Skate the Line: A Single Dad Hockey Romance (Blue Devils Hockey Book 2)

I sit outside of the address Sunny had given me and can’t help but be concerned. It’s not far from Ellie’s school—definitely walking distance—and it’s not in a dangerous neighborhood. However, it’s where I’d assume a poor college student would reside while they consumed nothing but Ramen noodles and attended frat parties every night of the week.

In fact, there’s a frat house three houses down, and I can only imagine what those horny nineteen-year-old boys think when they see her bouncing up those cracked, concrete steps every evening after Marco drops her off.

I pull my hood up and exit my truck. I keep my head down as I stride towards the front door.

Faint music slips out from behind it, and I can make out that it’s Taylor Swift—Ellie’s favorite. I am man enough to admit that I know every last word to the song that’s playing—something Ellie is very proud of and something that half the team makes fun of me for.

My knuckles rap against the thin door, but neither my daughter nor Sunny answer. I lean over the rusty railing and look through the window. Gauzy curtains hang in front of the glass, but I can make out my daughter’s bright smile instantly. Her hair is free from her braids, and wavy pieces of it fling around as she dances to the song.

I lose my footing when I see Sunny grab onto Ellie’s hand and spin her around until she’s holding her belly with laughter. Sunny’s smile matches Ellie’s, and something warm comes over me.

I step away and clear my throat.

The guys referred to Sunny as a hot burst of sunshine—emphasis on the word hot.

I refused to agree, because she’s Ellie’s nanny, making her my employee, but I will say that she reminds me of sunshine. Her smile is bright, and so far, everyone that I’ve known to come in direct contact with her ends up a little more cheerful than before. Ellie, Marco, the fucking security guard from my game… Even Scottie, Emory’s wife, mentioned that Sunny had hit it off with the rest of the wives and significant others in the box seats.

I sigh and knock again.

No answer.

I’m not one to invade someone’s privacy, but considering I can hear Taylor Swift blasting throughout the small house, I turn the doorknob, only for the door not to budge.

The handle turns, so I know it’s unlocked.

But stuck?

It doesn’t take much of a nudge from my shoulder for the door to make way. Something topples over near my feet when I step inside.

A chair?

Uncertainty slices through me. I check the doorknob from the inside and twist the lock.

It doesn’t work.

I frown.

That’s unsettling.

“Hello?” I shout.

I stay near the door and eye Ellie’s backpack resting on the floor beside her shoes. Right beside hers are Sunny’s.

The place is tiny. I can see directly into the living room where they were just dancing. Now, they’re nowhere to be found.

I move a little farther into the house. My finger hovers over a Bluetooth speaker to silence it, and that’s when I see them.

They’re both on the kitchen floor, sitting cross-legged. Ellie’s back is to me, but I can tell she’s working furiously on something. Sunny sits beside her and watches her closely with her lips formed into a soft smile.

She’s alluring.

I bet she tastes like honey.

My throat bobs.

That was a wild thought.

I crack my neck, shake myself out of the spell Taylor Swift’s love song just put me under, and hit pause on the speaker.

Sunny snaps her head to me and jumps in front of Ellie.

I’m taken aback with surprise from her sudden protectiveness over my daughter.

It’s only after a few seconds that Sunny’s defensive stance loosens, and she places her hand over her rising chest. “Rhodes.”

“Daddy!” Ellie zips past Sunny with a wet paintbrush in her hand and moves to hug my leg. At the last second, Sunny plucks the paintbrush out of her hand and holds it up high.

“That’s not washable paint,” she laughs.

I wouldn’t care if Ellie got paint on my clothing, but I don’t blame Sunny for assuming I would. After all, I’ve been nothing but callous since hiring her.

“Hi, Printsessa,” I mutter.

“Look what Sunny made!” Ellie tugs me farther into the kitchen.

It’s so tight I hardly fit.

Sunny squeezes past me and disappears. I glance at the mess on the floor and try to make sense of it.

“What…is it?” I ask my daughter, confused.

“Beads. Sunny is an artist! Did you know that? She’s letting me paint them!”

Oh. I did not know that.

“Beads? For…?” My sentence trails when Ellie’s cheeks puff up with air.

She rolls her eyes.

I swear to god, girls are born with that ability.

“To make friendship bracelets! Duh!”

Guess I should have just known that by her tone of voice.

“Alright, well go ahead and finish the last bead before we head home.”

Ellie drops my hand and plops back down. There’s a thick slab of clay off to the side where Sunny was sitting, various colors of paints, paintbrushes, and some household things that are probably being repurposed as tools for the clay.

I walk back the way I came—so a total of three strides—and end up near the front door.

Sunny is bent over, fiddling with the lock that I’ve already learned is broken. I can’t help but drop my attention to her tight jeans.

I look away as soon as I realize what I’m doing.

“It’s broken,” I say.

I lean against the wall that separates the living room and entryway. I cross my arms and act nonchalant, though I’m uneasy thinking about her living in a place that doesn’t even have a lock.

I was a horny college kid once.

I had a lot more restraint than most, but it would be too easy for one of them to slip right inside and pursue her.

Apparently, I’m just a horny single dad now.

“I know.” Sunny taps the cheap chair that I easily shoved off to the side when coming inside. “That’s why I had this propped against the door.”

“I knocked,” I add. “But you didn’t answer, so I walked in.”

Her lip disappears into her mouth, and she nibbles on it.

I point to the chair. “That means your little security system doesn’t work.”

A laugh erupts from her. “Obviously.”

I step forward. “Would you like me to fix the lock for you?”

Otherwise, you’re coming with us.

“Oh.” She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m only here for a couple more days.”

I wait for more of an explanation.

She waves her clay-covered hand around. “It’s an Airbnb.”

Wait, what? She doesn’t have a place that’s hers?

“So for the next two days, you’re not going to lock the door?” I stare at her with disappointment.

“I’ll…um…” She glances around. “I’ll use this!” She pats the couch and smiles.

She’s quick on her feet. I’ll give her that.

I can’t help but chuckle as I imagine her small frame pushing at the couch until it reaches the door, then doing it again when she needs to leave the house.

Sunny’s lips twitch, but she does a good job at keeping the bravery going.

I shake my head. “Try again.”

“Excuse me?” Her arms cross, and she pops a hip.

It’s sort of cute when she tries to stand up to me. I think I like it. It’s refreshing.

“I can’t have you living in a place that doesn’t even have a working lock.”

I leave her—and the confusion she’s obviously working through from my suddenly caring heart—and begin to walk around the place. Something is shoved underneath one of the windows. A blanket? I assume it’s to keep the cold out. Or maybe it’s another one of her clever security measures.

Right past the kitchen, where Ellie is surprisingly still concentrating on painting, I move to a door. I slowly push against the wood and peek inside. There’s a mattress on the floor and an open suitcase. There’s another window off to the right with pillows propped up against it, probably to block the wind.

I do one more sweep of the area but backtrack when I see something black on the floor.

Her bra.

A lacy one.

I desperately try to erase the image from my head and end up back near the front door where Sunny is trying to scoot the couch.

“Can you gather your things?”

Sunny turns. “Oh, her things are⁠—”

She pauses when she realizes Ellie is still in the kitchen.

Her soft gaze turns skeptical. “Are you talking to me?”

She points at herself, and I nod.

“You’re not staying here.”

There it is. A subtle eye roll. “You’re just as bad as Marco. I’m fine, Mr. Volkova. I promise.”

Rubbing my palm against my jaw, I chuckle. “I’m sorry. Let me rephrase…”

Her forehead furrows.

“Get your things, Ms. Edwards, because you are not staying here.”

Am I being bossy? Sure.

But I am her boss.

She smiles, but I’m almost certain it’s sarcastic. She leans against the couch and crosses her arms. “And where would you like me to go?”

“My place.” Where else?

Her smile falls.

The air in the room shifts.

“No.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because…” She drags the word out while she probably tries to come up with a good excuse.

“You’d feel safer here versus my home? I can assure you that it’s safe. Otherwise, my daughter wouldn’t be living there.”

Her eyes dart towards the kitchen.

This is the first time I’ve ever seen her…ruffled.

“It’s not that,” she mutters.

“Then what is it?”

Her shoulders drop in defeat, and she swings her gaze back to me. “I don’t understand.” Her face screws with confusion. “You scold me for wearing your jersey, and you’re so against a nanny coming onto you.” She glances toward Ellie in the kitchen and lowers her voice. “Yet, now you want me to live in your house? What? You finally trust me now?”

If I’m not mistaken, she’s changing the subject and turning this around on me.

I let her, though, because clearly, whatever has her all tripped up is something she’s keeping close to the chest.

It’s not my business, so I don’t press.

“If I say yes, will you agree?”

The room is wound tight. Pressure falls to my shoulders while I wait for her answer.

I impulsively decide to be honest with her. I shove my hands into my pockets. “You’re the first nanny I’ve ever had that I feel like I can trust, Ms. Edwards. Ellie likes you.” And I guess I do too. “Now that we have you, we’re not letting you go. So it’s either you let me put you up in some penthouse with a real security system, or you move into my house where I can assure you the heater works, you’ll have your own bathroom, and I’ll put a lock on your bedroom door if that’s the issue here. We can even add it into the contract.” I inhale a breath because I’m beginning to sound desperate. “It would make things a lot easier for me, if I’m being honest.”

Something flashes across her face. Where I normally see smile lines, I see worry ones instead. I leave her to think it over while I go check on Ellie. I tell her to wash her hands since she’s nearly done painting, and when I come back toward the front door, I catch Sunny’s eye.

“Okay,” she says.

Okay? That’s a yes.

Her shaky breath fills the small area, and she nods to herself.

“I’ll send Marco to grab you before dinner.”

That gives her time to gather her things and me time to get the guest room ready. The last time anyone was in that room was when Ellie decided to hide from one of the nannies…for three hours.

“We will see you in a few.” I grab Ellie’s backpack.

After she says a quick goodbye to Sunny, we make it outside before she glances up at me. “Do you have a game tonight?”

“As if you don’t have the schedule memorized.”

She puckers her lips and climbs into the backseat of my truck. I buckle her into her booster seat. “Then why is Sunny coming over?”

I step back. “She’s going to move in.”

Her little jaw opens.

“She’ll stay in the guest room, and there will be some ground rules,” I add. “We can talk about it when we get home. Just like we are going to talk about what happened at school today with your music teacher.”

Ellie grumbles under her breath, and I know for a fact she learned that from me. That’s the hard thing when you’re a single parent. All their bad habits come from you. I shut her door and glance behind me at the sound of shuffling feet.

A group of jocks, wearing their college letterman jackets, slowly walk past Sunny’s. They’re all looking in the window like a bunch of fucking creeps.

Yeah, she’s definitely not staying here.