Scoring Big, page 8
Her eyes pop wide. “Really? Cool!”
“Yeah. She’s going to stay in the spare room.”
“I told you. I can look after you, Daddy.”
“I know you can. But she’ll help. I’m a big guy and I don’t think you can carry me around.”
She snorts. “Carly can’t carry you either.”
I laugh. “True. I’m kidding. But it’ll be good to have another adult here just in case.”
“Okay! We should go buy strawberry ice cream so we have some when she gets here.”
My kid. “That’s a great idea.”
“And let’s save some cookies for her.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. I want to eat them all.”
“Me too.” She makes a cute face. “We can make more.”
“Yeah, we can.”
Sunday can’t come soon enough. I want to see Carly again. I want to ask her to go out tonight. But I’ll be disciplined. I can wait until tomorrow.
I pick her up in my car to transport all her stuff, which is actually minimal. Two big suitcases is it. Considering that’s her life’s possessions, it’s kind of…sad. But she was living with another family for those years in Paris, so I guess she didn’t need furniture and shit like towels and sheets. She’s really starting over.
Quinn tries to help with one of the suitcases, wrestling it out the apartment door, but I pick it up to carry it out the front door and down the steps to the sidewalk. I’m double parked on the narrow street with my flashers on, so we can’t take long.
“My friend Gianna wants to meet you,” Carly tells me. “She’s worried I’m moving in with a serial killer.”
I laugh. “I get it.” I follow her back inside and she introduces me to her friend, a dark-haired beauty who scrutinizes me with narrowed eyes. “Nice to meet you, Gianna.”
“You too. I googled you.”
“Of course you did.” I smile. I have nothing to hide. Other than a few fighting penalties and the time I let Philly score on our empty net in game seven of the playoffs. “This is my daughter, Quinn.”
“Hi, Quinn.” Gianna’s smile is friendlier for her. “Has your father ever been arrested?”
Quinn blinks.
“She’s kidding,” I say, shooting Gianna a mildly reproving look.
“I am,” she agrees.
“My dad’s never been to jail,” Quinn says. “But sometimes he fights.”
Gianna’s eyebrows shoot up.
“In hockey games,” I say. “Not off the ice.”
“Good to know. Do you have any problem if I drop by to visit Carly? Unannounced?”
My lips twitch. “Not at all. Any time.”
“What one item would you save in a fire?”
Huh. After a beat of surprise, I say, “My daughter, obviously.”
“Good answer.”
“Do I pass?”
“I guess so.”
Carly lets out an exasperated laugh. “It’ll be fine, Gianna.”
“It better be.” She gives me a pointed look. “Okay, let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“I will.”
They hug and we head back out to my car. Quinn gets in the back to sit in her booster seat and Carly slides into the front passenger seat. It’s a quick drive to my place. I park in the underground garage and we take Carly’s things up to my apartment. I have a key for her, so I hand that over, and then show her to her room. It’s minimally furnished but it has the necessities—bed, dresser, nightstands, lamps.
Quinn excitedly shows Carly around the rest of the apartment including the linen closet where towels are and my room, which Carly has already seen. I try to catch her eye in amusement, but she doesn’t look at me.
“This is where we keep the toilet paper,” Quinn says seriously.
I groan.
Carly nods, equally serious. “That’s important information.”
Then Quinn drags her to her bedroom.
“This is my room,” she announces. “I cleaned it up because Daddy said it was a fucking mess.”
“Quinn!” My exasperation is no doubt evident in my tone and the hand I shove into my hair.
“You said that!” she protests again. “Remember, it doesn’t count if I’m just telling what you said.”
“Okay, I guess we weren’t entirely clear on the rules,” I say. “No F words at all.”
“If I can’t say them, you can’t say them.” She folds her arms and eyes me mutinously.
“I’ll try, too,” I mutter.
“Come see my Harmonia stuff!” Quinn grabs Carly’s hand. From the door, I watch her excitedly chat about the toys, and I watch Carly listen with serious attention.
“This one is really nice,” she says, running fingertips down the doll’s hair.
“It’s my favorite. Also I love Storm.” Quinn holds up the white horse. She lowers her voice. “I sleep with her.”
Carly doesn’t bat a long eyelash. “She’s beautiful.”
“I have all the horses. I like to have contests where they race and jump.”
“I bet Storm is a good jumper.”
“She is, she is. And look! Daddy bought me another hairband.” She bounces over to her dresser and brandishes the brightly-colored strip of fabric.
“Oh, pretty!”
“Do you know how to do beachy waves?” Quinn asks. “You must know. Your hair is wavy.”
“Yes, I know. Do you want me to do your hair like that?”
Quinn clasps her hands together in front of her chest. “Oh yes. I would love, love, love that. Daddy doesn’t know how to do beachy waves.”
No lies detected.
“He had to watch a YouTube video to learn how to do a braid,” Quinn shares.
Carly’s lips twitch.
Then Quinn turns to me. “Can we have ice cream, Daddy? We got it for you,” she adds to Carly. “Strawberry.”
Carly smiles at my daughter and my heart does something funny in my chest. “Oh wow. My favorite! Thank you!”
“Can we have some now?” Quinn asks again.
“Nope. It’s too close to dinner time,” I say. “We’ll have that for dessert.”
Quinn wrinkles her nose but accepts my answer. “I’m going to work on my panda.” She pauses. “It’s a latch hook kit,” she adds for Carly’s benefit. “I love pandas.”
“Cool.”
Carly follows me down the hall to the kitchen. I smile at her. “So…what changed?”
She sighs. “The portable toilet company called and offered me a job. I knew I should take it, but I just couldn’t do it. And I was ready to rent the room from the guy with the bike helmet and underwear. I figured it couldn’t be that bad, right? I’d just buy lots of wipes and clean everything before I touch it. But…” She puckers up her mouth. “That wasn’t really appealing either. And then the girls where I’m staying had a party and since I sleep on the couch I couldn’t go to bed, and I was so tired. I ended up crashing on Lorelei’s bed, but then she and some guy came in and started boinking on the bed right beside me. It was dark and they didn’t know I was there. So. Here I am.”
I try not to laugh at her story. But I have to say this. “I’m glad you’re here, obviously.” I search her face. “But I need to make sure you’re here because you want to be.”
She sighs. “We both know I’m a little desperate. But I love Quinn. So…yeah, I want to be here.”
Relief slides through me. “Okay, good.”
“And it’s only a few weeks. Right?”
“Right.” She’s never going to find a job and an apartment in a few weeks. “But you can stay as long as you need to,” I say. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to find something else. Find the right job. The right place.”
She’s silent for a few beats, then quietly says, “Thanks.”
“So. We didn’t talk money.”
“Right.” A look of discomfort passes over her face, then she squares her shoulders.
“The companies I was looking at were charging nearly a thousand dollars a week, which is for forty hours, but since you’ll be here twenty-four seven, I’ll pay you three thousand a week.” I hesitate. “Is that enough?”
She gapes at me. “Jesus. Yes. That’s too much, Nate. I won’t be working twenty-four seven. I have to sleep.”
“Oh. Right. Well, that’s okay, I don’t mind paying you to sleep.”
She lets out a strangled laugh. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Look, I’m just relieved I have someone here. And it won’t be just Quinn, I might need someone to bring me pain meds for the first few days.”
“I…I…”
I wave a hand. “Deal. Obviously meals are included. You might have to shop for food. I guess we should talk about duties. You have experience at this. I don’t.”
“Okay, yes, it’s good to be up front about expectations.”
We go over things. I already have a cleaning lady, so I don’t expect her to clean, but laundry would be helpful, maybe some cooking right after my surgery. “Or ordering takeout,” I add. “I’m good with that too.”
“I can handle that,” she says dryly, holding up her phone. “What about discipline?”
I blink. “Oh. I’m not really into that kind of kink.”
“What?” She frowns. “No! Not me! Quinn.”
I bark out a laugh and swipe a hand across my forehead. “Right, right.” Christ, I have a one-track mind with her. “Well, Quinn’s pretty good. I’m a believer in consequences.”
She nods. “No spanking.”
“God no!” I stare in horror. “I’d never hit her.”
“Good.”
“The most trouble I have with her is at bedtime.”
“Oh yeah.” She smiles.
“I haven’t been consistent about bedtime during the summer,” I confess. “And she hates going to bed.”
We talk a bit more about Quinn, then I move closer to Carly and murmur, “I’m glad you’re here.” I bend to brush a kiss over her soft mouth.
She steps aside. “Er, that’s another thing we need to talk about.”
I blink. “What?”
“Us.” She waves a hand back and forth between us. “Now that I work for you, we can’t…our relationship needs to be employer and employee. Nothing more.”
My jaw slackens and I stare at her. What?
“You have a daughter,” she adds in a rush. “And it just keeps things clear and simple.”
“Right.” I clear my throat. Thoughts bounce around in my head. I didn’t think of this. Why didn’t I think of this? Probably because I didn’t want to. But she’s right. I guess. No, she is. But…damn. “Well. This is just for a few weeks, though. Right?”
She bites her lip and fuck, that’s so sexy, my groin tightens. I remember what her mouth feels like. Tastes like. “Right.”
“So…after…when this…” I wave my hand like she did. “…business relationship is done, we can pick up where we left off.”
Her eyes are big and shiny, her lips pouty. “Maybe?”
Shit.
“If we’re both still interested,” she adds, her voice sounding a little squeaky. She swallows.
“Well, I’m still interested,” I say assertively.
“Let’s just put that aside for now.” She pushes her hair back and nibbles her lips again. “Just business.”
Fuck. I press my lips together. Finally, I say, “Just business.”
11
CARLY
Well, my new job starts right now. I’m picking Nate up at the clinic where he just had his arthroscopic surgery. Quinn and I spent the day together, going for a walk in the park, getting lunch at Queen of Tarts bakery, and now we’re here.
Nate is woozy and a little pale, hopping on crutches, his knee bandaged beneath the hem of his shorts. Tucked beneath his arm is Shadow, Quinn’s stuffed horse. She gave it to him so he wouldn’t be afraid.
“Call us if you have any questions.” The doctor’s assistant hands me several pages of post op instructions and pain meds. “Pain medications were injected into his knee during the surgery. They’ll wear off in about eight to twelve hours. He can take one of the pain pills then. And Dr. Perez will see him back here in two weeks. There’s a card with date of the appointment in the envelope.”
“Thank you.” I give her a quick smile and help Nate out to the car. We maneuver him into the front seat and I zip around to the driver’s side to get him home as quickly as possible.
“Does it hurt, Daddy?” Quinn asks from the back seat.
“Nah.” He rubs his mouth. “I’m good. Just need to rest a bit.”
I give him a sideways glance, then focus on New York traffic. It’s been a long time since I drove here, and that was minimal. I manage to get us to his apartment without cracking up his BMW, thank God, and then get Nate into bed.
My heart squeezes, seeing this big, fit guy tense with pain, closing his eyes as he stretches out on his bed. I resist the urge to touch his forehead and smooth back his hair. I work for him.
Nate is prepared and I use the bolster he bought to elevate his leg. Then I hasten to the kitchen to get the ice packs. “Every two hours for twenty minutes,” I tell him as I arrange the packs, ignoring the muscles of his legs and the dark hair dusting his skin.
“All righty,” he mumbles.
Quinn climbs onto the bed to lay beside him. “This is for you, Daddy.” She hands him a colorful folded paper.
“Careful, sweetie, don’t jostle your dad’s knee.”
“I’ll be careful.” She eases closer. “I love you, Daddy.”
Oh, my heart.
“What is this?” Nate asks, taking the paper and unfolding it.
“It’s a get well card. Carly and I made it for you.”
He reads her words, use your superpowers and get well soon, and studies the picture of Clover and Shadow she drew. His expression turns misty and he leans over to kiss her forehead. “Thank you, pop tart. I love it.”
My heart expands even more.
I sit in the chair in the bedroom and study the information we were given. He could feel nauseous or even throw up. I gnaw on my bottom lip as I read. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?” I ask. “It says clear liquids are okay, and soup or Jell-o.”
“We bought Jell-o,” Quinn says. “Strawberry! I made it yesterday.”
“Perfect. You’re a great helper.”
“Water,” Nate says.
I fetch that and he has a drink, then sinks back into the pillows.
“Might sleep a little.” He closes his eyes.
“Yeah. That’s probably a good thing. I’ll check on you in a bit. Quinn, do you want to stay here?”
“Yeah.”
But it’s not long before she joins me in the living room.
“Daddy’s asleep,” she says. “Can we watch TV?”
“Sure, let’s do that.”
I make dinner for Quinn and I. Nate doesn’t want food, but he eats a little Jell-o mostly to please Quinn, I think. I keep checking on him, bringing ice packs and fresh water. I check the bandages on his leg. There’s a little blood, but that’s supposedly normal.
Quinn is a sweetheart about going to bed. I expect when she gets more comfortable with me she might make a fuss, but tonight she’s great. Then I check on Nate again.
He’s awake now and his jaw is tight as he shifts on the bed.
“Need the good pain meds?” I ask lightly.
“Fuck. I don’t want to take that shit. People get addicted to it.”
He’s right. But he doesn’t have to suffer. “We’ll be careful,” I say. “You can take Advil between these, and we’ll gradually stretch out the time between the narcotics.”
“Okay,” he grudgingly agrees.
I get him a pill and a glass of water.
“I’m bored,” he grumbles after swallowing it down.
I sit in the chair. “What do you want to do? Watch TV?” He has a big screen television on the wall and the remote is nearby.
“Eh. I don’t know.” He pauses. “I want a steak.”
“Seriously?”
“No. Well, yeah, but no.”
“I can get you some soup.”
He agrees to that and even wants a few crackers with it.
Ten minutes later, he barfs it up.
He makes it to the bathroom on his crutches. My stomach hurts listening to him. Damn, I actually don’t mind looking after people, it comes kind of naturally, but I don’t like it when they’re sick or hurting.
He hobbles back to bed and I help him get settled again.
“Well, so much for picking up where we left off,” he mutters, eyes closed. “That was pretty sexy, huh?”
I laugh. This time I let myself smooth his damp hair back from his forehead.
He sighs.
The poor guy. My throat aches and I want to climb onto the bed like Quinn did and snuggle with him.
But I can’t. He’s my boss.
“Maybe you should take another pain pill,” I say tentatively. “I think you might have lost it when you threw up.”
“Ugh. Right. Okay.”
We do that and he lies back again. “I think your friend likes me.”
I lower my chin. “Gianna?”
“Yeah.”
“Where did that come from?” I grin at the randomness.
“I don’t know. Is she your best friend?”
“Yeah. We went to college together here. My childhood best friend still lives in Buffalo. I had a friend in Paris—Elise. She’s going to come visit some time.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Yes.” I pause. “Who’s your best friend?”
“Brando.”
“Brando?”
The corners of his mouth lift, eyes still closed. “Brandon. Brandon Smith. We call him Brando.”
“Ah. One of your teammates?”
“Yeah. He plays right wing.”
“What position do you play?”
“You don’t know? You googled me.”
“Gianna googled you.”
He opens one eye. “Really.”
“Okay, I did google you. But I don’t remember what position you play.”
He heaves a sigh. “I’m crushed. I play defense.”
