Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

QUINN

"Look, Just Quinn! Watch!"

"Wow! That's awesome!" I say for the tenth time in as many minutes.

I don't know how parents sit around and watch their kids jump off the same piece of playground equipment thirty times in a row and act amazed each time. Well, to be fair, I don't know how parents do this at all. I've only been with Flora for two weeks and I am beat. I wake up exhausted and go to bed even more worn out. And she's not even as rambunctious as other children her age. Compared to them, she's a walk in the park.

As tired as I am, I wouldn't trade it. I've been enjoying my time with her far more than I've ever enjoyed any other job, and it's even had me looking into courses to see what it would take to do something like this for a living. Then, of course, all my past failures come barreling into the forefront of my mind, and I click out of the browser before I let myself dream too much.

Flora jumps off the top again, then races to the stairs to do it again.

"How is she not tired yet?" I mutter.

"Because kids have an infinite amount of energy," a woman says as she takes the empty spot next to me. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all." I scoot over to give her more room on the small bench I've been occupying for the last thirty minutes.

It's Monday, and I promised Flora we could go to the park for an hour after school, then grab froyo on the way home to celebrate surviving preseason together. She was thrilled with the idea and told me on the walk here that she didn't even learn anything in class today because she was too focused on watching the clock. I probably should have told her to pay attention in class, but her excitement was so contagious I didn't even care.

"Is this your first time here? Haven't seen you around before," my new seatmate says, her gorgeous emerald and gold snake earrings jostling as she gets situated.

I nod. "That obvious? "

She pinches her thumb and forefinger together. "Maybe a little."

I laugh, holding my hand out to her. "I'm Quinn. I just started nannying that one." I nod to Flora, who is again jumping off the platform by the slide.

"Gina, mom to that one over there." She points to a little girl who is on the swings and kicking her legs like her little life depends on it.

"She's adorable."

" Rotten is what she is," Gina says with a smile. "Is this your first nannying job?"

"It is."

"And how's that going for you? Ready to pull your hair out yet?"

Now I'm the one to pinch my thumb and forefinger together. "Maybe a little."

She laughs. "I can't say it gets any easier, but you do get used to it. Waverly is my fourth, youngest, and final baby. She's a breeze compared to my other children."

"Four children? Gosh, I must sound like such a wimp complaining about one."

"Not at all. No caretaker is exempt from how tough it can be. Unless, of course, you're nannying for that man because good god ."

I peek over my shoulder in the direction Gina is looking, my eyes going right to the man I've barely seen for the last week while he was on the road.

Hayes.

His hands are tucked into his jean pockets, his hair is perfectly messy, and his beard is still in need of a trim. Even so, he looks like he just walked off the set of a photoshoot instead of leaving the rink where I know he's been all day, the Seattle Serpents t-shirt he's wearing proof.

Preseason was a success—as were my first overnights alone with Flora—and now Hayes is back for a few days before the regular season kicks off with a three-game homestand. While I'm sure Flora will be happy he'll be around more, I'm honestly not sure how I feel about it, especially after The Kiss .

It's been on a nonstop loop for the last two weeks every time I close my eyes, and I can't shake it. Can't stop thinking about how desperate I was for his touch. How he kissed me with such ferocity I swear my lips were still swollen the next day. The way his body felt against mine, heavy and warm like the perfect blanket on a cold winter night, like he was everything I didn't know I was missing all these years.

Then I remember the look in his eyes. The mortification. The remorse. The utter disappointment. As much as I wanted it, it was wrong. We shouldn't have done it. And I should have come to my senses a lot sooner than I did, certainly long before I wrapped my leg around his waist and dry-humped him.

I don't know Hutch and Auden all that well, but I could have kissed them for coming home when they did and putting a stop to it because I have no doubt our clothes would most certainly have come off if they hadn't interrupted. I cannot repeat the mistake of sleeping with my boss. I need this job far too much to let something like my unchained libido get in the way. So what if Hayes is easily the hottest man I've ever seen? I cannot and will not climb him like a tree…even if I really, really want to.

He must feel my stare on him, because when he looks up, our eyes collide, and I swear I see his brows cinch together more. I'm relieved by it. It's better than what I've been getting since The Kiss , which has been him fleeing from every room I enter and ensuring we are never, ever together alone. At least if he's scowling at me, he's back to not liking me. I can live with that.

"Oh, boy. That is the man you're nannying for," Gina says, her voice all breathy now, and I don't entirely blame her. "You're right. I don't feel bad for you at all."

I chuckle as Hayes approaches, his tall frame casting a shadow over us.

"What are you doing here?" I ask .

Is he here to check up on me? To see if I'm taking care of Flora okay? To make sure I'm doing my job?

He shrugs. "Called it good on practice a bit early, and I saw your text. Figured I'd stop by."

He looks over at Gina, then does something I'm not expecting—he smiles. And not just a small, Hey there sort of smile. It's a real smile—a big one. The kind I bet he's used many times on many women before. One he has a hell of a track record with.

"Hey," he says smoothly, still grinning. "I'm Hayes. Nice to meet you…"

"Gina," she offers with a smile of her own. "You're not Hayes as in Adam Hayes, are you?"

"Depends on who's asking." He winks.

He fucking winks! He's flirting with her. He's being playful. He's being…well, fun.

What the hell? Am I in some sort of alternate universe? The Hayes I know doesn't do that. He just sulks. Am I… Am I the reason he's like that?

Gina throws her head back with a laugh. "Oh, you're slick. I like that. My husband probably wouldn't, but I do. He's a big fan, by the way."

"Yeah? Here." He reaches behind him, producing a hat he must have had stashed in his back pocket. "Take this, then."

"You…what?" Her jaw drops as she takes it from his outstretched hand. "My husband is going to faint. Ha ng on, I think I have a pen somewhere if you wouldn't mind signing it."

"Not at all."

As she digs around in her bag, Hayes looks out to the playground, searching for Flora, I presume. I can tell the moment he spots her, his megawatt grin back in an instant. He's not here to check up on me. He's simply here for Flora.

"Oh, found one!" Gina exclaims, shoving a pen Hayes's way.

"Great." He takes it and scribbles his name across the bill of the hat, then hands them both back to Gina. "You guys got tickets to the home opener on Saturday?"

She shakes her head. "We have four children. We can't afford that."

"Well, here, let me give you this number." He reaches behind him again, this time producing his wallet, then pulls out a card and hands it to her. "Call this guy and tell him I said to give you as many tickets as you need for the game, and we'll make it happen."

"Holy shit." She grabs her chest. "You're about to give me a heart attack."

Hayes laughs. "Don't do that. Then you won't be able to see us win on Saturday."

He winks again, and I swear Gina swoons.

"Mom! I have to pee!" A little girl who looks like a mini Gina comes rushing over. "Hurry! I'm gonna pee my big-girl panties, and if I do that, I won't get ice cream, and I really want ice cream!"

Gina rises to her feet with a huff. "Duty calls." She looks at Hayes. "Thank you so much for your kindness. It…" Her eyes shine with emotion. "Well, it means a lot. These last few months…they've been so difficult, and this kind of thing never happens to us." She turns her attention to me. "You lucky girl, you."

I laugh. "It was great meeting you, Gina. Maybe we'll see you around sometime."

"I'm here nearly every day," she says as her daughter grabs her hand and drags her toward the bathrooms. She rolls her eyes, then gives us a wave before rushing along so there are no accidents.

Hayes takes the spot she's abandoned, and I bet passersby are getting quite a laugh seeing the two of us together with how giant he looks on the small bench.

"That was really nice of you," I say after a few quiet moments.

He shrugs like it's no big deal when it clearly is. He could have ignored her or lied about who he is or any number of things, but instead, he not only gave her a signed hat but also her whole family tickets. I don't understand how this man who walked over with his eyebrows basically kissing they were pulled so tight is the same man who just did all that. The same man watching Flora play like he's watching the most cinematic masterpiece he's ever seen.

"Do you guys come here a lot?" he asks, his attention still on his niece.

"First time. It's a celebration for surviving preseason."

His lips twitch. "For you or her?"

"Yes."

His chest rumbles with light laughter. "She seems happy. More like a kid."

I nod. "She does. She's still quiet and shy, but I think she's getting there. The first five minutes we were here she wanted to read her book instead of play. I finally coaxed her to go try it with a promise of a movie later tonight, and now I'm not sure how I'll ever peel her away."

"And you?" he asks, turning to me for the first time since he sat down. "You're doing okay? With…well, everything, I mean?"

I try to hide my surprise at him asking about me. "I'm good. It would be a straight lie if I said I was handling this with zero issues and wasn't having approximately five and a half mini panic attacks a day, but I'm managing."

He laughs. "Five and a half? Those are rookie numbers. I was having about five and a half every hour when she first got here. Shit, I still have about ten a day." He runs his hand through his hair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to this."

"Can I ask?—"

He stiffens before I even get the question out, and I instantly start backtracking.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to pry. I?—"

"It's okay. I guess you should probably know if you're going to be sticking around."

He sits back with a sigh, his eyes still tracking his niece as she runs around the playground. He doesn't speak for several tense moments, and when he does, it's not at all the story I was expecting to hear.

"My older brother decided dealing drugs was more fun than being a father. He got busted for running a ring in addition to a whole slew of other charges like assault and gun possession, and now he's serving a life sentence for it. I got a call in the middle of the night about her. Aiden and I hadn't spoken in years aside from his random drug-infused calls where he'd beg for money and I'd tell him to fuck off." He scoffs. "I had no clue she even existed until that phone call."

He… what?

I might not get along with my siblings all the time, but I can't imagine a world where I just didn't talk to them. Or one where I didn't know my nieces and nephews even existed. And for so many years? I can't fathom it.

"I guess her mom skipped out, and when child services tried finding her, they found out she died a few years ago," he continues. "My parents… Well, honestly, I have no idea what happened to them. I left for college, and I never looked back. They haven't been in the picture for a long, long time. I guess Aiden was all she had. I don't know exactly what kind of life she was living before, but whatever it was, it wasn't good. I might not know shit when it comes to kids, but I know for certain she's better off with me than she ever was with that dumbass."

He's clearly upset with his brother, and rightfully so. But there's also a twinge of pain and regret in his voice, and I know there are older wounds there he's not opening.

He rubs a hand over his beard. "Anyway, that's the short version of a very long story. So if you're wondering why Flora and I act like strangers sometimes, it's because we are."

"You're not strangers, Hayes. You're her family. That means something."

"In my experience, family doesn't mean shit."

"Family isn't always about the actual family we're born into. It's about the people we choose to let into our lives, the people we choose to love. And you're clearly choosing to love Flora, so, yeah, it does still mean something."

He swallows thickly, then nods once but doesn't say anything more, though I know there is more. There has to be. Nobody makes a statement like Family doesn't mean shit without a story to tell. I want to know his story more than I've ever wanted to know anything before, but it's not my business to ask.

"Uncle Adam!"

We both swing our heads to the tiny voice and find Flora running full speed toward us. Her long dark hair—which I assume she got from her mother or father—flows behind her, the ponytail I put it in before I sent her off to play long since destroyed. She races right up to him, skidding to a stop before running into his knees.

"I didn't know you were coming," she says between choppy breaths.

"Yep. I got off work early today, so I figured I'd swing by and crash your girls' afternoon. That okay?"

She nods several times. "You can come get frozen yogurt with us."

He looks at me, one eyebrow cocked. "Dessert before dinner, huh?"

I lift a shoulder. "I told you—we're celebrating."

His lips twitch. "Seems like a good enough reason for me." He turns back to Flora. "Let me guess, chocolate with extra sprinkles?"

" And a cherry," she says with a grin.

"Wow. Big plans, huh? Well, then come on." He rises from the bench, taking her hand in his, and I follow behind them. "Let's go get some froyo, then dinner, since I guess we're doing things backward tonight."

"Can we have grilled cheese for dinner?"

He looks over at me, probably because he's hardly been home lately and likely has no idea what we do and don't have in the fridge. I mimic holding a shopping cart and grabbing things off the shelf like that old dance move.

He tips his head with a grin. What? he mouths.

I roll my eyes. Shopping , I say back.

He nods, finally understanding, then says to Flora, "We'll have to swing by the grocery store, but I can make that happen."

"Sweet," the kid says, and I have to roll my lips together to keep from laughing.

I have no idea where she picked that up, but I love it.

We meander over to the local froyo shop, where Flora piles about a pound of sprinkles—no exaggeration—onto chocolate goodness. I opt for butterscotch and far fewer sprinkles, while Hayes surprises me with his pick—watermelon topped with coconut. I wrinkle my nose at the blend.

"What?" he asks when he notices as we walk slowly to the grocery store, enjoying our treats.

"It's just…watermelon? Really? Out of all the flavors, you get that one?"

"I like watermelon."

"I hate watermelon. And coconut, for that matter."

"Yet you like butterscotch?" he says like it's the most disgusting flavor ever. "You must lead a sad, sad life."

"I don't like watermelon either," Flora announces.

"See?" I say as if that makes my opinion completely valid, even though I know for a fact she just had a watermelon popsicle two days ago.

Hayes shakes his head. "Can't believe you're turning my own niece against me."

"Can't help that I'm cooler than you."

"Yeah, Uncle Adam, Just Quinn is cooler than you."

"Hey! Watch it, or I'll become extra uncool and forget to put pickles in your grilled cheese."

She gasps. "That's… That's… That's not nice!" she sputters at his audacity.

We laugh at her, and warmth spreads through me. For the first time since The Kiss , things feel good. Normal. Natural. And a lot like something I could get far too used to if I let myself.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Not a damn thing." Hayes grabs the order separator, moving it down the belt and behind my stuff for the third time.

I stomp my foot, well aware that I probably look more like a seven-year-old than the actual seven-year-old standing next to me, but I don't care.

"Stop moving it."

"No," he answers simply.

I grab the separator again, but before I can get far, Hayes snatches it out of the air, stopping me. I yank on it with a grunt. He yanks back. And I go right along with it.

Suddenly, Hayes is right there , his nose barely ghosting over the tip of mine. Having him this close reminds me of the last time he was this close, when he was on top of me, kissing me senseless, when I rocked my hips against him like some wanton girl unable to control herself.

"Knock it off," he growls, and it does nothing to clear the images from my mind. "This is included in your job."

"We never discussed that. We?—"

"Well, I'm changing the fucking rules," he argues. "So put your damn groceries with mine and stop arguing, or I swear, I'll?—"

"What, Hayes? What will you do?"

He grins wolfishly, his light eyes flashing with something I can't quite put my finger on.

"Oh, Quinn," he says, his voice low and throaty. "I doubt you want me to answer that question in public, especially with little ears around."

He flicks his eyes down to Flora, who is watching us intently, which means she's also watching me make a complete ass of myself because I'm too stubborn to let her uncle pay for my groceries. He shouldn't be the one paying for my stuff given how much he's paying me to take care of his niece. I did some research, and he's overpaying me by a lot, especially with how little experience I have doing this. With fifty grand sitting in my bank account, the least I can do is pay for my own groceries. If not for the sake of my pride, simply so I don't go and do something reckless like spend it on clothes or shoes or handbags I really don't need given the overloaded storage shed I'm now paying for.

"Fine," I say, releasing the order separator, still glowering at him. "But we're not done with this conversation."

He just laughs at my response, then proceeds to pay for the entire order, all the while flirting with the woman behind the register who keeps shooting daggers my way whenever he's not paying attention. After yet another fight, he oh so graciously allows me to help him carry the groceries back to the house. We follow behind Flora as she carries nothing but her jar of pickles, an extra pep to her step that wasn't there earlier.

"This is a terrible place to put this," I mutter as I slide a jar of pasta sauce onto a shelf that's way too high.

Hayes sighs, the paper bag crinkling as he pulls out more groceries. "And where do you suggest I put it?"

"Um, not so high that I need a step stool." I spin to face him. "Ooh! Can I rearrange your kitchen?"

He scowls. "No."

"Booo!"

"Booo!" Flora echoes from her spot at the kitchen table, where she's been coloring since we got home.

I laugh. "At least she's on my side."

"Still bullshi—poop"—Hayes catches himself at the last minute—"that you've turned my niece against me."

"She didn't. I still like you, Uncle Adam. "

"Yeah, she still likes you, Uncle Adam," I confirm, and I don't miss the way his eyes darken when I tease him.

"I just like Just Quinn more."

She says it so casually I can't help but laugh loudly.

"What are you laughing at?" Hayes glowers at me, but I can see a twinkle in his eyes that wasn't there when I first met him.

I suspect this ordeal with Flora has changed each of them in ways they never anticipated, and the versions I'm starting to see are much closer to who they truly are.

I finish unpacking the groceries while Hayes takes charge at the stove, spreading butter over way too many slices of bread for just three people, then topping them with far too much cheese before tossing them onto a skillet. He loads one up with pickles, which makes me grin, even though it's disgusting.

When finished, he slides three plates onto the kitchen table—one with pickles, one plain, and one weighed down with three sandwiches. I follow behind him, dumping a handful of chips onto each plate before taking what's become my seat over the last few weeks. We chat over our meal, mostly Flora and me ganging up on Hayes, and then he slips off to do whatever he does while I get the kid ready for bed.

"And that, little flower, is why you don't need the prince to rescue you. You're capable of rescuing yourself just fine. Got it?" I tell her as I close the book I've been reading for the last half hour.

She nods sleepily. "Got it, Just Quinn."

I lean over, nuzzling my nose against her forehead. "Good night."

"Night," she mumbles back as I crawl out of the bed and flip off her bedside lamp.

I tiptoe from the room, closing her door gently. The house is dark and quiet, the faint sound of water the only thing breaking the silence as I pass his room.

I pause.

Hayes is in the shower.

My mind reels with images of what he must look like under the spray, what shape his body must be in after all the training he puts it through for hockey. I bet his ass is perfectly sculpted, and it probably looks incredible as the water droplets slide over it.

God, Quinn, get ahold of yourself. He's your boss, for crying out loud!

I shake away the thoughts, pushing them to the dark corners of my mind that I pretend don't exist, then hurry through the house just as the water shuts off. Hayes finds me ten minutes later, in the kitchen with a mug of tea between my hands while I act like I wasn't just picturing him naked.

"Just got off the phone with my guy," Hayes says as he pads into the room, looking entirely too good in a pair of black sleep pants that leave little to the imagination and a plain gray t-shirt that makes his eyes pop. "That lady at the park today?—"

"Gina," I provide, taking a drink from my tea.

"—she claimed the tickets. I guess we'll be seeing them in the stands Saturday night."

" We'll be seeing them?"

"Yes. You and Flora are coming to my game, right?"

"I…I didn't know we were invited."

His brows are like magnets, always pulling together, inching inward once again. "Of course you're invited. Why wouldn't you be?"

I lift a shoulder. "I don't know. I just thought…"

I don't finish my sentence because I don't know what I thought. I figured he'd maybe want Flora there, but I didn't realize that would automatically mean I would have to go too. I'm not opposed to it. I love hockey, and I've watched Brody play my entire life. But being in the stands for him specifically feels… Well, I don't know exactly how it feels, but just thinking of it makes my lower belly warm.

"It'll, uh, be a first for me." He runs a hand through his still-damp hair. "I've never had anyone in the stands for me before."

" Ever? " The question comes out so incredulously, and I hear it right away. "Sorry. I just… We go to all of Brody's games whenever he comes to town. We've even flown out of state for a few. We…"

I don't finish the sentence because I'm unsure what else to say. I can't imagine that nobody has ever shown up to support him throughout his career.

"The only person who ever cared about my hockey career passed away a few years ago before I got called up to the NHL, so…" Hayes shrugs like it's no big deal, but it's clearly something that bothers him. It's obvious in how his shoulders slink inward and how he drops his head to his chest.

"We'll be there," I promise, and he lifts his head. "We'll be the ones cheering you on."

Hayes doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. His eyes say it all, and right now, they're telling me he's grateful. I think I'd promise him anything if it meant he'd look at me like that again.