Will
“Don’t make any plans for June twenty-ninth.”
I blinked at my teammate, Vince Tanev, as he shot those words my way. We were filing off the plane late Thursday night after managing to squeak out a win against Boston. Despite the win, the plane was eerily quiet — which told me the rest of the guys were just as beat as I was.
“When do I make plans, ever?” I replied.
“Aw, shit,” Jaxson Brittain said, clapping Vince on his shoulders from behind. We filed off the plane and onto the tarmac, a cool rain greeting us — which was a rarity in Florida. Most of our rain came in the summertime in the form of hot, heavy storms. “Did you and Mave finally set a date?”
“Don’t act like my sister didn’t already tell you,” Vince said, shrugging him off.
“You ever going to stop hating me for loving her?”
“Depends. You ever going to stop making out with her in front of me?”
“Probably not.”
I flattened my lips as Jaxson tried to use me as a shield, Vince doing his best to get around me and slug his best friend in the arm. I loved them both like brothers, but like the younger, annoying kind — just like Carter.
“Enough,” I told them, glaring at Jaxson when he got in one last flick to Vince’s ear. “June twenty-ninth. Got it. Where?”
“Michigan, of course,” Jaxson answered for Vince.
“Hey, can you let me have my moment here?” Vince threw up his hands. “Next you’re going to tell me you’ve already filled Carter in on the news.”
Jaxson’s gaze slid to mine, eyes wide, and Vince let out a long sigh at the answer that silence gave him.
“I’m happy for you, man,” I said to Vince, clapping his shoulder and squeezing hard. “Maven is entirely out of your league, but thank God you managed to make her fall in love with you. She’s the best.”
“Hey, she’s pretty lucky she got me, too,” he said with a tug on the lapels of his suit.
“Yeah. Lucky she got you to stop kissing your reflection long enough to notice her.”
Jaxson barely got the words out before Vince had him in a headlock, and then Jaxson was complaining about Vince fucking up his “flow” as I shook my head on a grin. At least the two of them weren’t trying to kill each other on the ice like they were earlier this season. Jaxson had been seeing Vince’s younger sister in secret, and when the truth came out, the whole team paid for it.
Just like I’d warned Jax we would, but that fucker couldn’t think straight at the time.
“Alright, I’m out,” I said, peering up at the drizzly sky. “I’m ready to see my girl.”
“Give her a kiss from us,” Jaxson said.
“I absolutely will not.”
They chuckled as I waved goodbye, stopping where Coach was long enough to confirm when we needed to report for practice on Saturday before I was heading for my car.
I couldn’t drive fast enough across town, the fifteen-minute ride to Davis Island feeling like a lifetime. It had only been one night, but I missed Ava any time I wasn’t with her.
The usual anxiety I felt over what I would walk into at home was present, too. In the rotation of over a dozen nannies I’d had in the last few years, I’d never known what to expect.
Although even before I pulled into the drive, I somehow already knew this time would be better.
Chloe had kept in constant contact with me, texting me updates from the moment I left the house for my flight to Boston. She informed me by the hour what Ava was doing, sent photos of them working on crafts, and even called me so I could talk to Ava before the game.
She was a fucking godsend.
The fact that she was so quick to step in and help me when Uncle Mitch had to bail told me how much she already cared about Ava. And I didn’t have to watch my daughter long to see that she felt comfortable with Chloe, too.
That made my chest pinch, because I had no idea if this was going to continue working, or if I’d have to start all over in nanny-search hell.
Chloe had been sweet to step in this week, but she had a full-time job already. And as much as she insisted it was fine, I couldn’t expect her to teach all day and take care of Ava in-between. Sometimes I needed her in the mornings, sometimes in the afternoons, sometimes at night, and many times — all three.
The girl was in her mid-twenties, if I had to guess, and was fine as hell.
There was no way she didn’t have something better to do with her time.
There was no way she didn’t want to go out with her friends, or be taken out on dates.
I couldn’t explain why that last thought made me grip the steering wheel a little tighter, my jaw tight as I turned onto our street. The rain was still coming down steadily, the streetlights blurred above.
And through that rainy haze, I could see Chloe all too clearly.
I could see the home-sewn outfits she wore, the way they always seemed custom fitted to highlight every soft, round part of her. I could see her warm brown eyes, her smile that was bright enough to knock the breath out of me every time she shot it my way. I could see the way her cheeks flushed the prettiest pink when she didn’t think I noticed, the way she’d pin her juicy bottom lip between her teeth out of nervous habit, how her hands would play with that silky red hair of hers.
Every time I watched her fidget, I wanted to give her something better to do with her hands.
And the way she looked at me, I could tell she had a crush, too.
Both of which were a big fucking problem.
Still, she had been nothing but professional. I knew I could contain my urges. If it meant having her taking care of Ava, I’d happily fuck my hand every night to get out the tension coiled in my muscles. Hell, I’d even suffer through a night at Boomer’s, the local club where the puck bunnies hung out, if it meant I managed to control my desire for Chloe.
I didn’t know if she could do the same.
But she hadn’t given me reason not to trust her — not yet. She hadn’t made any inappropriate comments or advances. She’d kept her hands to herself. She didn’t seem like she had any ulterior motive.
I wondered if there would always be this part of me that would be suspicious of every woman I came into contact with, if the parade of puck-chasing nannies I’d dealt with had fucked me up permanently.
It was nearly two in the morning when I finally pulled into my driveway, and the fatigue I’d been fighting felt like a hundred-pound weight on my shoulders as I climbed out of my Bentley. I entered the door code and tiptoed inside, doing my best not to wake anyone.
The first thing I noticed was that the house was spotless.
Ava’s toys weren’t strung from one end to the other, the way they had been more times than I could count. And, judging by the silence that met my ears, she was asleep — unlike the times when various nannies had thought they’d win my heart over by greeting me after an away game with Ava in their arms when I walked through the door.
I left my bag by the door, content to deal with it in the morning, and almost smiled when I took a few steps inside the foyer and saw the banner hanging across the staircase railing. It was bright yellow with blue and green paint that spelled out Welcome home, Daddy! There were handprints of different sizes all over it — enough variation that I knew Chef Patel had likely been dragged into this craft against her will — and little stick drawings of a goalie and an Osprey.
I sighed, but not because I was annoyed.
Because I was relieved.
Making my way to the kitchen, I poured myself a tall glass of cold milk, chugging half of it before I stood there in a daze. The full weight of exhaustion from the week was settling over me, and I couldn’t wait to get a good night’s rest and have a day off. I wished it was a day off for Ava, too, but I’d make the most of the time I had with her before and after school.
My eyes caught on a framed picture in the downstairs hallway, just barely visible from where I stood in the kitchen. It was black and white, and I didn’t need to be closer to see it perfectly in my mind. I’d stared at it long enough that the image was burned into my memory.
It was of Jenny holding Ava when she was just three months old.
Jenny had bags under her eyes and curlers in her hair, and she was still as beautiful as ever. Ava was sleeping, her little hand wrapped around Jenny’s finger.
I’d snapped the photo on my phone — one of the only ones I’d been smart enough to take.
And I’d printed and framed the grainy image about a year after she died, when I finally started pulling my head out of my ass. I filled other parts of the house with photos of Jenny and me when we were younger, too — when we were just friends who occasionally liked to hook up.
I wanted to make sure she was all around as Ava grew up, as if our daughter could somehow get to know her through the three-by-fives and eight-by-tens.
A dark shadow of movement coming down the stairs drew my attention from the wall, my heart lurching into my throat. But before I could so much as tense or grab a weapon, Chloe stepped into the soft light coming from the kitchen, a sleepy smile on her face.
“Congrats on the win,” she said, a yawn stretching her mouth as she wrapped her fluffy robe around her tighter. She had on the most bizarre pajama pants I’d ever seen in my life — bright pink with cats and books all over the fabric in a repeating pattern — and her robe was Barney purple, which matched the furry headband holding her hair off her face.
And even looking like a Crayola box had thrown up on her, she still somehow looked enticing.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the way that robe revealed she wasn’t wearing a bra, or how her thick thighs made those stupid pajama pants swish a little bit as she walked toward me. And without a stitch of makeup on, I could see the flush of her cheeks so easily, could note how her lips were still a soft pink even without lipstick.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” I croaked, clearing my throat as she made her way into the kitchen.
She waved me off. “Don’t be. I have a recurring existential crisis around this time every night like clockwork.”
She slid into a barstool while I blinked at her, waiting for more of an explanation that never came.
“Ava was very proud of you tonight,” she said, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. When she remembered she had the headband in place, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest again with a nervous smile. “I hope you don’t mind. I let her stay up tonight since we have a pretty easy day tomorrow. But I got her ready for bed in-between periods, and she knocked out as soon as the final buzzer blew.”
“It’s fine,” I assured her.
“She was so excited, even though she was clearly tired,” Chloe continued, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she recalled it. “She kept saying, Daddy scored a goal! Daddy scored a goal! I think I even saw her smile.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, so not smile,” she amended. “But less of a scowl, anyway.”
I chuffed a little laugh out of my nose at that, tilting my glass of milk one way and then the other before taking a big swig. “Yeah, well — not often that a goalie scores a goal. But with them leaving the net open in the final minutes.” I shrugged.
“Yes. Ava had to explain that to me, by the way,” she said. “Still not sure I completely understand it. Hockey makes no sense.”
“Hey now, no blasphemy in my house.”
She chuckled, folding her hands together on the island as her gaze slid to watch them. She cracked her knuckles and began wringing her fingers as silence washed over us.
“Thank you,” I said. “For everything. The house looks amazing, and the text updates were very appreciated.”
“You act like those things aren’t, like, the bare minimum of being a babysitter,” she said on a grin.
“The bar is very low, Miss Knott.”
I didn’t miss the way her skin turned that lovely shade of pink when I said her name like that.
Tonguing my cheek and doing my best not to let my mind lead me down the road it so desperately wanted to drive, I drained the rest of my milk, planting my hands on the cold granite countertop and thinking.
“I’m not very good at beating around the bush,” I said after a moment. “So… I’m just going to come out with it.” I lifted my eyes to hers. “I want to hire you. Permanently. And I want you to move in.”
Her eyebrows shot up so high it moved the fuzzy purple headband.
“I know I pitched this as a temporary thing,” I said, holding up a hand before she could speak. “But… I can’t explain how much pressure you’ve taken off me just in this last week. I’ll be honest, I haven’t even begun looking for a replacement. And to be frank, I don’t want one. I want you.”
She swallowed at those words, and I cleared my throat, standing and scratching an imaginary itch on my neck.
“Now, I realize this would be quite a change for you. I don’t expect you to quit your job or anything — I know you love it. But, living here is the one part that’s non-negotiable. With my schedule, I need you here all the time. I’m happy to pay rent at your current residence in addition to your paycheck. You won’t be responsible for cleaning, although I appreciate that you took that on yourself this time around. We have a housekeeper who comes once a week. And you’d have your own space,” I added quickly. “The pool house has an en-suite bathroom, complete with a soaking tub, as well as a kitchenette.”
I stopped talking, then opened my mouth to add something else, but snapped it shut again. I needed to give her time to answer for herself — even if I was tempted to keep listing every perk I could think of to get her to say yes.
The pool house has a huge closet.
You can use any part of the house you want to for your bizarre crafts.
Want a new car? I’ll buy it.
It killed me to stay silent, especially the longer Chloe went without answering. Her nervous tics were all I could focus on in that moment — the cracking of her knuckles, the playing with her hair, the back-and-forth criss-crossing of her legs.
They were so distracting, in fact, that I couldn’t help what happened next.
I didn’t realize I’d been moving toward her, not until my hand shot forward and covered hers.
The moment our skin touched, heat rippled through me — sharp and electric. It was like sliding into a hot spring, every cell in my body singing at the sweeping sensation.
I knew right then and there that she was the kind of girl you could get easily lost in.
Chloe stilled, her eyes on where I touched her before she slowly trailed that gaze up to mine.
“You good?” I asked.
The words felt dry and suffocated coming from my throat, but my hand was calm and sure, thumb smoothing over her wrist bone.
She swallowed, her cheeks tomato red now. “Sorry—”
“Don’t apologize,” I ordered. “Just… tell me it isn’t me that makes you this nervous.”
“I’m not in the habit of lying, Mr. Perry.”
That heat surged to an all-encompassing level, but I didn’t remove my hold on her.
“But,” she added with a coy smile and a shrug. “To be fair — almost everything makes me nervous. Or at least, makes me do things like this.” She tore her hand from mine and illustrated, cracking her wrists and wiggling a few fingers before she tucked her hands firmly between her crossed legs and kept them there.
“You don’t have to say—”
“I accept,” she butted in.
When I frowned, she dipped her head to catch my gaze, holding it as she straightened her spine.
“I want to be here. I want this opportunity,” she said confidently. “If I’m being transparent, I was worried sick the whole time you were gone, thinking you’d come home and tell me you found someone else.”
I almost laughed at that, but for me, that manifested in the way of a puff of air from my nose and the slight relaxation of my tight shoulders.
“It won’t interfere with work,” she assured me. “But… I would feel terrible for you paying my rent.”
“Don’t,” I said immediately. “I want you to keep your space.”
“Just in case you fire me?” she teased.
I didn’t answer — but honestly…. yeah, that was exactly what I was thinking. Right now, Chloe was great. But I’d thought other nannies were great, too.
My trust meter was permanently stuck at negative one at this point.
When I didn’t answer, Chloe chuckled, sliding off her barstool and folding her arms over her chest. She tucked her hands tightly in the crevices like she was afraid of what they’d do unchecked.
“When do you want me to move in?”
“This weekend would be ideal.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then she nodded. “I think we can make that happen. Oh, but I do have one condition that’s absolutely non-negotiable.”
“Name it.”
She grinned, stepping a little closer to me — enough that my nostrils flared, hands flexing with the want to reach out and touch her again.
“I won’t be the only resident in that pool house.”
I arched a brow, trying not to show any emotion, but the moment realization dawned on me, it became nearly impossible.
So she did have a boyfriend.
Maybe it was so new she didn’t want to tell me before, or maybe she didn’t feel like she needed to, but now that she knew she’d be staying here, she had no choice.
It made absolutely zero fucking sense that jealousy licked at my spine. I didn’t want her — not like that. I wanted a reliable, uninterested nanny who would take care of Ava and leave me the hell alone.
And yet…
I cleared my throat. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Oh, are you sure?” Chloe asked, smirking.
She reached for her phone in the pocket of her robe, holding the screen toward me.
And where she laughed, I groaned — not sure if this was better or worse than what I’d been assuming.
Staring back at me from that mirror-like screen in her hand were three asshole cats.
