Page 52 of Tell Me Lies

“Cheers!” they both say, smacking their cans to mine.

“Just so you know, the conversation about you and Daddy Sterns? So not over,” Tessa mutters in my ear before guzzling down her drink.

As Walker and I sit in the corner booth at a steak house we found, I look at the picture Maci sent me of her, her sister, and Poppy, all right in front of the stage. Morgan Wallen’s handsome face is a little too close for comfort, but hopefully, she remembers what I told her.

I’m the only one who can make her come the way she has been lately.

Between interviews, Walker and I decided to call the arena and pulled some strings. After all, that place is our home, and we wanted the girls to have the best seats in the house.

All right, sort of. I didn’t really want Maci any closer to Wallen than maybe, like … half the stadium away. But then the other side of me wanted to show off a bit and make this night the best night ever for her. Which was why there was a limo waiting for them outside of my place, ready to take them to the arena for the concert.

“So, the limo was your idea, and upgrading the seats … your idea,” Walker drawls thoughtfully. “You’ve got it bad for Maci, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, James.” I shrug before setting my phone down on the table.

I don’t want to hide what Maci and I are doing because, to be honest, she’s fucking beautiful and incredible and any man would be lucky to be sleeping with her. But Maci seems like a very private person, and it’s not my place to tell Walker—or anyone—what we’re doing. Even though, if I had it my way, I’d tell everyone. That way, they’d know to stay away from her.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters with a quick shake of his head. “You’re respecting her privacy—I get it.” He takes a sip of his Coke before grinning at me. “But just so you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that girl look happier than she did tonight when y’all were FaceTiming.”

Thank fuck, before I can answer, Kolt struts over to our booth, sliding in next to me. The three of us have some business in New York this weekend, but that fucker has been disappearing all day.

“I was beginning to think you stood us up.” I punch his arm. “I almost cried, thinking you didn’t love me anymore.”

“Nah, just had a few things to take care of,” he mumbles. “I hate weekends like this.”

Kolt has been this way since I met him, but his hatred for the press has only gotten worse since his separation from his wife. He keeps out of the media as much as he can, which is hard to do as a professional athlete. But when his wife left him, the reporters kind of honed in on every detail about the poor guy. They even tried to paint him as a cheating bastard online. So, anytime we have to travel to do promotional-type shit, he hates it.

In all honesty, I think the man just wants his wife back. I mean, it’s been well over a year since she left, and the dude still wears his wedding band despite his publicist telling him it’s time to take it off because it only draws more attention.

“We know, big guy. We know.” Walker nods. “But a steak dinner is about to make you feel better.”

I pat my stomach, nodding my head. “True that. I’ve never come face-to-face with a steak and not felt better after it was in my belly.”

Kolt’s head turns toward mine, and he gives me anare you fucking seriouslook. “You are one hundred percent a fucking dad,” he says before, finally, his lips turn up the slightest bit. “You can’t even talk normal anymore.”

“Dude, he was like this before he had Amelia,” Walker points out. “I think he’s gotten worse with his corniness, yes. But … he’s always been”—he waves his hand toward me—“Logan Sterns.”

I take no offense to whatever they are trying to say, but the waitress comes out before I even have to bother questioning it. She smiles, suddenly appearing nervous as she takes the three of us in. She thrusts her tits even higher in the air, and she bites down on her bottom lip. She’s hot, but she isn’t Maci McKenzie—that’s for sure.

We all order and then shoot the shit while we wait for our food. And even though I’m having fun with the guys, I miss Amelia.

And what’s a little unsettling is … I miss the hell out of Maci too. I’m ready to be home with my girls. Both of them.

I’ve been to a few hockey games, sure, but I never had a clue what was going on, and to be honest … I was bored. Sitting with Amelia in the special seats Logan reserved for us for a preseason game, I still don’t know what’s happening on the ice. But with my eyes on a certain jersey with the number nine andSternsacross the back, I’m anything but bored tonight.

It’s the final period, and I am not going to lie and say being at this game has been completely easy. Amelia has been a little tricky to have here because she’s three and sitting still for this long is a challenge. Luckily, with the help of Maddie and Logan’s binder, I knew how to pack a lot of good stuff in her bag. Although seeing as he packed most of it before he left this morning, I really didn’t need to.

I can’t fight the stupid-ass grin that spreads across my lips when I think about this morning. Amelia slept in late, so when I was in the kitchen, fixing my coffee, he passed through and came behind me, cornering me against the counter. I craned my neck to peek up at him, and he kissed my cheek before muttering something about how he wished he had time to bend me over the countertop and make me cry out his name—which was completely filthy and unfiltered, just like him most of the time.

I wish he’d had time because between him traveling this past weekend with some of his teammates for work, practices, and reviewing game tape to prepare for tonight’s opening preseason game, every second he’s at home has been the three of us. WhichI love—so much. But there hasn’t been any sexy time, and I’m craving him something wicked.

During a time-out, I swear that I’ve dived headfirst into a hockey romance story when he skates toward us and puts his glove against the plexiglass. When Amelia puts her tiny palm against it, I think my ovaries might just burst inside of my body, and I have to fight looking like a complete weirdo as I stare in awe.

He smiles at his daughter, looking at her with the utmost pride. Then, his eyes shift to mine, and his grin widens.

“Looking good, Boston,” he says, tipping his chin down. “The two of you might just be my good-luck charms.”

Giving me one more extremely flirtatious smirk, he skates away, and my heart feels like it’s being squeezed so tightly that it might burst into a thousand pieces.

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