countertop, chuckling, and I followed her into the living room. As she took a seat on the beige leather sofa, she said, “You’re stalling, Cooper. Which tells me there’s a story there somewhere. What’s the deal?”

I contemplated glossing over the details, or even giving a vague answer, focusing on the subject of hockey, but Samantha had been upfront and honest with me. It was only right I offered her the same. “You’re not the only one who’s been burned,” I admitted, taking a seat beside her. “I’d been with Zoey for two years. We lived together.” I pointed toward the wall, indicating that we’d both lived in the apartment beyond it. “I thought we were on the same page, that we were happy with what we had together.” I lifted my gaze to Samantha, a sad smile on my lips. “I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Samantha said softly, staring down at her hands. “She left because she wasn’t content?”

“If there were signs she wasn’t happy up until that point, I missed them.” I shrugged and tried to keep my voice light, but I’d rarely spoken about my breakup with Zoey since it happened more than five months ago, and it still wasn’t easy to now. “But, there really isn’t any other way to interpret a rejected marriage proposal after our son was born, now is there?”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “You proposed after your son was born, and she ended the relationship instead?”

“Well, when you put it like that...” I pretended to mull it over. “Yeah, that’s exactly what she did.”

“What a cruel thing to do.”

“Always the politically correct one, huh?” I teased, nudging her knee with mine. “I prefer to say it was a bitch move, but who am I to judge?”

“Judge away,” Samantha replied with a smirk. “Sounds like you’ve earned the right.” She paused to take another sip of wine. “I guess I just don’t get it.”

I leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath. “Get what?”

Straight faced, Samantha lowered her glass. “Not wanting to be with a superhero. I mean, really?” Then, she winked.

I’m telling you, it took everything I had not to kiss the hell out of her right then and there.

Instead, I scoffed. “I know, right? I mean, and I’m a highly attractive domestic god to boot.” I held up my hands in surrender. “Your words, not mine.”

“I’m not going to live that one down, am I?”

“Not any time soon, pretty lady. I liked the way it sounded way too much.”

She held the glass to her lips, staring at me in silence over the rim of it, then took another drink. “I kind of like the way that sounded, too.”

“What?”

“You calling me pretty,” she explained, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

I leaned forward a bit, a devilish smile on my face. “I told you before, Samantha, I just call it like I see it.”

The pink tinge deepened quickly into a fiery crimson.

I watched her a moment longer, relishing in the reaction I’d caused, then sat up straight. “I should probably go,” I sighed. “You must be exhausted.”

Samantha looked suddenly alarmed, and I knew what she must be thinking—that she’d said or done something to turn me away.

It was easy to recognize blatant insecurity when you harbored it yourself. Anyone who’d ever been hurt by someone knew that kind of doubt.

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