Page 12

THEO

NOAH: Lil man needs to be at every playoff game now that we’ve clinched. Lucky charms are important.

THEO: Home games, right?

NOAH: Indie can hang with the other girlfriends and families. She knows at least two already. And Quinn. They’ll have a blast on the road.

I sighed, stretched, and glared at my phone as I realized my situation was not exactly PG the last few days. It was borderline PG-13 with a strong hurl into rated R territory.

Even the damn ten mile run on the treadmill hadn’t stopped my fantasies from sneaking up on me like a fucking masked character in some horror film.

The last thing I needed was more Indie in close proximity to my dick, who thought about her almost nonstop.

It was bad enough that she’d taken to wearing less and less in the house.

Nothing crazy, and nothing I could say a word about being or mention being inappropriate with Travis around.

Though a few nights ago, I couldn’t sleep thinking about her across the hall, but when I went to get a drink or a fucking banana downstairs in the kitchen at 2 am, her door was closed.

Not ajar. No sliver of air between the door and door frame.

Unlike the night before, when I picked her up from the Triumph training facilities after Nia called me worried she’d been kidnapped by a masked man or some nonsense.

If she only knew.

But not last night.

Silence filled the air, so I assumed she was asleep.

I thought I’d dodged a bullet and didn’t have to hear a repeat of her late night activities, and was strangely disappointed as I headed down the stairs. But then I found her standing in front of the refrigerator, the light making the camisole and sleep shorts she had on nearly transparent.

My dick perked up and nearly did a replay of the creepy outside the door come-in-my-pants moment from the other night.

I escaped before she saw me, but I laid in bed trying not to jerk off to the image of my nanny/fake girlfriend soon to be fiancee, best friend’s little sister. And failed miserably.

We clinched a playoff spot last night at home, and had two days before our last regular season game. After that, the playoffs started, and we had a home berth at the beginning of the series. But after that, away for a few games before returning home, if needed.

It wouldn’t be needed.

However, Indie wasn’t going to be my girlfriend after tomorrow.

My ‘proposal’ was set to take place at BB&L, where we ‘rekindled’ our relationship and ‘fell head over romance books in love’ last fall.

If it were real, i’d be down on one knee in the same spot I’d had her over my knee, spanking her ass in the fucking woods.

But that's neither here, nor there. It wasn’t real.

No matter how hard my dick wanted it to be. Or how bad it tried to talk me into the idea of fake with benefits.

With a girl who hated me, and pushed my buttons every chance she got. Stabbed them, even.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, and headed upstairs, grabbing my water bottle along the way, and draining it as my phone pinged again.

NOAH: What, no response? You’re making me feel like you don’t prioritize me, Theo.

HUNTER: When did you get so needy?

COLE: Get?

NOAH: Hey! As the official #ghosthockeydaddy creator, checking in is a must do. Plus, if lil man is the reason we hit the streak when we needed, there’s no way he can’t be there. Every game.

THEO: We’ll see.

COLE: Just go fucking propose already, and then you can focus on your game.

NOAH: Is it happening? Pics or it didn’t happen.

Fuck. My. Life.

HUNTER: You’re such a social media whore.

NOAH: It’s like a damn romance trope, and you know the book world will lose their shit over it. I mean I am.

WOLF: Why am I here again?

NOAH: Cause we’re your pack, Walker. Whether you like it or not.

*WOLF left the chat*

*NOAH added WOLF to the chat*

NOAH: Nope. Once you’re in, it’s for life.

HUNTER: Great. Now we’re the #ghosthockeydaddy mafia

NOAH: Except we don’t really kill anyone. Just in it for the dark romance readers.

HUNTER: I’m sure BB&L could do a dark hockey romance night?

COLE: Don’t give them any more ideas. Eden and Indie are already planning another event. With puppies.

NOAH: WHAT??? Why did no one tell me? Why is my BBF hiding crucial information with me?

COLE: It just happened right before we clinched, LeCav. Post season event. I have ways of getting information. Remember that.

So that’s the reason for Indie’s meeting a few days ago at the Triumph facility when her phone died.

She refused to talk to me after we got home, and hid in her room until the next morning.

Travis ended up falling asleep on the couch after Nia dropped him off after begging to watch Lego Batman. Again.

Pretty soon I’d quote the damn thing at practice. Which I’m sure LeCav would fucking love.

This morning, before she took Travis to school, she came into the kitchen with a smirk on her face.

The kind where I knew she meant trouble.

It didn’t help, or hurt, that Travis was spending the night at Nia’s because they were going to have a Lego movie marathon, and build Lego sets.

Her girls and Travis were becoming inseparable.

It was adorable, but it also meant that Indie and I would be alone.

All night.

And then, tomorrow, she’ll be my fiancee. Fake, but wearing my ring.

NOAH: Ah! Proposal jitters? One more sleep, #HOCKEYDADDY #MARRIAGEPACT

HUNTER: Wait, are you asking Indie to marry you tomorrow?

ROMEO: Change my fucking name, LeCav.

NOAH: No can do. Eden loves it, and we both know if she loves it…

THEO: Stop hashtagging me.

WOLF: …

COLE: …

NOAH: Jitters. And playoffs. Deadly combination. I predict gloves getting thrown in two nights.

HUNTER: Ah…nerves. Agreed.

THEO: There’s no jitters.

NOAH: Sure there are. Even if she says yes, she might make you wait a few extra seconds to say yes. Just to make you suffer. Or prolong the moment. Slow burn. You know, the whole marriage pact when you were kids thing is pretty intense.

HUNTER: I think they’ve had enough slow burn.

NOAH: How do you know, Cowboy?

COLE: I think we all know.

NOAH: Do we?

COLE: The haunted house had a lot more than haunting going on the adult side.

NOAH: Truth. #GHOSTHOCKEYDADDY haunted house mojo.

The kitchen was empty, for the moment, anyway.

I grabbed another glass of water, downed it, and stared out the window over the sink that overlooked the backyard.

In spring, I planned on having a playground set put in for Travis to the left of the pool.

The thought of Indie lounging in a bikini on the deck, while Travis played creeped into my thoughts.

Once again, my dick focused on how she’d look in a bikini. All curves and sass.

The sass.

My phone pinged, I groaned inwardly, preparing myself for more Noah, but the name that popped up made my dick even happier.

INDIE: Takeout, #HOCKEYDADDY. And make sure to add dessert.

INDIE: Oh, and we need a few new Sharpies.

I smirked, because Indie might think reminding me about one of her ‘stipulations’ would get a rise out of me, two could play at her game.

THEO: Sharpie kink, little girl?

The dots on my screen jumped as she typed and probably deleted whatever sarcastic and bratty response she kept revising.

INDIE: Oh, Daddy. You have no idea what my kinks really are. I doubt you could handle a girl like me.

Fuck. Me.

There it was again. When she called me in passing the other night, I stifled my reaction, but the thought of hearing Indie call me ‘Daddy’ was exactly unpleasant. Quite the fucking contrary, the thought of her begging me as she called me was on replay multiple times during the day since then.

THEO: Should I remind you of exactly how I ‘handled’ you? And how much you liked it?

Seconds passed, and the #HOCKEYDADDY chat (yep, Noah kept renaming it that even when the other guys changed it) kept going but I ignored it. After a few more seconds, she responded.

INDIE: I don’t know what you mean. You're the one who keeps reminding me. I think you're obsessed with something you’ll never have again Because not interested.

She protested a lot for someone not interested , I thought.

The other chat kept pinging, but I muted it.

THEO: Are you sure about that, little girl?

INDIE: Yes, Daddy.

Holy fuck.

INDIE: My ‘toys’ make me scream louder than anyone ever could. And they don’t need me to stroke…their ego. Especially in the middle of the night. Though I appreciated the audience. Like hearing what you’ll never have?

Fuck it. If she thought I was embarrassed by hearing her make herself come or thought I didn’t know she did it on purpose, she had another thing coming.

THEO: You'll be begging me ‘Please, Daddy’, if you keep this up, little girl.

INDIE: I don’t beg. Daddy.

THEO: Not yet, you don’t. But you will.

INDIE: Careful. I bite.

THEO: I bite back. And I’ll make you crawl if you keep pushing.

No response. Minutes ticked by, and then finally, she sent a response. But instead of a sassy come back, she sent a picture. Indie on her knees in the bookstore, by the ‘book boyfriend recs’ section, looking up into the camera.

INDIE: Closest you’ll get, Daddy. I don’t crawl for just anyone.

My dick flew the fuck into pure caveman mode imagining of her crawling for some faceless douchebag, and fuck, all I wanted to do was spank her until she listened to me.

Begged and pleaded for me to let her crawl to me.

And do every dirty, filthy thing I could think of while she glared at me with fire in her eyes.

THEO: I’m not just anyone, now am I? After tomorrow, you won’t be either.

INDIE: Fake.

THEO: Oh, little girl, you’ll never have to fake anything with me. I won’t let you. If anything you’ll beg me to stop, but I won’t. Not until I know you can’t take another second. But, the way you’ve been acting, I just might keep going. Understood?

INDIE:

THEO: Tssk tssk, Indie.

“Honey, I’m home.”