Page 4 of Skate the Line

“What does this website look like to you?” I ask.

Malaki pops up from the couch with too much energy and stalks over to the table. He’s still got thatyou’re-asking-me-for-advicelook on his face, but I don’t comment on it because, yeah, I’m perplexed by it too.

“Well…” He rubs his chin as he peers down at the screen. “My first thought?” he asks. “They’re hot as hell.”

My shoulders tense, and my lips flatten.

“But”—he raises his palm—“the website looks too professional to be what I want it to be.”

“Which is?” I already know the answer.

“My pick of the litter.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I quickly spin the computer around with irritation. “So you think it looks like an escort service too?” A tight breath leaves my chest. “Fucking figures,” I mutter.

Why can’t there be some older, married woman listed that is looking for something to fill her time now that her own children are grown? Someone who would be good with Ellie but also someone I won’t find naked in my shower, waiting for me? Or someone I won’t have to worry will climb into my bed late at night, wearing nothing but some scandalous piece of fabric that she begs for me to peel from her body?

Why is that so hard?

I’m asking for too much. That’s why it’s slim pickings. But I don’t have another choice—I’m a single father without even a fucking second cousin nearby to help.

Malaki leans his elbows onto the table. “I never said it looked like an escort service. I mean, it’d be legit if it were some type of dating site, but again…” He comes around the table and stands over my shoulder. “It’s too professional looking.”

After a few beats of silence, he speaks up again. “Did Kevin send that over? Trying to help you find a nanny?”

I nod. “It’s a new nanny service made strictly for pro athletes.”

“And given you can’t keep a nanny satisfied, he sent it to you,” a voice says from behind.

I peer over my shoulder and glare at Kane. He’s one of our rowdier and younger teammates.

“You make it sound like I give in and fuck them, and then they aren’t pleased.”

“We all wish you’d fuck them. Maybe you’d get that stick out of your ass if you did.”

I slam my laptop shut, and by the time I turn around, Kane is already halfway through the door and heading to the locker room.

Malaki chuckles. “I love it when you two bicker. It’s like foreplay before practice.”

Another scowl, and suddenly, Malaki is on his way to the locker room too.

They’re just as annoying as my nanny situation.

I pull open my phone and linger on the photo of Ellie on my home screen. She’s blowing a bubble with her pink bubblegum, and although our fans consider me to be cold, a bit standoffish, and too focused at times, if there’s anyone who can thaw my hardened heart, it’s her.

I click on Dylan’s name—one of my more mature teammates—and type a text.

Me: Hey, man. Can you do me a favor and ask Angela if she’s heard of this nanny service? Kevin sent it over, and I’m not sure if it’s reputable or not.

He texts back a moment later.

Dylan: Having nanny problems again?

Me: Fuck off.

Dylan: I just sent her the link. I’ll let you know what she finds out.

I toss my phone aside and head to practice. Maybe a quick puck to someone’s face will ease my mood.

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