Page 31 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

My cheeks instantly flame at the memory. And is it my imagination, or do I smell Bobby’s woodsy cologne mingling with the coffee aroma out here?

Ramona’s eyebrows spike. “That good?”

“Better.” I sigh. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been on the receiving end of another person’s complete and utter focus like that. I swear he was attuned to even my pulse during that kiss.”My eyes go unfocused and my nipples tighten as I recall the sensation of being wrapped up in Bobby like that. “He was all in, and I mean it.All. In.We both forgot where we were.” I fan myself at the memory.

“Damn.” There’s an almost reverent tone to Ramona’s response, and when I snap myself out of my Bobby fog, I see her across from me, chin propped on her hand and a goofy smile on her lips.

I can’t help my responding smile. “Yeah.”

Ramona pulls in a long breath and squares her shoulders. “Well, you clearly have to go for it.”

“Go for what?”

“Letting the hockey hottie put his focus on all your girl parts, that’s what.”

I frown at her. “You said, and I quote, ‘a pro athlete like him would eat me up and spit me out—and not in the good way.’”

She shoos me off. “Yeah, I changed my mind. I think it will be in the absolutebestway.”

“Using Bobby Rhodes to scratch an itch or get my feet wet sounds like too much of a risk to me. I should start with someone...simpler. Like maybe a mailman or a nice accountant.”

Ramona points at me and scowls from behind her glasses. “Molly, an accountant isn’t going to inspire the look I just saw on your face.”

“How do you know?” I challenge, suddenly feeling protective of my imaginary accountant boyfriend.

“Because I have an accountant. His name is Bryce, and I guarantee you he couldn’t find your G-spot with advanced GPS technology and a sherpa at his side.”

Perhaps she has a point.

“But what would make a hot young professional hockey player go for somebody more than ten years older than him? And with a kid, no less? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Hey, don’t yuck someone else’s yum. People like what they like. I happen to think the man has excellent taste.” Ramona winks at me.

I can’t help smiling at her while also shaking my head. “Yeah, well, just the thought of ending up in bed with the man makes me break out in a nervous sweat.”

“We’ll have to work on that.”

I keep going over it in my head and coming to the same conclusion. In the Catnip chats, Bobby made it clear he was interested in this mystery colleague as more than a fling. Which means his attentions these past couple weeks haven’t just been some natural flirting reflex like I previously assumed. Catnip Bobby talked about me like he wanted...a relationship.

And that scares the shit out of me.

As if reading my thoughts, Ramona says, “He asked for a date, not your hand in marriage. What can it hurt?”

I don’t bother arguing anymore, not just because Ramona is impossible to sway but because I’m maybe kind of starting to like the idea.

The moment I spot Bobby by the bleachers at practice an hour later, I change my mind completely. He’s wearing skates and form-fitting jeans, his dirty-blond hair a tousled mess andhis head thrown back in laughter at something a tall, glamorous black-haired woman just said to him. He’s turned fully into her where she leans against the bleacher rail and grins up at him. She has all his focus, and I suddenly feel like an idiot for thinking his focus on me at the house yesterday was something special. This is what he does—what he’s good at. Making women feel like they’re the center of his universe.

Ugh. What was I thinking?

I squeeze Matty’s shoulder and paste on a smile. “Go get your skates on, okay?”

“K.” He nods and runs off to join his new friend Eli where he waves at my son from down the bleachers.

Matty’s attitude is much improved today, and I know who’s responsible, even if I refuse to glance his way again. I don’t have time to waste crushing on unattainable men with stupidly charming dimples!Myfocus should be on my child’s emotional well-being and on earning enough money to put food on the table and clothes on our backs.

Matty deserves a mom who makes smart decisions and uses her time and resources wisely. The last thing I want is him growing up feeling insecure about his welfare like I did. Don’t get me wrong, my parents have always loved me, but you can’t eat love or sleep under its roof. And I refuse to ever let Matty question his own safety or well-being. It’s Blake’s and my job to provide those things and make that our top priority.

I suddenly feel ridiculous for slicking on a fresh coat of lipstick and curling my hair before bringing Matty here. I’ll just leave and pick him up when practice is over. There’s plenty of work I can get done on my company laptop using some fast-food joint’s Wi-Fi nearby, I’m sure.

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