I looked up on instinct, scanning the stands until I saw her. Sitting a few rows up with a pile of papers in her lap, she was staring right back at me with an expression on her delicate features that screamed horror.
Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail today instead of tumbling loose around her shoulders like it had last night, but it was definitely her. Maisie.MyMaisie. My future wife who had left me standing on the sidewalk.
My stomach dropped as beer-soaked memories suddenly started funneling back into my brain. I honestly hadn’t recognized her in that bar. She’d grown up a lot, her features sharper and more mature now, but hearing her full name had triggered something buried deep inside my mind.
Blurry memories of house parties and us dancing together flickered behind my eyes. I remembered the humid scent of chlorine still clinging to her hair and the way her small body had wrapped around mine.
So, yeah. I remember Maisie now. I remember her for being the one girl who ever saw through my bullshit and never fell for my charms.
Until that night.
I still wasn’t sure what had changed or why she’d suddenly let me catch her after chasing her for so long. It had only been one night and my memories of it were fractured into bursts, but it had also been unforgettable.
I swallowed hard, shoving my hands into my pockets as if that might ground me.What the hell is she doing here? Why is she looking at me like that? And why the hell is my heart pounding like I’ve just taken a check to the ribs?
Also, she’s a mom? When the hell did that happen?
The thought clanged around in my skull for a few seconds as I stood there like an idiot, watching her pack up her things like she could erase her presence here if she moved fast enough.
Maisie Morgan.
I hadn’t let myself think of our night together in years. Then she’d shown up at a bar after answering my ad for a wife and now she was here, with a kid who looked like her but played like he’d been built for the NHL.
“Give me a minute,” I muttered to Gage, then skated straight for the exit.
My hands fumbled a little with my laces, but I yanked my skates off as fast as I could and jogged up the stands two steps at a time, reaching her before she’d finished cramming all those papers into her bag.
“Maisie,” I said when I reached her, a little breathless, but that was mostly shock instead of exertion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She froze, her narrow shoulders stiffening when she must’ve realized I was standing right in front of her. I was a big guy and she was tiny. I’d essentially boxed her in. She would have tocrawl over me or fling herself off the back of the stands to get away.
Judging by the fire flashing in her vibrant green eyes as she finally looked up at me, she was considering it. “What are you doing, Callum?”
“Is that why you ran out last night?” I asked, doing my best to keep my voice low and steady. “Was it because I didn’t remember you?”
Her nostrils flared, but she didn’t say a word. Clearly, she didn’t plan on speaking to me. She still looked as pissed off as she had just before she’d turned and raced away, so I tried to ease the tension with a crooked grin and a joke.
“So, what, is Brody my kid or something?”
The scowl she gave me in response could’ve stripped paint. It certainly would’ve made a lesser man cover his balls and back away. “Brody’s father isn’t in the picture.”
A strange relief washed through me, but I stood my ground, sliding my hands into my pockets and leaning against the seat in front of her. “At least you’re talking to me again. That’s a good sign. Can we please just start over? I’d really like to know why you answered that ad.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you post it? Was it some kind of sick joke to you? Are you trying to reel in women that way because you’re getting older and you’re losing your touch?”
That stung more than I wanted to admit. My jaw tightened and suddenly I was the one scowling, but at the same time, something in me lit up at the bite in her voice.
God help me, I like still like this back and forth with her.
She wasn’t batting her lashes like every other woman I’d met in the last decade. She was mean, and for some reason, I wanted her to keep going.What the hell is wrong with me?
“Let’s try again,” I said. “You obviously need something or you wouldn’t have walked into that bar. What I need is a wife.Let’s talk about it. I’m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“No, we can’t.” Her chin lifted, her shoulders squaring under her plain, cotton shirt and fitted, three-quarter-sleeve jacket. “I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
Her eyes locked on mine, her gaze clear and cutting. “Because it’s you, Callum. That’s why.”
