Page 74 of Sweet Thing

“You didn’t look okay in those photos.”

Lars had tracked me down through Rowan MacFarlane’s social media?

Rather than respond to that, I moved my attention south. “You brought Mabel.”

“Couldn’t leave her on her own. At least not yet.” He grinned and my heart fluttered dangerously. “Besides, she should see what hockey players do in their spare time.”

Mabel’s eyes were dancing, the loud music and vibrant lighting keeping her interest.

“I think she likes it.” I swiped at a tear.

“Hey now.” He placed Mabel down on the floor between us, protecting her from the crowd. Protecting me. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” I added, “With Mabel,” so it was clearthatwas the shocking part of it all, though it wasn’t. I was having a miserable time, and Lars had come to fetch me home.

Somehow this man knew I needed him.

I turned to Candi and gave her my last twenty dollars. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Sure, girl.” She leaned in and whispered, “Is this your guy?”

“My boss.”Also my dad’s teammate, closest friend, and the guy I’m falling hopelessly in love with.“I’m Mabel’s nanny.”

Candi nodded slowly. “Right. Your boss. With the baby. At the club.”

She was right. None of this made much sense.

“You ready?” Lars fixed me with another trademark intense stare, to which I could only nod. We threaded our way through the crowd and when we reached the exit, Lars handed a ticket to the valet.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

“Just mismatched expectations.”

He faced me, his eyes fiery suns. “Meaning?”

“I thought it was a date, and he obviously didn’t. He just wanted to use me to piss you off.”

Lars didn’t look surprised, which felt even worse. “He hurt you.”

“Just my pride. I can patch that up no problem.”

He stared so hard I had to look away in embarrassment. Here I was, being rescued from a fake/revenge date by the guy I was falling for and who had told me it would never happen, in this lifetime or the next.

The valet pulled the car around and I stood by helplessly while Lars affixed the car seat in place, expertly working the loops of the seat belt and securing it. Only two weeks ago he barely knew what a car seat was; now he was an adept handler of babies and distressed women alike.

He closed the back seat door and opened the passenger one. “Get in.”

His hot palm on my elbow filled me with shame. Apparently I was now the kind of woman who needed to be rescued. First, Greece. Now Lars had uprooted his baby daughter from her crib to give me a ride. The burning humiliation was morphing into something closer to anger.

“I didn’t ask you to come get me.”

“No, you didn’t. We should talk about that. Watch Mabel for me.”

He closed the door and disappeared back inside the club. The valet glared at me, as if I was responsible for leaving the car in the no-load zone. A minute later, Lars was back.

Flexing his fist.

Had he—no, he couldn’t have.

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