Page 29 of Pucking Fate

“Yeah, right,” I snort. “I bet managers would think I’m full of shit if I put down that the oh-so-famous hockey player Christian Riley sings my praises.”

“Fine. But the offer still stands.”

“Thanks,” I tell him. “Between neighbors and Elle, I think I’ll have three.”

Christian nods and then asks, “So, you and Elle are good friends?”

“She’s hard not to love.”

“True,” he replies with a smile that quickly falls. “Not that I loved her. I mean, maybe I thought I did, but she was just different from the puck bunnies.”

“It’s fine if you loved her, Christian,” I assure him.

“I didn’t. I did care for her, though. And I regret how I ended things.”

“If you asked Elle now, she would probably thank you for dumping her,” I remark. “If you hadn’t, she wouldn’t have met Preston, and they wouldn’t be madly in love.”

“I’m glad things worked out for them, not just as a couple, but with Preston moving to Greensboro. I guess it would’ve been hard for Elle to leave her shop.”

“Yeah, it’s for the best. Even though I miss him.”

“Luckily for you, I know where to find him,” he says with a grin. “All it takes is packing up a few boxes…”

“A few boxes!” I exclaim with a shudder. “Do you see all this stuff, all of our furniture, the toys Finley has accumulated thanks to being spoiled by Uncle Preston? It would take no less than half a dozen movers and more than two tractor-trailers to haul all this down to North Carolina.”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay,” Christian says, his voice sincere just before Finley comes running into the living room and grabs his arm to pull him to his feet.

“I’m ready to go back outside!”

“Hold on a second, buddy,” I tell him. “Did you flush and wash your hands?”

Rolling his eyes, his cheeks redden in embarrassment, like how dare I ask such a thing in front of hot shot athlete Christian Riley before he huffs, “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good. Now, even though you’re playing in water keeping cool, you still need to hydrate and grab a snack before you go back out in the heat.”

“Fine,” he groans as if I’ve asked him to give up his entire Lego collection.

“And make sure you check with Christian before assuming that he wants to play out in the heat all day with you!”

“I’m getting some good training in,” the hockey star replies with a widening grin. “We’re playing slip and slide backyard hockey. It’s almost like skating except you fall down more.”

“I don’t even want to know,” I mutter with a shake of my head. “Just don’t let him break any bones. And let me know if you need helping making a snack.”

“I can handle making a snack, Maya,” Christian says tightly right before Finley runs off to the kitchen. And in his now steely gaze, I know exactly what he’s thinking, what he’ll probably want to talk about tonight—When am I going to tell Finley that he’s his father and not just a famous friend who comes to play with him?

And the answer is, I have no freaking idea.

Once that cat is out of the bag, it’s never going back inside.

The only thing worse than having an absentee father is having to constantly see him on television playing hockey, unable to avoid his fame.

Christian

Later that night, I refuse to let Maya go down on me, waiting until after she comes on my tongue twice before I broach the subject she’s been avoiding.

Lying on my side next to her in nothing but my boxer briefs, I run a slow finger down her chest, right between the cups of her bra she kept on while we fooled around. I didn’t object when she tugged off my shirt and yanked down my shorts, even though she still refuses to get completely naked with me, which is so damn frustrating. That frustration is why I find myself saying to her, “So…I think things are going well with Finley, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” she replies, her eyes still hazy with pleasure.

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