Page 85 of Hooked On Them

Inside, Mateo was already showing my men around the spacious living room, dining room, and kitchen area with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

“This place is incredible.” Miles gazed at the view and looked more relaxed than he had minutes ago.

Carter was examining family photos on the wall. “Baby Nora! Look at those little skates!”

Dominic hung back, his posture rigid as he scanned the room. I didn’t miss how his eyes lingered on the trophy shelf where my dad kept his Stanley Cup rings prominently displayed. Three from his time as a player and one from coaching.

Mateo called everyone into the kitchen for drinks and snacks, and I pretended like I wasn’t one stray thought away from a nervous breakdown. After ten minutes of small talk and Carter nearly knocking over a decorative bowl shaped like a hockey helmet, I stood from where I’d sat at the island and smoothed my shirt.

“I’m going to freshen up real quick before dinner.” I gestured in the direction of the stairs. “Come on, guys. I’ll show you your rooms.”

They followed me without question, and I led them down the familiar upstairs hallway, feeling like I was back in high school sneaking friends in after curfew, except now I was twenty-eight, pregnant, and my dad was fully aware of the male parade following me upstairs. I half-expected a laugh track to kick in at any moment.

“There are two guest rooms right here and one down at the end of the hall.” I pointed toward the door at the far end, past my own bedroom.

Carter immediately stepped forward. “I’ll take the one at the end. I like having a corner room. Better vibes.”

I snorted. “They all have the same vibes. This isn’t a resort with different themes.”

“Oh, I know. I just need a reason to take the farthest room from your dad.” He whispered the last part, but not quietly enough.

Miles shook his head, fighting a smile. “Smooth, Campbell.”

“Please, like you two aren’t ready to piss yourselves every time he glances your way.” Carter reached for my suitcase. “I’ll take this to your room.”

I grabbed the handle. “I can manage my own bag.”

“I know you can.” He winked, somehow making the gesture both flirtatious and sincere. “But why should you when you have me?”

Before I could protest further, he’d already taken it, leaving me standing empty-handed.

“We’ll get settled then.” Miles disappeared into the first room with a pointed look at me that clearly meant ‘be careful.’

Dominic hesitated, his gaze lingering on Carter before he nodded and retreated into the second guest room, closing the door with a soft click.

I followed Carter down the hall toward my childhood bedroom, now technically a guest room, though it still had enough of my past scattered around to mark it as mine. Dad had kept most of my trophies and competition photos that I hadn’t taken with me on display, though the boy band posters and fairy lights had mercifully been removed.

Carter set my suitcase down, his eyes immediately scanning the room, taking in every detail like he was cataloging pieces of my history. His gaze lingered on a photo of teenage me in a sparkly skating costume, hair pulled back in a severe bun, holding a trophy almost as big as my torso.

“Look at you.” He picked it up, examining it with an appreciative smile. “Fierce even back then.”

“That was juniors. I was thirteen and thought I was on my way to being the next Michelle Kwan.” I shrugged, as if it didn’t sting sometimes that I had been on my way to just that.

Carter nodded, his expression softening as he took in more photos: me and Josie with my mom before she died, me at hockey games with Dad, medals and ribbons from competitions.

The energy in the room shifted as he sat down on the edge of my bed, his usual bravado dialed back enough that I could see beneath it. It was the same glimpse I’d gotten when I’d told him I was pregnant and then again when we found out the paternity.

“Your dad kind of terrifies me,” he admitted.

“He has that effect on people.”

“It’s not the hockey legend thing, or even the ‘I was almost the daddy’ thing, though that’s part of it.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect styling he’d accomplished in the airplane bathroom. “I really want him to like me, and I don’t think it’s working.”

I leaned against my dresser. “We’ve barely been here twenty minutes, and he doesn’t like anyone at first. Especially three men who show up with his pregnant daughter.”

“I get that, but...” He looked down at his hands. “I can tell he sees right through me.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

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