Page 52

“Sure, as long as you come.” Cruz winks in my direction. “To the game, I mean.”

I ball my hands into fists. If I have to listen to him make sexual innuendos all night, I’m going to lose my shit.

Cruz makes his way to the living room and drops down onto the couch, patting the cushion. “Now, come sit down, Phil. We’re gonna teach you some hockey terms, starting with the fact that it’s called the penalty box or the sin bin, not boy jail.”

She drops down next to him. Cruz says something low in Nina’s ear that makes her laugh. I turn my back, yanking open the fridge to stare at the fish taco ingredients for fuck knows how long.

I try to remind myself that it doesn’t matter that I’ll never find out if Nina tastes like cinnamon, or that every time she tucks her hair behind her ear, I get jealous of her fingers.

That’s lust.

Those are physical feelings that will go away when I find the right woman—someone who wants the same things as me. This isn’t anything deep. After the event, I need to get Nina out of my head because I can’t live feeling like I’m about to snap at any moment.

We spend the next hour cooking, and Nina keeps laughing at every fucking thing Cruz says, even though none of it’s funny. By the time dinner’s almost ready, I’m so wound up that I’ve burned at least five tortillas for the tacos.

“What a fucking pigeon!” Cruz shouts at the TV. He’s bouncing Betty on his knee, so they look damn near perfect together. She’s still got on my sweatshirt, though. “Toronto just scored. Wesley’s got a killer slap shot, so you better block ‘em when we play.”

“Language,” Patty groans. “My girl’s gonna have the dirtiest mouth if she keeps hanging around you.”

Nina catches my eye. “There’s nothing wrong with a girl who’s got a dirty mouth. Isn’t that right, Rhode?”

That teasing edge to her voice is going to be my undoing, and I want nothing more than to flirt back, but that’s not fair to either of us.

My traitor cock twitches in my sweats, and this material is way too thin to let that happen, so I subtly adjust myself. “Mm-hm.”

That cute, playful half-smile turns into a frown, and I hate myself a bit for pushing her away, but we’d never work long term.

Cruz gives her a high-five. “Oh shit, I forgot how much I like you, Phil. Don’t you like her, Tremblay?”

I give him my best withering glare, but all that does is make the kid’s grin widen. I’m acting like a grumpy fucker, but I have to stick to one-word answers, so I don’t lose it in front of Cruz.

I don’t know why Nina’s affecting me so much, but this can’t be normal. I’m starting to think it has everything to do with the fact that I need to get laid.

It’s been over a year since I’ve been with a woman, which is the only explanation for why I feel like my chest is about to burst when I look at Nina in my sweatshirt. I’m not going to mistake lust for some deeper emotion. That’s what got my father in trouble.

“Speaking of dirty things.” Cruz gags, lifting Betty in the air. “I think something died in your girl’s diaper, Patty-Daddy. Here. Take her. This stench is offensive.”

Patty holds up his red hands sprinkled with paprika. “Can you help me out? I’ve got seasoning all over me, and I want to make sure the fish doesn’t burn.”

He dangles Betty in the air. “You made her. You change her.”

“I’ll change her. Come here, baby girl.” I’ll take any distraction from Nina at this point, so I grab Betty from Cruz’s lap and sniff her tiny butt, grimacing. “What the hell are you feeding her, Patty? Straight cabbage?”

“It’s the chickpeas. Her digestive system can’t handle them, but she loves them, so I don’t want to deny my girl.” Patty rubs paprika on the mahi-mahi. “Thanks. I think I’ve changed seven, no, maybe eight, diapers today. Can you tell me what color it is too? Actually, just take a picture.”

The things parents do for their children. “Sorry, but I’m not taking a picture of your daughter’s shit.”

Nina stands from my leather couch. “I’ll do it. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life, but I can take a picture. Sounds like it might be a two-person job.”

“You know what else is a two-person job?” Cruz says. “Three people if you’re lucky?”

“Stop talking,” I say to him, facing Nina. “And you don’t have to come. I got this.”

She peers at me with those big, beautiful eyes. “I want to help.”

“Alright, then. Your call.” I hitch Patty’s orange diaper bag over my shoulder, prop Betty on my hip, and head to the guest room with Nina following. Her gaze feels like it’s singeing my back, but I don’t turn around.

I lay out the pink diaper mat with giraffes and set Betty on the soft padding, tickling her belly. She squeals. “Yeah, I’d be smiling too if I were you right now. I bet you feel a million pounds lighter.”