Page 18 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

I want to taste her all.

I want to immerse myself in the essence of her being, to explore every nuance that makes her uniquely herself. To understand her not just through words, but through the silent language of touch, the exchange of breaths, the meeting of souls.

Whoa, where did that come from? Just stop. Stop that train of thought and just make casual talk. Keep it simple and pray that she’s here for only a few days.

“Books are good,” I say, my voice betraying a hint of the tension knotting my shoulders. “They say they can take you anywhere.” Indigo adds.

“Anywhere but here,” I mutter, thinking that’s exactly what I need right now.

I have no business looking at this beautiful woman. She’s too young, and I . . . I am a man with many responsibilities, by a past that threatens to overshadow any chance of a future that includes laughter and lightness.

Indie nibbles on her lip, an action seemingly pure yet charged with implications that whirl my mind into a frenzy. The way in which her hair cascades over a shoulder, revealing the gentle arc of her neck as though daring me to explore its contour with a touch, with my mouth—it drives me to . . . Fuck.

I just can’t seem to control my thoughts. What’s the matter with me?

She’s only temporary, I remind myself, a mantra meant to shield me from an inevitable crash. I can’t just proposition the . . . Wait, what does she exactly do for the team?

It doesn’t matter. She’s the nanny and I work for her. That’s plenty of reasons for me to keep myself in check.

But the more I repeat myself to behave, the less convincing it becomes.

Temporary. The word thrums in my mind.

Indigo is here only for a few days.

She’s too young and I don’t have time.

She’s only temporary, I tell myself once more, willing my body to believe it.

Fuck, Brynes, pull yourself together.

Remember that saying of not eating where . . . I can’t remember the rest, but it means don’t fuck where you work or you might lose your livelihood.

I watch as she shifts, her movements graceful, purposeful, yet innocent. She doesn’t know she’s weaving herself into our lives. The very thought should terrify me—does terrify me. Yet there’s a part of me—a reckless, hungry part—that yearns to see just how close we can get before the threads unravel.

“Indigo,” I start, but freeze when she looks up. Those brown eyes wide and expectant struck me with the sudden urge to close the distance between us, to savor the unspoken words on her lips.

I clear my throat, pulling back as if scorched by the mere idea. Making an attempt to calm the sudden flare of desire. It takes more than a few beats before I manage to find my voice again. “Any luck with finding a replacement for Gemma yet?” I’m impressed at how casual I sound.

No one would know I’m having trouble controlling my body. That I need to run to the ice rink and cool the fuck down.

Indigo’s brow furrows slightly in confusion. “Who’s Gemma?”

“Our former nanny.”

“Ah.” Her reaction is subtle—a slight tilt of her head, a momentary tightening around her eyes—as she processes the information.

Since she doesn’t add more to the conversation, I ask, “Were you able to interview any candidates?”

“We made several calls and searched through some of our known channels,” she states, glancing at Myra. “Unfortunately, live-in nannies are hard to come by. As of right now, we have just one candidate who could cover during the day, but she wouldn’t be available at night.”

“If it helps, I don’t expect them to actually live here,” I say, keeping my tone light with some effort. “Just to be around when I can’t be.”

“Which means during those away games too,” she states. “And that’s when she wouldn’t be able to be here.”

I open my mouth but close it and nod.

“You sort of need a live-in nanny,” Indigo states and her statement grates on my already frayed nerves, even if she’s right. “As I was saying, we haven’t found anyone, but I’ve got a lot of people on the lookout. We’ll locate someone soon. I promise.”

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