Page 16 of Skate the Line

“I turn twenty-six in a few weeks,” she argues.

I detect a hint of annoyance in her tone, and it’s a pleasant surprise. Every other nanny I ever interviewed tried too hard to please me. Half the time, I think they mistook my irritation and clipped responses as foreplay instead of what it really was:annoyance.

I cross my arms to mimic her stance. “Twenty-six?”

All I get is a curt nod.

“I’m thirty-two,” I add.

Sunny’s lips curve. “Well, then…I guess I should call you grandpa.”

I blink a few times and try to clear my head, because she surprised me again.

“What does your age have to do with mine?” she adds.

It doesn’t. Her age has nothing to do with nannying my daughter. In fact, Gia was around twenty-six when she had Ellie.

“I worry about your intentions,” I say.

There it is again—the worry digging into her features.

“My intentions?” She clears her throat. “If you were to hire me, my only intention would be to care for your daughter.”

Silence surrounds us. The noisy city fades, and all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Heat creeps up my neck and spreads across my skin with the amount of stress I’ve been carrying around.

I give her one more long look. She looks sweet, and I do think she has a good head on her shoulders. Her determination runs deep. I can feel it like my own.

But I’ve been fucked over one too many times.

My trust in pretty women is nonexistent at this point.

“I’m sorry.” My apology is more of a grunt. “But again, you’re not what I’m looking for.”

Sunny’s shoulders fall, but the disappointment only lasts a second. There’s a little crevice in between her eyebrows thatdisappears when she finds whatever she started to dig for in her bag.

A small piece of paper is trapped between her thumb and finger. I take it hesitantly before stepping away.

“I’ll be in town for a few more days if you change your mind.”

I shove the crumpled piece of paper in my back pocket and grumble under my breath, “I won’t.”

Ice flies up with the cutting of my skate. I have the urge to snap my stick in half, but that’ll make me look like an overgrown toddler, so instead, I flex my jaw and climb over the side toward the bench.

“Why are you pulling me in?” I shout to Coach Jacobs.

I sit down with anger rushing through my limbs.

“Emergency.”

My heart stops. I stand right back up. My stick slips out of my hand, and Malaki swoops it up without even looking in my direction. I nod at Coach Jacobs, thankful that he and I have the type of coach/player relationship that allows me to put my daughter first.

It was my only stipulation when I switched teams. My agent hunted for a team that would accommodate my lifestyle of being a single father, and the Chicago Blue Devils were the only ones willing to bend while still offering me a hefty salary.

We sucked at first. I’m not going to lie.

But this year is different. That’s partly why I’m so dead set on finding a nanny who I can trust so I’m able to focus on the team and the rest of our schedule.

One of the managers hands me a phone. “Hello?”

---