Parental Guidance (A Hot Hockey Romantic Comedy) Page 21

  “Oh, okay…” she said, floundering for words. “I’ll just…” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

  She stumbled back a few steps—heel, flat foot, heel, flat foot—needing to get out of there before she broke down.

  “Zara,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “When was the last time you checked your Bramble app?”

  The question was such a non sequitur that it stopped her backward motion. “I was sad and mad and all of the things, so I got rid of it.”

  “Download it.” He closed the space between them; what had taken her five bumbling steps took him two. “Right now.”

  Hesitating, Zara tried to make sense of the request. They were past the Bramble app, weren’t they? He’d said no. He didn’t want to go on a fifth date. This thing between them, it was done.

  “Zara.” Caleb reached out and took her broken shoe from her grasp. “Trust me.”

  And despite what had just happened and the upheaval making her jittery, she did. So she took her phone out of her purse and tried not to freak out when she saw the red battery alert and the low signal bars. She swiped open the App Store and tapped download again on the Bramble app, not knowing what would happen next but sending up a prayer that it wouldn’t break her.

  …

  Caleb was not a patient man, but even if he had been, this whole thing was taking too long. His palms were getting itchy watching her mess with her phone, but he wasn’t going to use his phone and show her what he’d done, not after what had happened with Helene Carlyle. This wasn’t his play to make. She had to be in charge.

  Zara held up her hand, one finger raised. “Almost there.”

  Thank God. He started to let out the breath he was holding.

  “Yes.” She did an off-balance shimmy dance while the people around them pretending to be oblivious to what was going on pretended not to watch. “Now I just have to log in.”

  He wanted a time machine just so he could go back and smack himself in the head before he came up with such a dumb-ass plan.

  “Shit,” she mumbled. “Wrong password.” She looked up at him, her expression tight. “Let me try again. I’m sure I just typed it incorrectly.” Her fingers shook as she tried it again. When she got denied again, she handed her phone over to him, panic and worry coming off her in waves. “It’s Anchovy. You try it.”

  “Your password is your dog’s name?” He shook his head. One of his sisters was a cyber security consultant. She’d have a field day if she knew.

  “I know it’s dumb, but it’s not like my Bramble account is tied to anything important.” Zara smacked her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, that’s not what I meant.”

  He froze for a second, translating what she’d said into what she’d meant. Yeah, it was a good thing his brain was wired so he was used to having to translate garbage signals. The next few decades were going to be pretty interesting.

  “I know.” He typed in her password, brought up the video on the app’s home screen, and handed her phone back to her. “Press play. I had to make this to explain why I couldn’t complete the five dates I was obligated to go on and why I never would. It’ll only be on your home screen unless you okay it going wide. I mean every word of this, but I didn’t want to pressure you in any way by doing a huge public grand gesture. This is your call.”

  Even though she’d already given him her answer, having to sit back so she could see him ask the question was nerve-racking. The same jittery sizzles that snapped in the air around him before a game had him on alert to every flicker of emotion that crossed Zara’s face. And when she hit play, he sent up a quick prayer that what she was about to watch wouldn’t ruin everything.

  “Hi, everyone, Caleb Stuckey here, and I’m going to tell you why I’m quitting this app and why some of you should not use Bramble—especially not if you’re a professional hockey player just trying to get the world to stop seeing you as a complete bag of dicks,” video him said. “Let me tell you my story so you understand why.”

  She let out a little gasp and plopped down in a nearby chair, her face twisting up, but she kept watching. He crossed his fingers that that was a good sign.

  “First off, my mom—yes, my mom—picked out my date because Bramble has this whole parental-guidance angle to it.” He ignored that asshole in his head telling him his voice sounded weird when he heard it played back and concentrated on watching Zara. “That was bad because who wants their mom picking their hookups? No one. I didn’t have a choice, though, so I went along with it. My date was this pocket-size redhead who didn’t want to be there any more than I did.”

  The first hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and some of the tension in his body began to ebb.

  “We came to a meeting of the minds and developed some rules to get through the whole process with as little pain as possible,” video him said. “One of the rules was no going past date five because this was an arrangement, not a relationship.”

  A deep pink bloomed on her cheeks at the mention of the rules. Then she looked down at her fancy gown, which she looked amazing in, but she looked damn good in everything, including the jeans and T-shirts she normally wore. He tugged at the collar of his tux. Damn. They were not very good at following their own rules.

  Video him wasn’t done, though. “Everything seemed like it was going well, but something awful happened. I’ve dealt with overeager dates, angry fans, and a mom who thinks she knows everything, but I’ve never met anyone like Zara Ambrose. She’s tough, talented, smart, funny, and her dog is a force of nature. All good, right? Well, I fell in love with her, hard, and I didn’t even realize it at first. Who knew that finding the one person you were meant for kind of felt like the stomach flu and like you needed to smack your head against a wall repeatedly? For the uninitiated out there, I don’t recommend falling in love unless you’re made of stern stuff. You will end up in the penalty box—in my case literally and repeatedly—but it’s worth it.”

  She looked up at him then, her full bottom lip starting to tremble, and she reached for him. He didn’t have to be told twice. Taking her hand in his, he sat down next to her, not realizing until then that half of his teammates were gathered around the table where he and Zara were sitting. Each of the guys was watching the phone screen. Caleb sat for a second, waiting to be hit with that awful gut twist of panic from being the center of attention when he was off the ice.

  It never came. It never seemed to when he was with Zara.

  “All I wanted to do was fix my fuckup, get back on the ice, and keep my team together,” video him said. “Then I fell in love and realized that I wanted so much more. Zara, we agreed to five dates, and then we were done. I’m here promising that I will never ever go on that fifth date with you, because I don’t want what we have to end, and I hope you don’t, either. I love you, Zara Ambrose. Now please tell me that you’ll be my girlfriend so we’ll never have to go out on another Bramble date again?”

  The video ended, and he sat there, silent, holding his breath and waiting to see what she’d say. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “I love you, too, Caleb Stuckey, and I’d be more than happy to never ever go on another Bramble date with you in my entire life. There’s no reason to, I already found the person I didn’t know I’d been looking for.”

  There may have been cheering at that point, but he didn’t hear it. The only person who mattered in that moment was Zara, and as he pulled her into his arms for a kiss, he realized that that was how it should be. Together, they fit. They worked. That was love.

  Epilogue

  Three Years Later…

  The Harbor City Wake Up set had changed since the last time Zara and Caleb visited, but there were several people Zara remembered, including Asha Kapoor. The host walked over, her hand planted firmly on her lower back to support the weight of her pregnant belly.

  “Oh, look at you,” Zara said, giving the other woman a hug. “You’re glowing! Pregnancy really
agrees with you.”

  “Not at two in the morning when this one likes to do his acrobatics,” Asha said with a chuckle. “He keeps early-morning-TV hours.”

  “Enjoy even the little bit of sleep you’re getting now. Sometimes it seems like Lizzy has yet to sleep through the night,” Zara said. “She’s a total vampire baby and Anchovy only encourages her. I swear that dog sleeps under her crib just so he can be the first one to respond when she wakes up.”

  “Speaking of your little angel, here she comes, ready to do her interview with Mommy and Daddy,” Asha said before turning to her producer for some last-minute show notes.

  Zara turned around, and her heart sped up just like it always did when she spotted her family. Even after a baby and two years of marriage, she still was hit with wonder every time she saw them. Growing up, she never dreamed she’d get so lucky. Good thing she found just the man to prove her wrong.

  Caleb had done his best to try to get Lizzy’s bright-red cowlick to not stick straight up, but despite the amount of water he must have put on her head, it stubbornly stood sky-high. As soon as Lizzy saw Zara, she let out a squeal and did the drunk toddler stumble walk all the way over, only falling three times before getting to the couch and lifting up her arms in an unspoken demand to be picked up.

  “Come here, cutie pie.” She picked up her daughter and snuggled her in her arms.

  “I see how it is,” Caleb said, sitting down next to her on the couch and giving her a quick kiss that kicked up her pulse rate. “I get splashed in the bathroom, and Mommy gets the cuddling.”

  Lizzy let loose with a little baby giggle and reached for Caleb’s playoff beard.

  “Are Cole and Ian still coming over tonight with their little broods?” she asked. The dads club they’d formed began when each of the players had given newborn jerseys with their own numbers on them instead of the baby’s daddy’s number. The three of them never seemed to get tired of busting one another’s chops.

  “You can’t have your own all-star mighty mites hockey team unless you start early,” Caleb said as he made funny faces at Lizzy. “Cole’s boy might be three, but he’s already skating like his dad.”

  “Somehow I think that might be a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “Okay, he skates like me,” he said, grinning at her. “A defenseman who can’t wait to get home every night to his gorgeous and extremely talented wife and adorable daughter—at least when you two aren’t traveling with me so you can attend another gallery show opening now that your dad has found his true calling as your promo man setting up shows for you.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t heart arrhythmia; she missed a beat every time he said something like that to her, which was pretty much all the time. “Don’t forget we have a couple plans tomorrow.”

  His face got serious. “But it’s not a date.”

  “Of course not—that would be breaking the rules.” She leaned close and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Five dates and it’s all over, remember?”

  “I think I can manage to not date you for at least six more decades,” he said.

  “That sounds like the best plan ever.” And it was. It really, really was.

  The show’s producer finished chatting with Asha and hustled off the set.

  “You two ready for this?” Asha asked, playing a quick game of peekaboo with Lizzy.

  Caleb took Zara’s hand, the touch sending a sizzle of anticipation through her, and they both nodded. Then the cameraman started the countdown, and after five, the red light above the lens clicked on.

  “So,” Asha said, beginning the interview, “it’s been a little over three years since you two sat on this set after your first Bramble date. I have to say, it looks like it went well.”

  Zara didn’t even have to think about it. “Better than I’d ever dared to hope.”

  Turn the page to start reading the next book in the series, Awk-weird!

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  Chapter One

  Tess Gardner was just about all peopled out, but leaving wasn’t an option.

  Standing in the shadow of one of the potted palms along the edges of the Hayes Resort dining room, she sipped her wine and counted down the minutes until she could go up to her room, slip between the ridiculously high thread count sheets at the luxury hotel, and fall back into the book she was reading. They’d barely finished with dessert, and there would be more toasts and lots of dancing celebrating her best friend Lucy’s wedding tomorrow.

  It wasn’t that Tess wasn’t thrilled for Lucy and her soon-to-be husband, Frankie—she was. However, over the course of the past year, Tess had become a seventh wheel in their friend group. Everyone but her had paired up. Now she was standing off to the side at a fancy lodge resort outside Harbor City watching Lucy dance with Frankie, Fallon laugh with Zach, and Gina kiss Ford. It was amazing and awesome and awful all at the same time.

  Her three best friends were moving on without her. Oh, no one would actually say that out loud. In fact, her girls probably didn’t even realize it was happening, but growing up like Tess had, being shuffled from relative to relative like an unwanted familial obligation, had given her a sixth sense about not belonging. Sure, there was still their weekly girls’ night at Paint and Sip, but how much longer would that continue? Not long. So even as she knew she’d stand up as one of Lucy’s bridesmaids tomorrow and be genuinely happy for her friends, she’d be resigning herself to the reality of the situation as well.

  Everyone left. That’s just how life worked.

  Maybe she should get a cat or a dwarf pig or a goat or something to help fill the inevitable friend void. She could name it Kahn and then reenact the great Captain Kirk bellow of “Kahn!” whenever it was time to call it in for dinner. Or she could always go with Darth or Rey. A puppy named Boba Fetch would be pretty funny.

  “Gouda and Edam are cities in what country?” one of the guys gathered around a nearby table asked.

  A group of the Ice Knights hockey players who Lucy worked with as a PR goddess had been sitting there for the past ten minutes playing some trivia app. So far, they’d been doing okay, but it still hurt to hear so many wrong answers get hurled out. This question was a prime example. They were going through every popular city in Italy and France as the app’s timer beep-beeped its way down to the limit.

  “The Netherlands,” she said quietly to herself as she watched Frankie spin Lucy around on the dance floor.

  One of the players, the one with the curly hair who Lucy had introduced as Ian Petrov, called out “The Netherlands” as the answer and then asked the next question to pop up on the app. “What is another name for the star fruit?”

  There was a moment of silence followed by grumbles along the lines of, What the hell is a star fruit and Where are the sports questions?

  “Carambola.” Tess sipped her wine as the information about the fruit scrolled through her head, one word after another, just like it had her entire life.

  The yellow-green fruit originated in Sri Lanka and grew on a small tree that produced bell-shaped blooms that eventually became star fruit. She could go on with more facts and stats. Sometimes, she couldn’t stop her brain. It had always been like this. Factoid after factoid getting downloaded onto a massive mental server that never seemed to fill up and always seemed to come out at the worst times.

  Like now.

  The Thor look-alike Ice Knights player, whom she hadn’t met, must have caught her saying that last answer because he wasn’t laughing at his friends like he’d been doing for the past ten minutes. Instead, he was watching her, assessing her with a calculating gaze as cool as the ice blue of his eyes. Then he winked at her.

  Pulse kicked into high gear, she whipped her head around so her gaze was back on the dance floor, if not her attention.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  The first rule of being the odd woman out was to not be so fucking obvious about it that strangers noticed. And yet, here she was l
urking near a group of people she didn’t know, answering all the trivia questions in a game they were playing without her like a supreme dork. And she’d gotten caught.

  She pulled her phone out of her bag and glanced down at it, hoping it looked like she’d just gotten a text from someone. Was it late enough that she could escape? How much more attention would she draw to herself if she sprinted away like her body was screaming at her to do?

  More than an injured gazelle limping through the lion enclosure at the Harbor City Zoo.

  Take deep breaths. Scroll through old texts from Gina, Lucy, and Fallon. Smile as if you aren’t in a fight-or-flight panic moment right now. In a minute, you can calmly walk away without flagging yourself as being completely and utterly awkweird.

  “Perfecto, torpedo, and parejo are all shapes of what?” asked Ian, reading off the question from the app.

  Before Tess could answer—in her head this time because humiliation was not her kink—Not Thor answered.

  “Cigars,” he said.

  She didn’t mean to look over at him. It just sort of happened. And because this was her life, which was filled with one uncomfortable situation after another, he was staring right at her. Unlike Tess, he didn’t seem to have a single qualm about getting caught watching. The other men at the table groaned, and someone told him to fuck off. He shrugged away the curse and flipped the bird at his buddies, but his gaze never left hers.

  Looking away now would be good, Tess. Go on. Turn your head. Turn it.

  But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Maybe there was something in her wine pinning her to the spot.

  Ian asked, “What was the first name of the real Chef Boyardee?”

  Not Thor raised an eyebrow, challenging her to answer.

  “Hector,” she said, meaning to do so only in a soft whisper, but the combination of the song ending, the wine, and the man who watched her as if she were the most fascinating person in the room made her voice louder than she intended.