Chapter Eleven

B urgess gritted his teeth and growled his way through the final three squats in his set before settling the weighted-down metal bar into its cradle. After getting Lissa off to school this morning, he’d had an early press panel and a lunch meeting with the team owners, followed by a three-hour practice. No one would have looked at Burgess sideways if he’d decided to skip weightlifting, but he’d never cut corners before and he wasn’t going to start now, even if his body was demanding he do just that.

He slapped a hand onto the white cinder block wall and twisted, trying to alleviate the severe throb in his lower back by stretching. Didn’t help. One more set and he’d let himself go home. It wasn’t the grueling workout he used to put himself through, but he’d done enough to maintain his strength.

Maintain?

Since when was that enough?

A memory from a week and a half earlier drifted to the forefront of his mind. Tallulah in the passenger side of his SUV feeling his bicep with a look of astonishment on her incredible face. Although in his version, she dragged her hand downward, giving his thighs the same thorough treatment, gasping over the hard ridges and sinew, teasing him before eventually stroking her palm into his lap and feeling how thick he was there. For her.

Three. He’d do three more sets before he went home.

Burgess swiped a towel over his sweaty hair and tossed it onto a nearby bench, pacing with hands on hips. While putting himself through another three rounds of squats, he didn’t see his image in the mirror at all. Just Tallulah. She’d lived for ten days in his home. All of her things were kept confined to that bedroom. No shoes by the door. No coat on the peg. Yet her presence was everywhere.

In the air.

In his lungs.

Sometimes he caught her staring at him across the apartment and his blood would heat to a fucking boiling point. He’d swear hers was doing the same and tonight was the night she came to his room, stripped at his bedside, and they gave in. But despite those hungry looks, they kept things professional. And by professional, he meant Tallulah was transforming their very lives one genius fix at a time. She didn’t merely talk Lissa down from a ledge when she came home from school after a bad day, she explained to Burgess afterward why her method had worked. She had the inside track to the teenage brain.

Burgess had stumbled on the Holy flipping Grail.

And yeah, she said she’d never cook again, but she continued to make dinner almost every weeknight and enlist their help in the kitchen. A couple of days ago, she’d had too much homework to prepare the meal, so he’d done it with Lissa. Just the two of them. They’d prepared a stir fry from memory and it hadn’t tasted like hot garbage.

In ten short days, life felt different. His kid was happier. He was learning to communicate with her, simply by watching Tallulah. So he should probably be happy with what he had. A harmonious household. A wildly competent au pair.

Though he couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted by a phone call the night he picked her up from the club. When he’d almost kissed her a second time in the cab of his truck, her hand fisted in the front of his shirt. Maybe that kiss would have gotten out of hand. Maybe she would have taken off her lacy black panties, climbed onto his lap, and ridden him in the front seat while the windows fogged up. Hard, fast, letting out urgent little whimpers at the ceiling—

“You seem kind of distracted today, man,” Sig said, leaning against the mirrored wall in front of Burgess. Where the hell had he come from? “What are you thinking about?”

“Next week’s game,” Burgess snapped. “That’s where everyone’s focus should be.”

Sig smirked at him. “You’re forgetting that I met your au pair last Friday.”

Burgess gave him a pointed look. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Why? Now seems like as good a time as any.”

“Hold the fuck up. Burgess has an au pair ?” Mailer emerged from the other side of a partial cinder block wall that separated the weight area from cardio equipment. Of course, Corrigan followed directly in his wake, two sharks homing in on the scent of blood. “Is she French?”

Burgess stared blankly at Sig.

Sig rubbed the center of his forehead. “Sorry, man. That’s why you didn’t want to talk about her. I forgot the rookies hover around you at all times.”

Corrigan slapped a hand down on Burgess’s shoulder. “Like vultures around a rotting carcass.”

“Don’t make me rip your fucking arm off,” Burgess said as calmly as possible.

The rookie took his hand back, snickering nervously.

“So?” Mailer rubbed his hands together. “Is she French?”

Sig groaned up at the ceiling. “You don’t have to be French to be an au pair, you absolute dumbass.”

“Fine,” Mailer said. “What is she? Hot?”

“Yes, Mailer,” Sig replied dryly. “She’s from the Republic of Hotness. Just below France.”

Corrigan slapped his friend in the chest. “Hotness isn’t a nationality.”

“It is in my book,” Mailer said, letting his tongue hang out.

“Your book is just a notepad with a bunch of dick drawings,” Burgess commented.

Mailer and Corrigan doubled over laughing.

Burgess’s back let out a particularly sharp throb and he ground his molars together. “Can you fuck off now and let me finish my workout—”

“I had a nanny for a while growing up,” Corrigan interrupted. “She was in her sixties. But there were some days she looked pretty good. Those were confusing days for me.”

“Every day is a confusing day for you,” Sig quipped.

But the rookie was looking at Burgess.

Both of them were.

As a matter of fact, any time either one of them said something, they turned to get his reaction. Every. Single. Time. Tallulah was right. What exactly did that mean? She’d implied that Lissa did it because his opinion mattered the most, and he’d been... honored to know that. That couldn’t be the case here with Orgasm Donor One and Two, though. They didn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinions but their own. Right?

He wasn’t sure what made him test out the possibility. Maybe he was genuinely curious. Or maybe he simply wanted an excuse to knock on Tallulah’s bedroom door later to tell her she’d been wrong. Whatever the reason, he jerked his chin at the pair and asked, “What do you think of the 1–2–2 forecheck we’ve been using?”

To Burgess’s utter astonishment, Corrigan and Mailer traded an excited glance and snapped to attention, all traces of humor vanished from their faces. “Honestly, we’ve been talking, and it’s too passive for the speed we’ve got now.”

“We’re wasting an extra defenseman when you’ve got the goal covered. We could be forcing more turnovers at the blue line with a 1–3–1.”

Burgess started to give the response he’d been planning before the two doofuses had even given their answer... but he never expected their point of view to have some actual merit. Enough to snap his mouth shut and make him consider what they said. “That’s not a terrible point. I’ll mention it to the coach.”

They looked like they’d just been given the opportunity to drink a beer from the Stanley Cup. “Nice. Thanks. Cool,” Mailer said, visibly with no idea what to do with his hands.

“Thanks, Sir Savage.”

He started to slap Burgess on the shoulder.

Burgess shut it down with a “Nope.”

But when the rookies disappeared back into the cardio area, their heads bent together in a whirlwind of whispers, Burgess couldn’t help but feel a little... humbled.

“Wow.” Sig sauntered closer. “That was off-brand. Are you feeling all right?”

No. The base of his spine was in a vise that grew tighter by the second. “When did we become friends?” Burgess asked, assuming Sig’s question had been rhetorical. “Like at what point did I stop treating you like a rookie asshole?”

Sig answered without hesitating. “My second year in the league. We were on the road in Pittsburgh and the game went to penalties.” Sig shook his head. “I was off that night. I missed my shot by a mile and I guess you were feeling generous because you told me to shake it off. And I told you to get fucked. We were cool after that.”

Burgess barked a rare laugh. “That sounds about right.”

“Doesn’t it?” His brow quirked. “Imagine my surprise a few minutes ago when you gave the Orgasm Donors the time of day. ”

“Tallulah . . .” he started without thinking.

Sig clasped his hands beneath his chin and gasped. “Tallulah, what?”

Burgess sighed at the theatrics. “Nothing, she just said something that made me think.”

“I liked her. Two seconds after meeting her, she was breaking my balls. That’s a hockey player’s dream.” He raised an eyebrow. “How fast are you trying to lock her down?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it.”

“Says the guy who was out at two a.m. picking up his future stepsister.”

“That topic is off the table.” A muscle leapt in Sig’s jaw. “Go back to the nanny. Why is it complicated?”

“You want me to give you a list? One: she works for me, so I’m paying her, plus I’m essentially her landlord, too. There’s a whole issue with that power dynamic. Two: she’s not only younger than me by eleven years, but... she’s young on a whole different level. She’s still excited about life. To me, life is just something I’m being forced to get through.” At least, until Tallulah arrived in Boston. This morning, he’d woken up and wanted to get out of bed. Been eager to find out what the day would bring. “Three... She’s been through some shit that I’m not sensitive enough or equipped to... navigate.”

“Says who? Your ex-wife?” Sig snorted. “Fuck that.”

Burgess did a double take. “Wow. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Few years, actually.”

He caught sight of his expression in the mirrored wall, unsurprised to find confusion written all over his face. Where was this coming from? “The divorce was amicable. We’re friendly.”

Sig grumbled something.

Burgess shoved him in the shoulder. “What was that? Speak up.”

“I said, it might have been amicable...” He crossed his arms, beginning to look pissed. “But you’re the one who walked away shouldering all of the blame.”

“I was always occupied with hockey. All the media attention. The split was my fault.”

“Nah, I don’t see it that way.”

“What?” Burgess was beginning to raise his voice. “You weren’t there.”

“I’ve been here to see the before and after version of you. I don’t think you two were meant to be, but the divorce itself pulled the rug out from under you.” Sig two-hand shoved Burgess in the chest. “Where’s your fucking confidence, man? Burgess before the divorce would have gone and pulled that hot nanny without breaking a sweat.”

“You sound like one of the Orgasm Donors.” Fire scaled his spine. “Call her hot again and I’ll put your head through the wall.”

Sig laughed, visibly delighted by his outburst. “Okay, I won’t.” His friend gave him a slow grin, obviously meant to incite him—and it was working. “I’ll just think about it.”

“You have a death wish.”

“Look. I’m just saying...” Sig made a flippant hand gesture, indicating Burgess’s body. “You’ve still got it. She’s already living with you, right? So you don’t even have to invent reasons to see her. That’s half the battle. Now let’s say you forget to wear a shirt to breakfast. Oops! Suddenly she’s got two hundred and eighty pounds of defenseman of the year looking back at her over a bowl of Cheerios.” Sig picked up a kettle bell. “Just saying, it could be compelling.”

“I promised to take her skinny dipping in Jamaica Pond,” Burgess grumbled, sneaking Sig a measuring look. “Is that something?”

Sig dropped the kettle bell. “What?”

Burgess feigned nonchalance. “Nothing. ”

“Fuck you, nothing. Explain.”

“No.”

Sig stared at him hard. “She better not invite Chloe.”

“I’ll make sure to suggest it.”

“God, you’re a prick.” Sig considered him through a squinted eye. “I’m starting to think this au pair affair is going to be fun to watch.”

Burgess didn’t know if “fun” was a word that could be attached to anything related to him.

But he did know he was looking forward to getting home tonight. More than ever.

Again, the memory of Tallulah stroking his bicep skipped like a stone across the pond of his mind. Not that he would admit this to Sig, but...

Maybe the whole shirtless thing had some merit?