“You were practically drooling on your desk,” she teased.
“Please,” I said, shuffling around some case files that I’d had scattered over the top of my desk. “I didn’t fall asleep.” Though I could totally use a power nap. After last weekend I’d had nothing but restless sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, heavy breaths and tense muscles.
That’s what I get for enjoying the luxury resort Porter had taken us to. The bed alone was like falling into a cloud of lavender scented marshmallows. I couldn’t even dare to think about how deep the tub had been. God, I could’ve swum in it.
The experience was amazing and yet, I’d never realized just how small our home was before now.
“I didn’t say you fell asleep,” Grace said, tapping her pen on the arm of her chair. “But you certainly went somewhere.” She fiddled with the end of the pen to avoid looking me in the eye. “Perhaps back to the mansion that giant whisked you off to?”
Heat filled my cheeks, guilt twisting my stomach.
I kind of hated how much I’d enjoyed the weekend—despite the work I’d had to do on Saturday. I’d reveled in the comforts of luxury, something I never allowed myself to do.
Every day since I was sixteen I’d worked toward one goal—keeping Elliott safe. And alongside safety came stability. Stability equaled money and being smart with it. I never splurged on myself, and I made sure to save most of what I made. I knew Elliott was capable of earning a scholarship, but I didn’t ever want to put that kind of pressure on her. Plus, she’d need a car before college, and probably a slew of sports fees and equipment too. I’d manage it all to give her the future she deserved. Because I remembered all too well what it felt like to go hungry. To wear the same dirty clothes for weeks at a time.
But, for just a few days?
It had been freeing to not calculate every penny.
It had been nice to not worry that ordering a desert might set us back for school clothes.
It had been nice to be taken care of for a change.
And I hated myself for that.
Because I didn’t need anyone, couldn’t need anyone.
“I still can’t believe you’ve bogarted the details,” Grace said, her words slicing through my guilt and fear and grounding me in the present.
“Well,” I said. “This is hardly the place to talk about it,” I teased.
She gaped at me. “You dirty girl,” she whisper-hissed.
I laughed, shushing her. “Stop that.”
She rolled her chair across the space that separated our cubicles, the heel of her red pumps dragging a line in the carpeted floor. “You could’ve texted. Called me!”
“I told you we’ve been swamped since we got back,” I said, and that was mostly true. The scare with Melissa on Saturday had been enough for me to go out of my way to take some extra precautions for her—like helping her file a restraining order and buying her a can of pepper spray for her purse. Sure, I knew better than anyone that a restraining order was just a formality to help you later on in a court case, but it had offered her comfort just the same. I’d also grabbed a few stem toys for Liam. Funny, the money I’d taken out of savings for those gifts didn’t churn my guilt factory as much as a weekend away with Porter and the Seattle Sharks. I mean, he’d paid for everything.
Not that it put a dent in his account. Not with his net worth. I mean, his car cost more than my apartment for goodness sake.
“I expect a full rundown on girls’ night this weekend,” Grace said, and I bit down on my lip.
I wanted to tell her, I did.
She’d been the best friend I’d had in years and the fact that our daughters loved each other? A huge bonus.
But telling her about the…kiss?
Memories flooded my mind, sharp and edged with heat that made my blood soar.
Porter’s lips claiming mine, drinking me in, melting the chill in my bones like warm honey folding over itself.
His strong hands, gentle on my hips, my neck, the line of my jaw.
The strength radiating from his massive body against mine.
The way his taste had enhanced the chocolate I’d just eaten, and made me crave him more than anything before.
Just a kiss.
One kiss.
And it had shaken the I don’t need a man for pleasure or anything foundation I’d lived on for years.
Sweet Jesus, he’d made me moan from a kiss.
I’d never turned myself on with so little effort.
And now…what?
He was Elliott’s Big. And a multi-million-dollar NHL star. A bruiser, from what Elliott had told me. Someone paid to end fights. Or start them.
Violent.
I couldn’t stand violence. I’d had enough of it to last me a lifetime.
And yet, Porter had been gentle with me. Caring with Elliott, but also strong enough to challenge her to do better. How could someone inherently violent be so…
“We are still on for tonight, right?” Grace asked, and I shook the thoughts away.
“Of course,” I said. “I’m sorry I’m all over the place today, Grace. I’m honestly sleep-deprived.”
Grace waggled her eyebrows, pushing back to her desk. “Is a hockey giant the cause of this sleep loss?”
“No,” I said, heat flooding my skin once again. “No,” I said again for good measure.
I was tired because of my cases.
Tired because of the six-year-old, thread-bare mattress I’d come home to after sleeping in the sea of marshmallows at the resort.
Tired because I knew camp would start on Monday for the Sharks and I hated the idea of Elliott being crushed when Porter inevitably lost interest in the program.
At least I wouldn’t see him anymore.
The thought was both a relief and a terror.
Because I realized I’d grown accustomed to seeing that light in my daughter’s pale green eyes, the one that only sparked when she was about to go on an adventure with Porter. He offered her something I never could, and I both loved and hated him for that.
It’s why you got her into the program.
And now I was wondering if it was a mistake. We were both becoming too attached. And I had a feeling the second the season started, he’d bolt—which who could blame him when it came to his career? Then we’d be assigned a new Big who would not be able to compare—no matter how amazing he or she was.
Elliott and Porter were a perfect match—stubborn and strong and lived for the thrill of competition.
“I’ll bring the wine,” Grace said, and I hadn’t realized she’d been staring at me from her desk. How the once teasing and friendly tone had left her voice, and now she was looking at me like she could see the worry and fear written across my face.
“Good idea,” I said, and quickly buried myself in case obligations before I could over-analyze one more detail regarding Hudson freaking Porter.
* * *
“I’m not going out with Porter today?” Elliott asked as I filled a giant bowl with freshly popped popcorn.
I furrowed my brow, reaching an oven-mitt-gloved hand into the oven to pull out the brownies.
Brownies that would be so…empty without Porter’s taste.
“You saw him two nights ago,” I said, hating the breathless way my voice sounded. Mercifully, he’d picked her up and taken her to a ballpark with only a small wink in my direction.
I don’t know why I’d been afraid that I’d open my door and he’d start professing his undying love for me or something. Why I’d been scared he’d blame our little kiss on him leaving the Big program. Or why I’d been terrified that he wouldn’t say anything and pretend like it had never happened. Because surely, it hadn’t been as soul-shaking for him as it had been for me. He wasn’t the one who’d been practically celibate for nine years—as long as you didn’t count my vibrator—which I didn’t. No, he was NHL royalty and likely had a list of girls on call like any good roster for his needs.
“Mom?”
> “Hmm?” I asked.
Elliott eyed the still hot pan of brownies in my hand, her eyebrows raised.
I quickly sat them down on the stovetop and flung the oven-mitt into its drawer.
“I just thought he might come over,” she continued, shrugging. Her favorite baseball team—the Charleston Hurricanes—shirt was slightly rumpled, the athletic pants even more so, but her auburn waves framed her face instead of being tucked into one of her five caps. There was such hope in those eyes—hope for him.
I laid my palms against the countertop, sucking in a sharp breath. “Grace and Charlie are coming over tonight,” I said, blowing out the air that was tight in my lungs.
“Awesome!” She perked up at that. “I can show Charlie the shells I brought back from the beach.” She turned to rush to her room, but I stopped her.
“Elliott,” I said, and she skidded to a stop, her bare feet digging into our thin carpet. “You know…”
Her brows rose higher the longer it took for me to find the right words.
The words that were getting tangled in my throat.
“The Sharks start camp on Monday,” I said, the words coming out loud and declarative.
“Yeah,” she drug out the word. “We talked about it over hot dogs the other day.”