Page 105 of A Major Puck Up

Unfazed, Millie plops down in the seat beside me. “Figured our girl will just make a mess, so I’ll give her a bath and get her dressed after breakfast. Right, Viv?”

Our girl.

Those two words are even more dangerous than the way the woman beside me is dressed. They have the power to send me tumbling into a fantasy I won’t let myself imagine. It will never happen, so it’s safer to avoid even considering it.

I’ll just ignore it. Ignore her.

If Millie’s bothered by my lack of response, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she turns her attention on the toothless kid across from her. “How’d you sleep?”

Finn shoots me a look. “Well, this one snores,” he points his thumb at me, “and I think he scared the tooth fairy away.”

She giggles. “Oh, look at that. You did lose a tooth.”

Finn nods, his head bobbing in an exaggerated way. “But the tooth fairy didn’t leave me any moneys.”

Millie sticks her lip out in a pout. “Don’t you worry. Next time you stay over, you can have your bed back, and I’ll have a sleepover with Uncle Gav instead.” She winks in my direction.

Jaw clenched, I scowl at her.

“You don’t mind his snores?”

Millie’s smile is so wicked I almost laugh. “I sleep like the dead. It’s all good.”

“Cool,” Finn says, his lips turned down in an impressed expression.

“No,” I grit out.

“Why not?” Finn asks. “Millie is pretty. And I don’t think she smells.” He leans across the table and sniffs. “Oh, you smell good. Like pancakes.”

“That’s the food on the table,” I bark, dropping my fork to my plate with a clatter.

Millie bites back a smile, but her eyes dance. “I don’t know, Uncle Gav. Want to test it out for yourself?” She pulls her messy curls back, exposing the spot on her neck she knows I love.

“Witchy woman,” I growl, only to instantly regret it.

Her brown eyes go wide, and her breath catches. Fuck. There’s no way she isn’t thinking about the night we met and everything that happened after she sang that song. I know I certainly am.

So much for forgetting. Fuck.

Hours later, after having a nice long chat with my brother about his kid’s expensive tooth and a cold, cold shower, my mood has improved. We’ll be on the road for the next week, which means I’ll be surrounded by the guys almost constantly. Surely that’ll keep me distracted from the nanny who never seems to leave my brain.

The coaches and our assistants typically sit near the front of the plane, and the players sit near the back. It’s better this way. Gives us some distance from the ruckus. The guys tend to get a little rowdy in anticipation of a series. They’re excited. I get it.

Since Ava isn’t traveling with us, I made sure she’s set up to order breakfast for the pediatric unit at the hospital this weekend. I owe her big time, and this is just a start. She’s close to a girl battling cancer, Josie, and she and Sara visit with her as often as possible. When I told her I’d hired a nanny and that she wouldn’t have to spend the next ten days on the road with us, she all but melted to the floor in relief.

War is sitting in my seat when I step onto the plane. “Vivi girl!” He holds out his arms.

She squeals and arches her back in excitement. She’s quite possibly the happiest baby that’s ever lived.

“You’re in my seat.”

“Come on, Coach. Figured you could use a break. Go hang with the team, and I’ll keep an eye on our girl here.” He points to Vivi, but I have the sneaking suspicion he’s talking about the nanny who’s walking up behind me.

“Nice try.” I nod toward the back. “Beat it.”

War pushes up to a stand, big smirk on his face, and leans in to kiss Vivi’s cheek. “Your papa used to be much more chill, Vivi girl. We gotta work on him.”

My daughter grabs hold of War’s thumb and yanks, bringing it to her mouth. Before she can make contact, I gently pry her fingers off. “Get away from my daughter.”

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