Page 39 of Crush
“Wait, that's your nanny, right?” Ilya asked.
“Yes.”
While I waited for the laughter to die down, I tore off my shirt, balled it up, and threw it into my locker. I turned around to face the room with a finger held up in warning.
“Just so we're clear. She'sjustmy nanny. Ifanyof you guys give her a hard time, or makeanynanny jokes, or sayanythinginappropriate to her—you're gonna have to answer to me later, and I'm telling you, I'm not gonna be happy.”
Lance squeezed my shoulders. “Hey, relax there, Boomer. We'll be on our best behavior.”
“That's reassuring.”
“Besides.” Lance leered at me. “I'm happy for you.”
“Happy aboutwhat?”
“A little romance before the playoffs might be just what the doctor ordered. You know?”
“A distraction like that is thelastthing I want before the playoffs begin,” I said with a groan. “And by the way, that's the exact kind of sentiment I do not want you saying, or eventhinking,at the gala. Brynn's only coming with me so I don't have to go alone. There's nothing romantic between us. We're just friends.”
“A second ago, Brynn was just your nanny,” Ilya remarked. “And now you're just friends? Boy, things are moving fast!”
“Bwahahaha.”
Ilya's wisecracks continued. “But this is good news, boys. I think Boomer finally found his retirement project.”
“Okay, and what is my retirement project?” I asked.
“Knock nanny up and have lots of babies, obviously,” the Russian answered.
“Bwahahaha.”
“I'm donehaving babies.” I scoffed and pulled my shoulder pads on. “And we'redone with this conversation, too. Let's talk hockey,boys,hockey.”
The boys surrendered to me.“Okay, okay …”
Chapter 13
Brynn
My heart was still fluttering when Shea shut the bedroom door and left me with Chloe.
A teenager just set me up on a date with my childhood crush.
What the hell?
What am I going to wear?
I stared into space and turned that thought over and over in my head, trying to make sense of it, until the gentle roar of Shea's Bentley left the driveway.
“You're welcome, by the way,” Chloe said at last.
Slowly, my head swiveled to look at her. She was simply beaming. She looked so pleased with herself, she might have been prouder than Pickles.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“For setting you two up. Duh. That wassocute how you both got all tongue-tied and nervous, by the way. And here I thoughtIwas bad at flirting—but watching my dad try to flirt with you was almost painful.” She paused with a sudden revelation. “Oh no. I guess I gotthatfrom his genetics, too.”
“Chloe …” I began cautiously. “I hope you're not saying what I think you're saying.”
