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

What the hell is this? An escort service?

I stare at the screen with an angry brow while a bead of sweat rolls down my back. I reread the text from the team’s manager, making sure our signals aren’t crossed. The nanny agency even sounds like an escort business—The Nanny Roster.

Is it a list of nannies that we can hire to watch our children…or is it a list of nannies that we can hire for other things?

It sounds a little suspicious.

Or maybe I’m just on edge because I’m at my wits’ end with the endless number of nannies I’ve been through lately.

Ellie is a good kid. I know it’s not her that is the issue here.

It’s the women I keep hiring.

Or if you ask them, it’s me. I’m the problem.

I sigh, and it sounds like a growl.

Malaki walks into the media room where we watch film tapes, but apparently, it’s doubling as a hang-out room today. He plops down onto the couch and opens a Gatorade. He gulps it as loud as humanly possible, clearly trying to get my attention, just like my five-year-old daughter would do.

I slowly raise my gaze above my laptop screen and glare at him. “Can I help you?”

“Nope.” He throws his empty Gatorade bottle into the trash halfway across the room and winks after making it. “But I can help you.”

“Doubtful.”

Out of all my teammates, Malaki is the one who makes the most jokes about fucking Ellie’s nannies, and it irritates me because the entire reason most of them leave is because I won’t fuck them.

After looking at The Nanny Roster logo again, I pull my attention back to Malaki. I have no idea why he’s so early. I’m the only one who shows up hours before team practice to hone my skills in silence, but given that my choices are limited and he’s taking up space, I throw him a bone.

I spin my laptop around, and he gets this excited look on his face, like he’s eager to please me.

“What does this website look like to you?” I ask.

Malaki pops up from the couch with too much energy and stalks over to the table. He’s still got that you’re-asking-me-for-advice look on his face, but I don’t comment on it because, yeah, I’m perplexed by it too.

“Well…” He rubs his chin as he peers down at the screen. “My first thought?” he asks. “They’re hot as hell.”

My shoulders tense, and my lips flatten.

“But”—he raises his palm—“the website looks too professional to be what I want it to be.”

“Which is?” I already know the answer.

“My pick of the litter.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I quickly spin the computer around with irritation. “So you think it looks like an escort service too?” A tight breath leaves my chest. “Fucking figures,” I mutter.

Why can’t there be some older, married woman listed that is looking for something to fill her time now that her own children are grown? Someone who would be good with Ellie but also someone I won’t find naked in my shower, waiting for me? Or someone I won’t have to worry will climb into my bed late at night, wearing nothing but some scandalous piece of fabric that she begs for me to peel from her body?

Why is that so hard?

I’m asking for too much. That’s why it’s slim pickings. But I don’t have another choice—I’m a single father without even a fucking second cousin nearby to help.

Malaki leans his elbows onto the table. “I never said it looked like an escort service. I mean, it’d be legit if it were some type of dating site, but again…” He comes around the table and stands over my shoulder. “It’s too professional looking.”

After a few beats of silence, he speaks up again. “Did Kevin send that over? Trying to help you find a nanny?”

I nod. “It’s a new nanny service made strictly for pro athletes.”

“And given you can’t keep a nanny satisfied, he sent it to you,” a voice says from behind.

I peer over my shoulder and glare at Kane. He’s one of our rowdier and younger teammates.

“You make it sound like I give in and fuck them, and then they aren’t pleased.”

“We all wish you’d fuck them. Maybe you’d get that stick out of your ass if you did.”

I slam my laptop shut, and by the time I turn around, Kane is already halfway through the door and heading to the locker room.

Malaki chuckles. “I love it when you two bicker. It’s like foreplay before practice.”

Another scowl, and suddenly, Malaki is on his way to the locker room too.

They’re just as annoying as my nanny situation.

I pull open my phone and linger on the photo of Ellie on my home screen. She’s blowing a bubble with her pink bubblegum, and although our fans consider me to be cold, a bit standoffish, and too focused at times, if there’s anyone who can thaw my hardened heart, it’s her.

I click on Dylan’s name—one of my more mature teammates—and type a text.

He texts back a moment later.

I toss my phone aside and head to practice. Maybe a quick puck to someone’s face will ease my mood.