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“I’m okay. I…” I bite my lip before I finish, “I need your help, actually.”
“Sloan…”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Anton. But… well, I’m having a baby soon. So I need this mess cleaned up. I won’t have my child born into this shit like I was.”
He sighs. “Well, I’ll be damned. S’pose I oughta say congratulations. Your daddy would’ve loved to be there for you.”
I cringe. The last thing I need is to walk downthatmemory lane. “No, Anton, he wouldn’t have. Even if he wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t have brought this baby around him unless he cleaned himself up and stopped gambling.”
“He was a bit of a mess at the end there. We both know that. But, shit, Sloan…”
“I need this, Anton. Help me out?”
There’s a long, crackling silence. He sighs again. I hear what sounds like a lighter striking and the drag of a cigarette. Then:
“Let me talk to the big man. I’ll see what I can do.”
Even though his response isn’t as promising as I’d hoped, my breath of relief is swift, loud. “Thanks, Anton.”
“Congratulations, Sloan. He’d be proud of you. Your daddy was a mess, but he loved you. I know that for sure.”
“Yeah,” I tell him, tears brimming in my eyes. “I just wish that counted for more.”
30
BECK
Goddammit,that voice was so familiar. Why can’t I place it?
I forget faces, I forget names, but I never forget a voice. Of course, this one sounds like a hundred others in my father’s orbit who have smoked for a hundred years and had a few too many whiskeys before breakfast.
But he’s on my list of guys to talk to.Anton. Certainly not a name I’m going to forget.
After breakfast, Sloan goes upstairs to paint some more. I make a quick call and assign my security firm to work up some background checks. I have to know more before I leave anything involving her or our baby to chance.
Then I go grab my keys. I stop by the nursery on the way out the door and rap my knuckles on the wall. Sloan looks up, paint already smeared on her cheek. She’s fucking adorable.
“I have to run out. Quick errand.”
She pouts. “Fine. Will you be back before the game tonight or should I meet you at the arena?”
“I’m not sure.” But if there’s a chance I can get this knocked out before gametime, I’m certain I can find somewhere for us to handle my pregame ‘ritual’ before I go onto the ice.
She nods. “If you’re not here by six, I’ll just meet you there.”
I nod back, but I linger in the doorway.
She’s spattered with paint and wearing baggy overalls, but she’s still so ridiculously beautiful to me. My chest clenches up with that insanely intense desire to keep her safe. I want to give her blank rooms to paint forever. I want to fill one nursery after the next with her.
I want a future with the woman in the overalls and the paint on her cheek.
“What?” she asks when she realizes I’m staring.
“I was just thinking: having sex with a Smurf has never really been a fantasy of mine… but if you want to paint yourself blue, I’m in.”
She grins and blushes. I lean over, loop her in my arms, and kiss her.
It’s not much in terms of kisses. Just a quick brush of my mouth over hers. Or at least, that’s all I mean it to be. But when she curls her fingers in my hair against my scalp, hanging on for dear life, I don’t have any defense.
