Vivian and Pip considered Belle family, so he never let himself think about the way she laughed. Or the way her jeans curved around her hips. Or how she always smelled faintly like cinnamon and something floral that lingered long after she left a room.
Nope. He never thought about that shit.
Or almost never.
Don’t fuck this upwas destined to become his mantra this summer. Which meant he was looking at three months of those four words playing on repeat in his brain.
Fucking awesome.
He had faced down six-foot-four defensemen with worse tempers than his.
He’d skated with a fractured rib.
He’d once blocked a puck with his face—but none of that prepared him for Belle, standing in his kitchen, smiling at him like he was some sort of hero simply because he’d bought his niece some pudding cups.
“Sorry about your shirt,” Belle said, pointing to the chocolate stain. “If you want to give it to me after you change, I can pretreat it like I do all of Pip’s clothes.” Pip returned to the island and her treat, and Belle followed, ruffling his niece’s hair affectionately. “I don’t think Pip’s made it through a single meal without staining her shirt or pants or, a few times, even her socks.”
She laughed, and Victor tried to pretend the sound was annoying, instead of tinkling and musical.
“Okay, little one,” Belle said, her hands on her hips. “Say thank you to Victor for the snack.”
“Thank you, Uncle Vic,” Pip said.
“What do we do after we finish eating?” Belle asked.
Pip picked up the now-empty pudding cup. “Clean up!”
His niece had two volumes—loud and blow-your-eardrums-out. He’d heard his sister give Pip the inside-voice lecture at least a million times, but it never took.
Pip carried her trash to the can, and Belle grabbed a dishcloth, wetting it to wipe down the drops of chocolate on the island. After that, Pip returned to the refrigerator, insisting she was “only looking” when Belle pointed out that another snack would spoil her appetite for dinner.
“Do you think—” Vivian started in a hushed tone meant only for his ears.
“Stop.” Victor knew exactly what she was going to say, so he cut her off. “It’s only three months,” he replied, his voice equally low.
“Three months inAfrica. I’m flying to another continent.”
“You need to be on the dig site to finish the book,” he said, not for the first time.
“I know, but?—”
“No buts. Pip loves it here. She’s got me and the nan—Belle.” His lungs tightened for a second before he forced them to behave. “She’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” she asked, also not for the first time.
“I’m in the off-season, Viv. Training times are flexible and if Belle needs help, I can work out from home. It’s the perfect time.”
Vivian nodded, looking less convinced than he liked. It would be a miracle if she got on the plane at this rate.
“You’re allowed to want things for yourself,” he said gently. “Allowed todothings for yourself.”
Vivian’s shoulders, which had been tight, relaxed a touch, and she smiled. “Okay,” she said, though he could tell that word was more for her than him. “Okay,” she repeated. “I’ll go. Pip has you and Belle. She’s in the best possible hands.”
He appreciated that she felt that way. “I would never let anything happen to her,” he said. “I’d give my life for that kid.”
Vivian nodded. “I know you would. And I love you for it.” She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, then she pulled out her phone. “I need to leave for the airport in half an hour. Let me help you get Pip and Belle settled in their rooms, and then I’ll say goodbye.” Her voice broke on the wordgoodbye. The next thirty minutes were going to be rough for her.
“We’ll FaceTime you every day,” he promised.
