Dean Fields was just twenty-one when he’d gotten the call from her mom about having a daughter. To his credit, he’d immediately come to see her. However, he’d been at the very beginning of his hockey career, playing for the Baltimore Stingrays. While he’d admitted he wasn’t prepared to be a father, he’d done as much as he could at the time, which was to help support her financially.
Dad rocked her gently, shushing her in a soft voice. “It’s okay,” he reassured her. “Whatever it is, we’ll make it okay.”
They were the perfect dad words and exactly what she needed to hear. They calmed her, and she lifted her head.
Dad wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Tank?”
She nodded, half expecting him to lose his shit toward his player. After all, she’d spent the past few weeks listening to Tank bitch, as well as wonder, about why the coach was riding his ass.
McKenna was damn sure she knew why her father was giving Tank a hard time, but since she was the one who’d insisted on keeping her relationship with Dad a secret at work, she couldn’t tell Tank.
It was Mom who’d suggested McKenna call her father after she’d quit her job at Pete’s Sporting Goods, explaining that she wanted to start over in a new city. Mom hadn’t been thrilled about the idea, but claimed she’d feel a hell of a lot better knowing that at least in Baltimore, her dad would be nearby.
Dad was thrilled when McKenna told him she was thinking about moving to the city. So much so, he’d talked to Hugh and Benny about the possibility of his daughter with the marketing degree coming to work for the Stingrays. Benny had been in the process of expanding the PR department, so he agreed to interview her.
Benny had assured her countless times that it was her interview that landed her the job, not nepotism, but she wasn’t sure she entirely believed that. It was why she worked her ass off. It was also why she’d asked if Hugh and Benny would keep the nature of her relationship to the coach a secret—at least for a little while. She wanted the time to prove herself capable of doing the job.
Dad was disappointed about not being able to introduce her as his daughter, but he understood, and because they were doing all that eggshell-walking, he agreed.
He always agreed, always held his tongue, always proceeded with caution.
She was grateful to him for letting her take things at her own pace. But she was also kind of fucking done with that.
She just wanted a dad. Wanted her dad.
“Come inside,” he said, when she realized they were still standing in the open doorway.
He led her into the kitchen, putting a kettle on to make hot tea as she sat at the dining room table.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked, joining her at the table while they waited for the water to heat.
She nodded. “Yes, but before I start, I want you to know none of this is Tank’s fault.”
Dad’s expression said he was withholding judgment on that.
“I know you have some reservations about me and him.”
Dad had cornered her at the charity gala, concerned about the fact that McKenna had shown up on Tank’s arm. His reputation had been a big sticking point for Dad, who’d gently tried to insist Tank wasn’t right for her, and that she shouldn’t get involved with him. It was the first crack in their eggshells, the first time Dad had asserted that someone wasn’t good enough for his daughter.
McKenna had been touched, and she’d quickly reassured him there wasn’t anything going on between her and Tank. Because at the time, there wasn’t. She’d been directed to attend that gala with him as his keeper, and when she told Dad that, he was visibly relieved.
Or at least he had been…until she’d nearly fucked up and let Tank kiss her on the dance floor.
Then a week later, they launched the fake dating scheme. Dad hadn’t approached her again about Tank, something that actually stressed her out, because she was afraid he thought she’d lied to him at the gala.
And his silence on the subject definitely couldn’t be construed as acceptance. Because shortly after the gala, Dad started riding Tank’s ass—who didn’t have a clue that the only thing he’d done wrong was date her.
“Kenny,” Dad said, using the nickname that had just sort of appeared during one of his college visits. It slipped out by accident one day during lunch, and that was when Dad admitted he’d always thought of her as his little Kenny, ever since she was a baby. She told him she liked the nickname, and from that point on, he continued using it. Now that she thought about it, perhaps that was the first eggshell cracking. “I know guys like Tank. Hell, I was a guy like Tank. He’s only looking for a good time, not forever. I don’t want to see you get hur?—”
He stopped mid-word, taking in her puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Obviously, she’d already been hurt.
“Tank didn’t hurt me.”
Dad crossed his arms, tilting his head in obvious disbelief.
“I mean, I am hurting, but that’s on me. I know it looks like Tank and I are in a relationship, but the truth is, that was Benny’s doing. He thought it might help repair Tank’s reputation if he appeared to be in a committed relationship with…” She sighed. “A nice woman. So we’ve been fake dating.”
Dad scowled. “I’m going to have a word with Benny. I don’t think forcing you to date a hockey player is part of your damn job description?—”
