Page 50 of Sweet Thing

“Why does everyone think I’ve been hoodwinked into this gig?”

“Oh, no reason.” That knowing smirk said differently.

“Has Esme said something?” I hadn’t seen my friend for ages—she was at NYU—but she had been privy to my embarrassing crush back in the day.

Tara stood upright and placed a hand on her hip. The salon apron she wore dipped below her blue leather mini but did little to hide her killer legs. “Honey, I just don’t want you to get hurt. Take it from me who has chased after the wrong guy far too many times.”

Tara’s shenanigans as a hockey husband hunter back in the day were fabled, but after a few wrong turns and a crazy fake dating scheme with Dex O’Malley (wild!), she’d eventually found her happily-ever-after with Hale Fitzpatrick, a former Rebels GM. No doubt she meant well, but I refused to be lumped in with sad and pathetic hockey bunnies like Mabel’s mom. Besides, Lars and I had talked it out and we were being totally professional. Lines had been drawn!

“I didn’t take this on so I could get closer to Lars. That was schoolgirl stuff, just a crush that’s history. I did it because I’m a team player and I didn’t want my mom to be landed with all the work. Because that’s what happens, Tara. Women are expected to take on all the unpaid labor.”

Tara blinked at my outburst. “Well, aren’t you an absolute star?”

“Certainly sounds like it.”

We both turned to the sound of a deep-voiced rumble. Rowan MacFarlane, one of the Rebels D-men, stood at the salon’s entrance. Not really on my radar, he’d been acquired by the franchise about six months ago. (Rosie said he was big on social media, which always made me suspicious.) He was good-looking, that was for sure. Blonde, square-jawed, and clean-shaven.

Had he overheard me talking about my crush on Lars? I really needed to keep my mouth zipped.

“Hi, Rowan,” Tara said breezily. “Have a seat, I’ll be with you in a sec.” Her phone buzzed. “Oh, that’s the General.”

Tara moved away to talk to her husband while Rowan sidled closer and studied Mabel, his nose twitching like he’d encountered something particularly noxious. “Nyquist’s kid? She doesn’t look like him.”

“I wouldn’t say that. She has his eyes.”

“My sister just had one and he already looks like her husband. Bit of a potato head.” He held out a hand, weirdly formal. “I’m Rowan.”

“Adeline.” I stood and shook his hand, matching his formality, which made him smile. “Good to meet you.”

“Yeah, about that.” He was still holding my hand and used the leverage to draw me in as he bent close to my ear. “How come we haven’t met yet?”

Was he flirting with me? I wish Rosie was here to tell me.

“I’ve been away. Traveling.”

“Right, your brother said. Thailand or somewhere.”

“Thailand, Malaysia, Vietnam, Laos. We did Europe, too.”

He nodded. “Cool. And now you’re looking after Nyquist’s kid?”

“Just temporarily while he works on getting a permanent nanny.” Something occurred to me. “Shouldn’t you be in practice?”

“I have a wrist injury, so I was in rehab instead of on the ice. But they’re finishing up any minute now.”

“Oh, okay. I should probably get going then.”

He was still holding my hand, using his non-injured one, I supposed. It wasn’t … terrible.

“So what do you do for fun?” I must have looked surprised because he laughed. “You’re not hanging with a baby and Nyquist all the time, are you?”

Lately, yes. Just listening to my crush jerking off and engaging in small talk with a seven-month-old. A real party animal.

“I haven’t had much time since I got back.”

“Maybe we should hang sometime.”

“Okay, sorry about that!” Tara came bustling over. “Rowan, chair, please.”

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