Page 61 of Playboy

Fuckity fuck. What the hell did Daniel do?

Five minutes later,Daniel is knocking on my door. Makes me wonder if he was sitting outside again.

The moment I open the door, I’m hit with the smell of cigar and his cologne. The man standing on the other side wears the hell out of a pair of shorts and a polo shirt. I’ve seen Daniel in all types of clothing. Suits, hockey gear, T-shirts. Naked. But god, there is something extra attractive about the way the black polo tugs across his chest and how his muscled thighs cause his baby blue shorts to creep a smidge higher than they should be. Not even models can pull the look off like he does. Must be all the skating he does, because his thighs have my mouth watering.

I wave him inside. “Spend the night in a cigar bar?”

Rather than coming in, he takes a step back, his face falling. “Sorry, I changed my shirt and sprayed cologne. Is it too strong? We can do this another time.”

I grab his arm and tug him inside. “I like the smell. Stop being weird and tell me how much of a fuck-up this is.”

He ducks his head and scans the space. “Where’s Noah?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s helping Oliver get changed. Talk.”

Teeth sunken into his lower lip and his hands in his pockets, he assesses me from beneath lowered lashes. “I told Beckett you’re pregnant.”

Relief crashes over me like an ocean wave. “Jesus.” I laugh. “You had me sitting here freaking out for that?”

He straightens, his eyes narrowing. “I told yourbossthat you’re pregnant.”

I shrug. “Can’t wait to see what the big guy buys to congratulate us.”

“Why are you acting so calm?”

“I was worried you were going to tell me you knocked up someone else and that you now had two baby mamas. I was working through ways to not only co-parent with you but some puck bunny, and I—” I shake my head and laugh. “Anyway, of all the scenarios running through my head, this is far, far better.”

His brows pinch together. “You thought I knocked up someone else?” He scowls.

“I’m sure one baby mama is more than enough for you.” I wave it off, hoping he’ll let it go.

He steps so close I can’t help but inhale him. “Stop calling yourself that. I haven’t slept with anyone but you this year. There’s no chance anyone else is pregnant.”

Momentarily off balance, all I can do is gape. Seriously? He hasn’t slept with anyone else thisyear? We’re almost six months in.

Maybe I’m not the only one who presents only one part of who I am to the public.

“Are we good?” he asks, gaze sweeping over me.

Without my permission, my attention slides to his lips, and when he wets them, I whimper.

At the sound, he leans in, but before we make the catastrophic mistake of falling victim to the sexual chemistry again, a little voice interrupts us.

“Who’s that?”

Heart stuttering, I pull back. “Oliver, this is my friend Daniel. He plays hockey with your dad. Daniel, this is my nephew Oliver.”

Daniel crouches so he’s eye to eye with Oliver and holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you, buddy.”

The little guy scrutinizes him through narrowed eyes but takes his hand. “You smell funny. Like my dad does sometimes.”

Noah laughs as he approaches, hand held out to Daniel. The move is friendly enough, even if he’s assessing Daniel just as intently as his son was. “Hey, Hall. You joining us for Jenga?”

“Why’d he call you Hall?” Oliver squints at Daniel, then me. “Why do hockey players have so many names?”

The three of us burst into laughter, the moment of levity thankfully easing some of the tension in the room.

“It’s my last name,” Daniel tells him. “You can call me whatever you want.”

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