“HOTSHOT!” is the only warning I have before a tiny bundle of clothing—my sweatshirt by the way it engulfs her entirebody—launches itself into my arms, nearly knocking me off balance.
Instead of letting me set her down, she wraps her toned legs around my waist, ankles locking behind me, and sinks her fingers into my beard. The scruff is a little out of control this far into the season, but she never seems to mind.
As she finally sits back enough for me to see her face, my heart skips a beat. “You’re really here,” she murmurs before crashing her lips to mine.
I take her lower lip between my teeth, tugging gently as the smell of cinnamon invades my senses. As I release it and trail my lips up and down her face in light kisses, I breathe a sigh of relief. “Told you I’d be here, Katibug.”
She nods frantically, her strawberry-blonde braid bouncing against my shoulder as she tucks her head under my chin. As I run my hand up and down her spine, I finally look to her brother, who is waiting by the entrance of our hometown ice rink. My rink in just a few short weeks.
Noah’s eyebrow ticks up, his finger tapping an imaginary watch.
“Noah’s waiting, baby,” I whisper against her hair.
“You marrying him or me?” she asks, sitting back and giving me a near identical eyebrow lift as Noah just did.
“I love you, goofy girl,” I whisper before pressing my lips to hers once more.
“I love you, too, Silas.”
A shove against my shoulder pulls me back to the present. My knuckles tighten around the beer I don’t remember ordering. Glancing down the bar, I spot Kelly pouring for some of the younger guys. When she looks my way, I tilt the bottle with a slight nod of thanks. I’ll drink half of it, make the rounds, take note of who hasn’t shown up, then slip out to grab Aubrey while Rooks stays behind to play den mother.
It’s Taco Tuesday, and this week’s meat of choice is chicken. Meal nights are one of the ways we’ve bonded over the last few months. Sure, I’ve always been an integral part of my little sister’s life, but that was a few days a month where I’d whisk her to the rink or out for lunch or a slumber party.
After what Oakley Kate and I went through before her twentieth birthday, I gave up on ever being a dad. Now, I have a little girl underfoot 24/7 and most days I worry that my on-the-go life is screwing up her childhood.
“You good, man?” Rooks asks, his hand squeezing my shoulder again.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” I take another sip before sliding the bottle away and tossing a fifty down next to it. Fresh meat pays for drinks, but the vets make sure our bartenders are covered.
Rooker smirks. “You’ve been glancing at the door every few seconds. Not sure if you’re planning your escape or if you’re expecting a certain little lady to walk back in.”
I shake my head in denial, but he’s not wrong. “Why don’t you go save Kelly from Sauls instead of giving me shit?”
Rooks laughs as we watch our youngest teammate, twenty-one-year-old Colton Sauls, trying his hand at flirting.
“Kelly will tell him off if he crosses a line,” he says. “Besides, I think the kid just feels safe with her.”
I hum in agreement as I watch the lanky kid smile up at Kelly as she sets an alcohol-free drink in front of him.
“What’s with all the babies this season?” Kelly calls as she leans across the bar. “I swear I’m surrounded by teenagers with the way they ogle my boobs.”
I sit a little straighter, and Rooker stiffens beside me. It didn’t seem like it, but…
“The pup wasn’t giving you trouble, was he? He’s a good kid, but we’re still house-training him,” I say while glancing at where Colton Sauls still sits, sipping his drink.
She follows our gaze and laughs. “Colton? God, no. He’s a sweetie. Your two new wingers, on the other hand, could use a lesson or two in how to act around women.”
The fact that I know exactly who she’s referring to without having to ask should be enough to make them run sprints at dry practice tomorrow until they puke.
Rooker stalks off to reprimand them as I groan and wipe a hand over the back of my head. Stress begins to tighten the muscles in my shoulders and neck.
Kelly offers a gentle smile. “They’re good kids, Silas. Just a little clueless.”
“Doesn’t give them the right to make you uncomfortable.”
She shrugs. “Maybe not, but as long as they keep their hands to themselves and their words stay polite, I’m capable of handling it.” She glances down to Sauls again, and a soft laugh slips through her lips. “Besides, I think I have my own guard dog in training,” she whispers before getting back to work.
Sure enough, he is watching her again, his back to the wall as he takes in the room. I make a mental note to check in with the kid this week to see how he’s settling in. I don’t know everything, but I know he’s had it rough.
