Page 33

CALLIOPE

I checked myself in the mirror for what had to be the fortieth time, finally satisfied that both my dress and accompanying bathing suit were impressive and respectable at the same time.

Was I worried about impressing the WAGs a bit?

But other than the first day I met Tom when I wore a skirt suit, I’d only dressed casually.

Jeans, t-shirts and shorts and bummy clothes.

“Kiwi, huwwy,” Crew called outside my door.

“Coming, buddy.”

Here goes. I opened my bedroom door and walked straight into Tom. Fuck. He wore fitted khaki shorts and a polo-style shirt that stretched across his chest. If I hadn’t already been exposed to a shirtless Tom for half the morning, I would have said this was my favorite look on him.

“Woah,” I said. “You headed to a celebrity golf tournament?” I joked.

“Nah, these shorts are amphibious. I plan to swim.”

Yeah, now I’m thinking about him shirtless again.

“I love the dress.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling the impact of his appraisal on my self-confidence.

“I’d like it even more on my bedroom floor,” he said with a wink.

I gasped, though that brought on a slew of other dirty thoughts of what I would do with him alone in his bedroom.

Would he let me take control? Or would he be like everyone else and make me feel ridiculous for wanting to experiment?

I didn’t think Tom would be intimidated by anything, but who knows?

Crew grabbed my hand, tugging me towards the door. “Hold on, buddy,” I said. “We have to bring the food we made. Do you have your swim floats?”

He shook his head solemnly, and I headed to the closet to dig out the pool bag I had packed earlier. Crew struggled to carry the bag, and half of its contents fell out, only for Tom and I to scoop them up after the little hurricane raced ahead of us.

“So, should we like hold hands or something?” I asked nervously, unsure if I wanted both hands tied up while still being responsible for Crew.

“It’s okay. They all know we’re wrangling a toddler. No one here expects a PDA. But, you will be able to tell which WAGs will last and which ones won’t.”

“What do you mean?” I asked curiously, wondering if there was some ranking or rating scale that I needed to prepare myself to be judged against.

“I can’t explain it; you’ve met Mariana; she’s just comfortable with it.

She lives here for half the year, and then they move back home for the summer.

She welcomes the new WAGs, helps support them, and does her best to keep us together as a family off the ice.

Kayleigh and Damon were high school sweethearts; they broke up mid-season last year, and while he swears it will last this season, I was there for the aftermath.

Kayleigh isn’t clingy; she’s sweet as hell, but when she’s alone, and our significant others are alone a lot, she gets antsy.

And then occasionally, the guys try to wife a puck bunny. ”

“And?”

“You want the person you love to know and understand the game, but sometimes the puck bunnies like the idea of dating a player more than the actual player. We get injured all the time, and every time we skate onto the ice, we risk a career-ending or life-altering injury. None of us like to think about that, but we also don’t want to have someone run off when things get hard. ”

Crew had reached the gate, and Mariana stood on the other side, waiting for us to give him the okay to let him into the pool area.

The complex had a built-in outdoor kitchen that was usually for all residents, but today, they allowed the team to book it for half of the day.

Oh my, these men were all huge, and the women were all hot, even those carrying around infants.

“You okay?” Tom asked, sensing my hesitation.

“Wow, this is a lot. I’m so far out of my league it’s not even funny.”

“You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

Crew thankfully offered the perfect distraction, and while I was prepared to be in the pool with him most of the time, it looked like it was the dad’s turn.

Mariana and Kayleigh quickly pulled me into their circle, introducing me to Vasil Mink’s girlfriend, Bridget Gandolfi, who was originally from Colorado and taught fourth grade, and Charlie Duncan’s fiance, Gwen Cooper, who lived in New York City, writing for the society pages and living the dream as an influencer.

“Hey, you look familiar. Where do I know you from?” Gwen asked.

“Hmm, not sure. I’m from Boston, and while I traveled here and there, I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Wait, I never forget a face,” she said, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her apps. “Here it is, girl, you just went viral on TikTok.”

“What?” I asked, looking over her shoulder to see that the video of me singing my new original song had indeed gone viral. I had some activity on older posts, but nothing like this one. “Oh, I hadn’t even thought to check; none of my other posts did much of anything.”

“Girl, you’re amazing. It was only a matter of time. Now you need to follow up and post some more!”

I glanced quickly at Tom and Crew. Both seemed content to play in the pool; neither needed anything from me. “Thanks,” I said, not wanting to monopolize the center of attention.

“How did you two meet? We’re all a little intrigued since Tom was known for being a bit of a loner last season. I don’t think he even took home a single puck bunny.”

“Oh, we met in Boston. I was singing at an open mic night, and he was there grabbing a bite to eat.”

“Ooh, nice meet cute. What did you sing that made him fall?”

That question stumped me; there was no way I was going to risk answering it only to have Tom offer a different answer.

“Honestly, I don’t remember.”

“Hey, Tom,” Gwen yelled over to him in the pool. When she had his attention, he quickly looked at me to reassure me that all was okay before she asked, “What song did Callie sing the night you met her?”

“Silver Spring, Stevie Nicks,” he answered instantly. Our eyes locked, and he gave me an impish grin. I felt a quick little flop in my stomach.

“See? Gwen says? He remembered, huh?”

“Yes, he did. The song must have made an impact.”

“Well, now that we know you can sing, be prepared for us to try to talk you into playing by campfire later.”

“Ooh, yeah. It will be better than everyone fighting over access to the speaker,” Bridget piped up. “The only thing they ever agree on is Taylor Swift, but then they start fighting over which era was the best.”

“Oh, well, I guess that depends on whether Crew lets us stay out or not.”

“It’s my turn to take them back and watch the kids tonight,” Mariana said. “We take turns when we get together. Since Crew is at the toughest age, I had planned to go back to your place. I would bring AJ, Lucy, and Anna back with me. They are used to sleeping wherever.”

Damon had fired up the grill and was cooking meats, and I joined Bridget, Camille, and Gwen in setting up the sides and salads.

Tom, Alex, and Andre were bribing the kids with promises of watermelon and ice cream if they got out of the pool, dried off, and ate all their lunches.

When Tom finally got Crew to agree, he raced over to me and gave me a giant wet hug.

“Was that your idea?” I asked Tom. Trying my best to avoid staring at the reams of water dripping down his chest. And yup, my eyes caught one bead of water slightly right down, following the line to the start of the v.

I loved men’s bodies and had always had an unhealthy obsession with what I called the very promising land.

They didn’t need rock-hard, chiseled abs; even a dad bod was a turn-on.

But holy, fucking, wow. Tom’s sculpted torso could only mean that at the end of that path that began in the very promising land lay the holy grail.

“Getting you wet was probably the best idea I had, but no, Crew has no boundaries. How’s it going,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face and leaning down to press his lips to my forehead.

Oh man, that did it. Hit me straight in my feels, a part of me I thought was dead without a pulse after Zander’s betrayal.

Tom was sexy as fuck. Anyone with eyes could see that, but not many people got to see the vulnerable side, where he was just a dad trying to make his way through life and take care of his little boy.

So yeah, his forehead kiss pulled me into the web of tenderness he reserved for very few people.

I’d watched his interviews with sports pundits.

He was direct, slightly abrupt, and occasionally sassy on the border of rude.

I then went down a few Tom Campbell rabbit holes online and saw how vicious he was on the ice.

That was the Tom everyone else saw. And while I craved what I was certain he and I could do together physically, I wanted more forehead kisses and the guy who remembered the song I sang the night we met.

Tom, sensing my reaction, asked, “Was that okay?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “It was more than okay.”

A grin broke out across his face. How was it that I was only just now noticing that dimple? As if on cue, Crew crashed into us, almost knocking me over. I scooped him up and brought him to make us both a plate.

I caught a few of the WAGs staring at me as I patiently explained to Crew that he needed to try at least one new food if he wanted ice cream. He agreed to this and then tried to convince me that the new food was a chocolate chip cookie.

“You’re a handful, you know that, bud?” I asked him.

“Yup!” He said proudly.