“Seriously,” he said, fixing her with his iridescent blue eyes. “Looks like you had everything under control. Thanks for stepping up. Being alone with the girls wasn’t part of the deal.”
“No biggie,” Sunny replied breezily. “Life happens, and I understand your work isn’t a typical nine to five.”
His hand remained on her arm, and Sunny found she didn’t mind at all.
“Look, we might have started off on the wrong foot,” Liam said, appearing somewhat uncomfortable. “I just want you to know that I… I…” He struggled to find the right words. “…appreciate you, and I know the girls think the world of you.”
Sunny offered him a reassuring smile.
“As I was saying, Mr Anderson…”
“Liam,” he interrupted. “Please, just call me Liam.”
“Okay, Liam,” Sunny replied. “The girls are happy, and the house is still standing.”
She gestured around the room to emphasize her point, noticing how his eyes followed the movement of her body beneath her thin nightshirt.
He flushed when their eyes met again.
“Right,” Liam muttered quickly, clearing his throat and withdrawing his hand from her arm. “Well then, I suppose I’ll let you carry on.”
She could see him visibly cringe at his own choice of words; he really was out of his depth with this new situation.
“That would be my pleasure,” she replied, heading toward the kitchen with a renewed spring in her step.
Liam
The roar of the crowd was deafening as bodies collided against the boards. Liam grimaced, tasting copper as an elbow caught the corner of his mouth. He quickly retaliated, landing a solid punch on his opponent’s jaw just as the referees rushed in to break up the melee.
It was just another typical night at the office for a pro hockey player, and fighting was an unavoidable part of the game. When the final whistle blew, Liam’s Kansas City Coyotes emerged victorious, beating the Denver Dolphins five to three, with Liam contributing a goal. However, he bore a black eye and a swollen lip as evidence of the night’s battles.
Later, in the locker room, Liam gingerly prodded the swollen skin around his eye. He hissed at the sharp sting of pain radiating through his face.
“Nice shiner, old man,” his teammate Brock Labrone teased, slapping him on the back. “Anderson still striking fear in guys half his age, eh?”
Liam forced a cocky smirk, trying to play it cool.
“Those rookies should watch who they’re mouthing off to out there,” he said. “No respect these days.”
His bravado swelled his chest, but the aches and pains were becoming harder to ignore with each passing season. At 33 years old, Liam knew his playing days were numbered in this brutally physicalsport. Though he refused to admit it, the prospect of life after hockey genuinely terrified him. But for now, it was one day at a time.
By the time he got home, it was well after midnight. The house was dark and quiet. Liam slipped off his shoes and crept down the hallway, his muscles protesting with every step. As he passed the girls’ rooms, he peeked in to check on Maddie and Hailey. The sight of his daughters’ peaceful sleeping faces filled him with both pure love and lingering grief.
It would soon be half a year since their beloved mom, Kate, had passed away. Some nights, the loss felt as raw and devastating as the day it happened; other times, the heaviness lessened slightly, thanks to his two little rays of sunshine.
Liam continued to his bedroom. He shed his clothes, leaving them in a familiar heap on the floor, and changed into his usual T-shirt and shorts. He turned on the bright light above the wardrobe, squinting at his battered reflection in the mirror. Damn, that was one hell of a shiner blooming across his eye socket. He needed some ice.
With a resigned sigh, he switched off the light and headed to the kitchen.
“Bloody hell,” a soft voice jolted him as he approached the fridge.
Liam spun around to find Sunny standing in the doorway, her golden-brown hair tousled and sky-blue eyes wide with shock. She wore a cotton camisole and shorts beneath her robe, her bare feet quiet on the floor.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Sunny said quickly, pulling her robe tighter around her lithe frame. “It’s just you look like you’ve been in a boxing ring, rather than an ice rink.”
“No, it’s…you’re fine,” he assured, slightly at a loss for words.
The last thing Liam wanted was to make her feel unwelcome or uncomfortable in his home; it was technically her home too, at least while she was in his service.
