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

I salute the tall, skyscraper buildings after I step out of the Uber. The driver looks at me funny, so I salute him too. It could be the fact that I’m decked out in The Art Institute gear from my quick trip into their campus store—a little parting gift—or maybe not.

The cool night air blasts my cheeks as I drag my suitcase behind me and head toward the airport doors. Chicago was a hopeful dream that unfortunately didn’t come true. It seems I was right in my reservations about Celeste and her tarot card reading.

I pull open my phone while standing in line to check my bag to text Ruby with the disappointing news. Except, a strange number is calling.

I hesitate, afraid that it could be the past catching up to me, but it could also be fate calling, so I answer it on a whim.

“Hello?” I move to the side and let a family of four go ahead in the line.

“Sunny.”

My palm covers my other ear so I can hear better. “Yes?”

“It’s Rhodes.”

My heart halts. I’m stunned. Fate?!

“Oh–”

“Are you still in town?”

Technically. “Yes.”

His loud sigh filters through the phone. “Good. You’re up.”

There’s chatter in the background, and it’s hard to hear him, but I’m certain he just threw me a lifeline. Before I can inquire, I hear my text tone go off.

“I sent you the address to my house. I need you there as soon as possible. If you can manage to handle the situation by the time I get there and keep me out of jail, then the job is yours.”

I’m already heading for the airport door with my bag in tow. “See you soon,” I quip.

He hangs up the phone, and I stare at the blank screen for a few seconds and try to crawl through the confusion. Rhodes is every bit of gruff and intimidating, but the way his voice trembled with panic has me hurriedly calling another Uber to head to the address he gave me.

If I can manage to handle the situation and keep him out of jail, then the job is mine?

Say less, Mr. Volkova.

I don’t salute this Uber driver.

Instead, I climb out of the backseat and stare at the tall, luxurious home.

My neck gets a cramp the longer I gaze at the intricate detail of the limestone, and don’t even get me started on the ironclad door.

“Here.” The Uber driver drops my suitcase beside my feet with a thud and scares me out of my stupor.

“Oh, right. Thanks.” I hand him a tip, and he takes off while I drag my suitcase up the concrete stairs.

I rap my knuckles quickly on the door. I’m not sure what to expect on the other side. Rhodes didn’t give me much to go on, and although I wanted to text him on the way over, I decided not to because part of me wonders if this is a test. I refuse to fail it, so whatever is on the other side of this iron, so be it.

There’s no answer, which puzzles me.

I walk back down the steps and leave my suitcase on the porch. I peer up the side of the limestone again. Several windows line the front, and I’m certain it’s considered a historical home. It is beautiful even without seeing it in the daylight. My eyes snag the window on the left, two stories up. There’s a tiny shadow behind the curtain with the dim light of a lamp from behind.

Is she alone?

My heart skips a beat, and I rush up the stairs again.

I knock again and again. No answer.

Bending at the knees, I lift up the rug to see if there’s a spare key, but then I hear the creaking of iron.

“May I help you?”

I expected a little girl to appear.

Not a woman who doesn’t look much older than me, and especially not one who has a look of displeasure curved in her features.

Springing into action, I stand quickly and pretend I know what I’m doing.

“Yeah, hi. I’m here to take over care for Mr. Volkova’s daughter.”

Shit, I don’t even know her name!

Shock moves across her face.

“Oh? I wasn’t told someone was coming to relieve me of my duties.”

I smile sweetly because my nana always said that you get much further in life when you’re kind, even if you want to be a bitch.

“Yes, Mr. Volkova called me just a little while ago and asked me to head over.”

The woman eyes me cautiously. I eye her with complete skepticism. She has bleach-blonde hair that’s in desperate need of some conditioner and eyelashes that look like caterpillars.

My gut tells me there’s something weird going on, and with Rhodes’s warning of keeping him out of jail, I run with it.

I reach forward and gently pat her hand, gripping the door. “I suggest you leave before Mr. Volkova arrives.”

“And why is that?” she snaps, proving my gut right.

“Because if he gets here before you leave, he’ll end up in jail, and well…” I make a worried face. “I’m not sure where that leaves you.”

I slide my foot forward in case she tries to slam the door in my face, but she doesn’t. She appears a moment later with her purse in her hand and rushes past me, proving her guilty of something.

I don’t linger long.

I grab my suitcase and enter through the door. It’s dark inside except for a little lamp off to the side in the living room. The entryway opens up to a wide set of dark stairs that wrap around to several floors. Locking the door behind me, I slip off my shoes and start to head up the stairs.

“Hello?”

Listening carefully, I hear nothing. From the looks of the shadowy figure through the wispy curtain I’d seen while on the sidewalk, I think she’s on the second floor.

I turn to the right. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Scottie?!”

I breathe out a held breath. “I’m Sunny,” I say softly.

A light is peeking from below the crack near the floor, and I smile to myself at the pink and purple hearts taped all over the front of her door.

In an attempt not to scare her, I let her know who I am. “Your dad called and asked me to come over. Can I come in?”

My hand is on the doorknob, but I know how kids like to have some control, so I wait until she answers me.

“You can try.”

I can try? Is that a threat?

I turn the doorknob, but it doesn’t move. My fingers wrap tighter around the black knob, and I wiggle it again.

“Is it stuck?” I ask, confused.

“Locked.” Her little voice is closer, and she sounds scared. “Where is Ginny?”

“Ginny?” From Harry Potter?

If Rhodes is watching me from somewhere and thinks this is a funny test of my nanny skills, I may just head back to Washington regardless, because really?

“The new nanny my daddy hired. She locked me in here.”

My jaw drops.

I instantly regret letting her walk out the door without tripping her first.

“She locked you in here?” I repeat.

My fingers fly to my mouth. I turn around and try to find a key somewhere, but there’s nothing around except a Chicago Blue Devils night-light plugged into the outlet along the hallway wall.

“Okay, don’t worry,” I say through the crack of the door. “Grumpy Ginny is gone.” I try to lighten the mood to maybe make her feel a little less scared. “I’ll get you out, Rapunzel.”

“Rapunzel?” she gasps. “That’s not my name.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the story of Rapunzel? The old witch locks her away.”

“My name is Ellie,” she says.

Instead of looking for the key or for tools in this mansion-like home and leaving Ellie alone, I open up my crossbody and pull out my debit card. While sliding it in between the doorjamb and lock, I continue to talk to her.

“Hi, Ellie. I’m Sunny. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Are you my daddy’s friend?” She pauses. “Because he doesn’t really have friends.”

I laugh out loud and continue working with my debit card.

“And I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

The lock finally gives, and I use my elbow to turn the doorknob while pushing the door in. “Whew,” I blow out a breath and nearly tumble on top of Rhodes’s daughter.

Her eyes are wide with fear, but all it takes is one smile from me, and her shoulders relax.

“Are you okay?” I get down on her level.

Her lip wobbles, and my heart aches.

“I’m okay,” she answers softly.

Oh. She’s a tough one. Her chin dips as she tries to hide her emotions, and I give her the grace she needs until she pulls herself together and meets my eye again.

I hold my hand out. “Hi, Rapunzel. I’m Sunny.”

Her eyebrows fold in on themselves, and a little giggle falls from her mouth. “I’m not Rapunzel! I’m Ellie.”

I smile at her, and she does the same.

“What do you say we go down to the kitchen for a little midnight snack, and you can tell me all about that evil witch who locked you in here.”

Her pretty eyes linger on me for a few seconds, like she’s trying to figure out if she wants to trust me.

Eventually, she gives in to the thought and slips past me. I let her take the lead because, after being locked inside her bedroom, I’m certain she’s a little distrusting.

That’s something she and I have in common.