Page 86 of Ice Daddy
And waited.
Until Lance's features grew heavy.
Slowly, his eyes raised to hers.
Paige's heart raced in her chest.Whydid he look like he had bad news? Did the doctor's office screw the test up and come back with a false negative? Sheknewhe was Irie's father, damn it!
“I'mnotthe father?” Lance muttered, stunned.
“What?! That's impossible!” Paige stammered, gasping. “Let me see that!”
And then, Lance's heavy features suddenly lightened. He clutched at his sides and laughed. “Haaaaa! Got ya!”
Paige's face turned bright red. “Oh my God! Lance! That's not funny!”
He sat on the couch next to her and passed her the results. “I'm totally the father. Gave you a scare though, didn't I?”
“Yes! Ugh!”
“I'm sorry, but I had to! But I told you that I never doubted you, babe. Come here. Gimme a kiss.”
Still mad, she tried to push him away. “No!”
But he wouldn't let go.
“I love you, Paige,” he said, his stupid voice warming her cold heart.
“Lance Couture—” she began, shaking her head.
“Tell me you love me,” he said with a devious grin. He squeezed her with his big, hunky arms.Damn it all,his warm, thick and snuggly arms had a way of sweeping all her perfectly justified outrage away.
She stuck a finger in his face. “Don't you dare trick me like that again,” Paige scolded him, a playfulness seeping into her voice.
“I won't.”
“Promise me you won't.”
“I promise, I won't.”
“Then …fine.” She grinned. “I love you too.”
Lance kissed her on the forehead, hugged his girls tight, and gave a happy sigh.
My little happy family,Paige thought, letting herself melt in her hockey player's burly arms.
###
THE END
Epilogue
Three Years Later
Lance burst through the door, holding four-year-old Irie by the hand. She was dressed in her adorable pink tutu and still chattering about her ballet class.
Yep—balletclass, not hockey practice, which secretly broke Lance's heartjusta touch. Lance had been so certain that Irie would follow in his footsteps, thanks to the early interest she'd showed in playing hockey. But truthfully, shortly after the move to Boston, Irie stopped showing any interest in hockey—even when the family adopted a Jack Russell terrier who loved to play fetch. Paige and Lance liked to joke that young Irie's interest in hockey was only a ruse to find her Dad and bring him back into her life.
But like a good Dad, Lance supported Irie's interest in ballet nonetheless, even though she tortured him with hours' long retellings of what they did in class.
