Page 73 of Sweet Thing

“He doesn’t want you to date me. Of course it makes him mad.”

“But you don’t want to date me, either, do you, Rowan?”

His gaze sharpened. “I asked you out.”

“Yeah, but not because you’re interested in me. This is about Lars, right?”

He scowled at the mention of his teammate, then quickly adjusted. “Aw, Addy, don’t be like that.”

I had checked Rowan’s profile on Instagram. He’d posted several pictures of us, cropping them to make us look close and personal. The hashtags were the usual junk: #clublife #hockey #chicagorebels but there was also one called #hockeyhos and another tagging #larsnyquist.

So, not a real date.

And all because no one saw me for me. I was Theo Kershaw’s daughter, Hatch Kershaw’s sister, Lars Nyquist’s nanny. Even Rosie’s friend.

“Tell the truth, Rowan. You have a beef with Lars, right? And this ‘date’ is some way to make him upset, so he’ll what? Screw up and you get your shot on the ice?”

He made a face. “C’mon, Addy. So you have a crush on Nyquist. I heard you talking to Tara about it. This way we kill two birds—you make him jealous, and I make him mad. I saw how he was when I showed up.”

“I don’t want to—look, there’s no point in talking to you about this. You clearly have an agenda. And I don’t like playing games.” I stood, fighting back tears. Rowan’s actions might have been intended to make Lars mad, but they only served to earn my fury. Enough to pick up my glass of Prosecco and throw it in his face.

Which I did. “And you don’t get to call me Addy.”

Thirty minutes later,I exited the Viper dance floor and ran into Candi again.

Her face lit up. “Another water or are you ready to hit the hard stuff?”

I grinned at her, feeling a touch breathless. “Still with the water.” I’d already given her a twenty to keep me hydrated, but that was chicken feed for a server of her caliber, so I fished out another.

She shook her head as she passed the water glass over. “Nope. After the way you sorted out that slimeball, I can happily say your money is no good here.”

Rowan appeared to have recovered from a glass of bubbly to the face just fine. Right now, he was surrounded by an entourage more to his taste. Adoring women, braying men.

“Is it weird that I stayed?” I asked Candi.

“No. Though most women would be holed up in the bathroom sobbing instead of getting down solo on the dance floor—hello, what do we have here?”

I turned to where her avid gaze was drawn, then blinked to focus my own. But it didn’t make a difference because the strangest image was still in my sightline.

Lars Nyquist in the club.

And he was heading this way.

As if that wasn’t shocking enough, something else snagged my attention. In his hand, at knee level, he carried a large object. I could barely make it out, but then the crowd parted, and I understood.

The car seat—and it was occupied.

Lars had brought Mabel to a nightclub!

I slid a look to Candi, whohadto have seen it all. Her mouth had fallen open. I was happy to provide this new experience for her.

He stopped a foot away. His eyes searched my face, followed by a quick glance over my body. To confirm I wasn’t hurt? Or something else?

He came here for me.

“You okay?”

“Of course I am.”

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