Page 15 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

“For the girl who still tears up watching cute pet adoption videos? And watches rom-coms every single night. The one who bonded with everyone back in high school? Yeah, it’s odd,” she says frankly. “You haven’t dated seriously since that cutie Justin during your sophomore year. What happened, Indie?”

“Justin was a really nice guy,” I say with a small, wistful smile. We went out for a few months and then he moved to Arkansas or somewhere around the south. It’s been so long I can’t remember exactly where he went.

“Okay, so what happened after him?” Lyric presses. “Something must have made you shy away from dating.”

I exhale, gripping the steering wheel. “I’d really rather not get into ancient history, Lyr. It was a long time ago and it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“If it still affects how you approach relationships, then it does matter,” Lyric says gently. “But I won’t push you to share before you’re ready. Just know I’m always here when you want to talk, okay?”

“Love you, Lyr.”

“Love you too,” she replies. “And clearly being around Mr. Hunky Hockey Dad isn’t good for your peace of mind. I’ll meet you at your office as soon as I can and we’ll sort out a replacement ASAP.”

“Thank you for being the best sister ever.”

Lyric just laughs. “That is what big sisters are for,” she states. “I might check on Harper to see what she’s doing. Three heads are better than one.”

“Three it is,” I agree. “I’ll even pick up some pastries.”

And just like that, my problems might get solved before lunchtime. It pays to be one of the youngest in my family.

Chapter Nine

Indigo

An hour later, I’m at the new offices of the Seattle Sasquatches, perched at the edge of my desk. Harper and Lyric are cozily squished together on the small love seat across from me, laptops precariously balanced on their knees.

We’re on a mission to find the perfect nanny for Myra. Someone who’s not only skilled but also compassionate and loving. I mean this little girl moved across the country with her dad leaving everything behind—family and friends included. We all agree that whoever gets the job will provide stability and a sense of security to this little one.

Scanning the list with sharp eyes, Harper thoughtfully tucks a chestnut strand behind her ear. “They’ll need ample experience of course, plus endless energy to keep up with a five-year-old . . .”

Lyric nods enthusiastically, “Oh, yes, stamina is a must when chasing a little one around.”

Harper’s gaze narrows, zeroing in on the most critical qualification. “And most importantly, someone who can handle Tyberius’s rather . . . imposing personality.”

Lyric snorts in amusement, flipping her hair over her shoulder flirtatiously. “By ‘handle Tyberius’s personality,’ you mean someone who won’t turn into a puddle of want every time he walks into the room with that gorgeous face.” Her manicured fingers dance rapidly across the keyboard and she lifts the screen, displaying a photo of the chiseled single dad. “I mean, the man is walking artwork.”

“Ten out of ten,” Harper agrees with a dramatic sigh, brushing back her chestnut waves. “Even I would have trouble keeping my hands away and I swore off men long ago.”

I can’t help but laugh, leaning back in my chair and tapping a pen against my lips. The image of Tyberius, with his effortlessly styled hair and those green piercing eyes that seem to see right through you, flits across my mind. I release a breath, meeting my sisters’ amused gazes. “Yeah, ‘artwork’ is one way to put it. But little Myra needs stability right now, not a revolving door of swooning nannies.”

Lyric bursts into giggles. “Oh, yes, just one smoldering look from that smoking hot hockey stud and they’d be melting into dreamy puddles under his skates.”

“So true,” I say.

“We’ll have to find someone tough as nails who is immune to sweaty athletes.” Harper winks dramatically. “Good luck with that.”

That reminds me that this is serious business and I have to find someone now for my own sanity. “I know you find this amusing but we really need to find someone suitable.”

Harper clicks on a profile, her expression morphing to one of concentration. “Here’s a prospect. Alessia Stanley. Former preschool teacher, five years of nannying experience with high-profile families.” She scans further down the page. “And it says here that she’s looking for a long-term position.”

Lyric leans in, squinting at Harper’s screen. “Impressive. But does she know what she’s signing up for? I mean, it’s not just Myra. It’s the whole ‘dealing with the schedule of a hockey player who might be gone for days at a time.’”

“Ugh, dealbreaker. She doesn’t do live-in arrangements or overnights,” Harper interjects with a frown, brushing back her wavy chestnut hair in frustration. Her nimble fingers fly across the keyboard as she refines the search. “Okay, let’s add a filter for willingness to stay overnight when needed.”

I nod slowly, setting down my pen with a heavy sigh.

Harper closes the laptop, her probing gaze meeting mine. “Fair warning, you’re not going to like my next words.”

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