18

AMELIA

It’s nearing eleven thirty by the time Dane and I have Lyla fastened into her car seat.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask as I shut the car door.

He walks me around to the passenger side and opens the door for me.

“Absolutely,” he says with a smile. I look up at him for a moment, noting the relaxed grin on his face.

“Don’t you have practice or?—”

“Practice is this evening. Four thirty. We have plenty of time,” he says, nodding for me to get in the car. “Now come on, I know that omelet you split with Tripp did not fill you up. So we’re going to stop for coffee on the way.”

I get the feeling it’s pointless to argue, so I don’t. But there’s something in the tone of his voice, in the way he says the words, that feels different. Dane isn’t forward like Tripp or bossy like Richie. He’s not smooth like Dex.

What he is, is a shape-shifter. Every time I think I know him, think I know what he’s going to say or how he’s going to act, he does something to surprise me.

“Coffee, huh?” I say as I get in, listening to Lyla in the back seat.

Dane starts the car up. I don’t miss his smile as he pulls out of the driveway. “I mean, you did say you preferred coffee over tea,” he says, shooting me a look.

“I did?” I ask, sitting back in the seat.

He nods. “That night, at the bar. You were drinking coffee. Kind of an odd thing to be drinking in a bar. I asked you about it and you said?—”

“I could drink coffee day or night,” I say, feeling strangely on the spot. How does he remember that? It was over a year ago. “You remember that?” I ask, dumbfounded.

He turns, focusing his gaze on the road. “Yeah, of course,” he says softly. “I remember a lot of things.”

The way he says the words is sad, almost guilty. I have to wonder exactly what it is that he remembers that makes him look so sad.

“So, you give any more thought to the game?” he asks, changing the subject. Lyla coos and giggles in the back seat.

“Dane…”

“I’m just saying, I think it would be fun. We could get you a seat in the box and?—”

“What about Lyla?” I ask.

“I know my parents would jump at the chance to see their granddaughter.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “You don’t think they hate me?”

He looks at me with a surprised glance. “Why would they hate you?”

“Because I’m a home-wrecker, Dane.”

He looks at me like I’ve grown three heads. “No, you’re not. Dex is the home-wrecker. He’s the one who screwed up the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“And what about his wife, huh? Is she the worst?” I bite out, feeling strangely defensive. I shouldn’t be defending my cheating ex, but I guess I really am losing my marbles.

“No, I?—”

“I’m sorry,” I say, running my hand over my face. “I just…what happened was really hard, and…complicated.”

There’s a tense pause before he speaks. “No, you having a baby with my twin and dating my stepbrother is complicated,” he says with a laugh.

“Oh my God, Dane, you did not just—” My cheeks heat and I hide my face in my hands.

He laughs, but it’s nervous.

“I’m not dating Tripp. I’m?—”

What? What am I doing with Tripp? What I said was true. I do like him. A lot.

And I definitely did not dislike anything about what happened between us last night.

Dex wasn’t awful in bed—I mean, the proof of that is the back seat of this car—but he rarely went down on me, and when he did, it often took too long to get me there, so we’d end up fucking instead.

But somehow Tripp was able to make me come twice in a matter of minutes.

While drunk too. Most men can’t even aim straight after a few beers, but Tripp was somehow able to not just find my damn clit but to push me over the edge into a double orgasm. I’ve never had two in a row.

Never!

When I realized what had happened, I clammed up. I’d let him go down on me. He was drunk. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of him like that. I should have been more respectful.

And the hurt look on his face after I left…I felt awful.

But this morning…

This morning, things were different. Being with Tripp is…nice.

It’s comfortable. I like being around him. I like how he looks at me. How he’s so open and wears his heart on his sleeve.

Yes, he’s young, but he’s not a child. He’s a twenty-four-year-old athlete with the world at his feet. He’s everything I shouldn’t want, but can’t help that I do.

But what are we? I wish I knew.

Dane clears his throat and focuses on the road as Lyla blows raspberries in the back seat. It’s a tense silence.

“I—”

“It’s fine, Amelia,” he says, but his voice doesn’t sound as strong as it did before. “I’m in no position to tell you what to do with your life or who to…date.”

I sigh, looking out the window. I know that he’s right. But he’s also wrong, considering he practically dragged me over here to his compound in the first place!

And then it hits me. “You’re jealous!”

He turns to me with wide eyes. “I am not jealous of Tripp !” He wrinkles his nose, his eyebrows furrowing. “That’s absurd, Amelia.”

“Well, you sure you are making an ironclad case, Dane.”

He pulls up to the Starbucks drive-through, his lips pursed. “What do you want?” he asks, the tone of his voice bordering politeness with a tinge of annoyance.

I should not take him up on this. Right now, he’s irritating me. But…he is right. I didn’t have enough back at the house and I’m already feeling like I need a damn nap after getting barely four hours of sleep.

“I’ll take a venti flat white with an extra shot of espresso.” I flash him a smile. “And a cheese Danish. Please.”

His dark eyes catch my gaze and he shakes his head, but I don’t miss the smirk there when he turns to order my drink and his. When we get our drinks and my Danish, he drives off, turning up the radio, and I know the conversation is over for the moment.

It’s barely ten minutes before he sighs, pulling into the mall parking lot.

“Amelia…listen…”

“We don’t have to talk about it, Dane. It’s fine, I?—”

“No, we should,” he says, turning the car off. I look at him, my heart in my throat. He’s so handsome. Familiar amber eyes and dark hair, that perfect jawline.

But looking at him now, in his car, with my daughter snoozing in the back seat, I can’t help but think that he looks nothing like Dex.

“I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t bother me,” he says softly. “You and Tripp.” Before I can open my mouth, he stops me. “I’m also not going to pretend that I don’t want to kiss you right now.”

I look at him, at his wistful brown eyes, his tight, defined forearms that are elongated by his rolled-up sleeves. He looks like something out of a damn romance novel. Absolutely perfect.

“So why aren’t you? Kissing me right now?” I ask, feeling the space between us. I lean in just a fraction and his gaze flashes to my mouth.

“Do you want me to?” he asks after a tense pause.

“Yes,” I whisper before dropping my gaze. “Ever since I’ve come home, I’ve just been…everything is just…complicated.”

“There’s that word again,” he says, and I feel him lean closer to my space, even though I look away.

His hand finds my chin, pulling me to look up at him. His gaze softens.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be,” he says. “Maybe we just…do what feels right and go from there.”

I gaze up at his amber eyes, letting the words settle. I can’t deny that this moment, being in this car with him, Lyla…

It feels right.

But so does giggling with Tripp or arguing with Richie.

They all feel right in some way, which is so very complicated.

“Okay,” I say softly as he smiles, and I can’t resist him. I lean in, closing the space between us, and crush my mouth to his. He tastes like bitter coffee and bad decisions.

Like familiarity and a new discovery all at once.

Dane Rose kisses me softly, reverently as he groans into my mouth, his tongue finding mine with ease. My cheeks flush and my legs tighten as a shock wave of pleasure spikes through me.

And then it’s gone. He breaks away, smiling at me.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice much darker than it was a moment ago, and I think if we don’t get out of this car, I may kiss him again. And again until I can’t breathe.

How is it that he makes me feel this way? Even after all this time? Even after everything that has happened?

“Yes,” I say, nodding in response. He gets out of the car, popping the trunk to get the stroller out, and I follow suit to get Lyla out of her car seat.

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Almost too smooth, actually. We get some things for her nursery slash library, some essentials to stock the fridge. Dane buys too many toys and books to count, and although I tell him Lyla doesn’t need any of those things, he doesn’t take no for an answer.

“I want to,” he says. He says that a lot. He wants to take care of us.

He wants to take care of me.

When he’s finally had his fill of buying Lyla everything Target has to offer for a five-month-old girl, we find ourselves a spot on the outside patio of L’Orange . I’ve never been much for fancy restaurants, but there’s something about the ambiance of a French restaurant. The smells, the sounds. It’s strangely relaxing. Lyla is passed out in her stroller, likely from a day full of so much energy. Though I can’t believe we’ve been out for hours, when it feels like no time has passed at all.

Dane crosses his legs, peering at his menu. The steam from his cappuccino rises, casting a hazy, smoky glow on him. Amidst the deep blues and ambient lighting, he is hard not to stare at. I can’t remember ever staring at Dex like this, which is crazy, considering they look identical.

I bite my lip, tearing my gaze away as I figure I should actually read my menu and figure out what I want. Problem is, what I want is not on the menu…

Behind my cardboard, I blush. Seriously, Amelia, what is wrong with you? Thirsty much?

Lyla makes a sound, and for a moment, I think she’s going to start wailing and wake up.

But before I can even get my menu down, Dane’s dragging the stroller closer, rocking it back and forth until she quiets.

My insides twist and I can’t help but feel the heat blossom between my legs.

Watching him with her is…

Hot.

I know it shouldn’t be, but damn it to hell if watching Dane with my baby doesn’t give me a shot of baby fever.

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asks, pulling me from my most inappropriate thoughts.

“I’ll have the Duck L’Orange, of course,” Dane says with a smile, and I notice the way the waitress smiles back at him.

“Of course, Mr. Rose,” she giggles, and immediately I’m taken back to Florida.

Every time Dex and I did leave the house, I had to deal with the women. Flirting, snapping selfies, touching him. He never brushed them off, just soaked up the attention and pretended it was such a travesty, a sacrifice he had to make to give us the life we had become accustomed too.

But now I know otherwise. I wonder what his wife would say. I wonder if they go out and she has to endure the “sacrifice” so she can continue the life she’s accustomed to too.

I tense as the waitress looks at me. “I’ll just have the chicken salad croissant and the nicoise salad. Thanks.”

I offer her the menu just as Dane says, “Oh, and could you bring my lovely date one of those chocolate crepes? The ones with the caramelized strawberries? And another refill for her coffee, please. Thanks.” He smiles genuinely and I can’t help the small smile that graces my lips when I see the waitress frown momentarily.

“Of course, Mr. Rose,” she says, hurrying away.

I try to stifle the smile, because I should not feel so, so…

“You should come to practice with me, tonight,” he says, sipping his coffee.

“I beg your pardon?” I say, reaching for the bread and butter.

“Practice. You, with me. Tonight.” He leans back in his chair.

“I don’t know if I can get a sitter on that short of a notice, Dane.”

“My parents can watch Lyla if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I sigh, wanting to argue, but he said they’d be fine with it.

“If you want me to call them when we get back to the car, I will, but I guarantee you they’ll be fine. I’m sure they’d love to get some of these sweet baby snuggles,” he says as he continues to rock her stroller.

Part of me wants to protest, but the larger part of me is enticed by the idea of a night out. Alone. With…Dane.

And Richie. He’ll likely be there too.

I stop for a moment, wondering what he would say if I showed up to practice with Dane. He seemed irritated this morning with Dane offering to take me shopping. Or maybe he was irritated with Tripp because we were making out in the kitchen.

This is all so complicated and I have no idea what I’m doing or how to navigate any of it.

But I think of Dane’s words. Just do what feels right.

So I nod as the waitress brings our plates.

“Okay,” I say, and I don’t miss the grin on his face. “But we are definitely calling your parents. I want to hear them agree to this, and if they don’t?—”

“They will,” he says matter-of-factly.

We don’t speak about it again, too busy with our meals to talk. When we get to the car, he does call his mother and stepfather. He even puts them on speaker.

His mother’s soft, bubbly voice makes me feel equal parts guilty and relieved. It’s not like I kept my child away from her grandparents. We lived in Florida, and it wasn’t like they could come stay for months, they had their own lives…

“Great, we’ll stop by and grab Lyla’s stuff, then we’ll be right over,” he says, hanging up. He gives me a bright smile as he puts the car into drive. “Told you,” he says smugly.

I can’t resist rolling my eyes. “Mhmmm.” I settle into my seat, but I can’t stop smiling either.

The minute I step foot into the arena, I feel the anxiety starting to swell. The air is cold, and the arena is bare, save for hockey wives and girlfriends and kids in the stands.

Everyone notices us—we aren’t exactly hard to miss.

“Hey,” Dane whispers, pulling my attention. “You have every right to be here, just like they do, Amelia.”

I sigh as he grabs me by my chin, and I suck in a breath. I’m acutely aware of the fact that we’re being watched right now, and my blood is as cold as ice.

“Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart,” he says.

I nod, and when I look up, I see Richie. Out on the ice, skating by, his dark gaze capturing mine. He runs a hand through his dark hair, his gaze cold. But somehow it’s sexy as hell too.

Dane drops my chin and heads for the lockers to change.

I look around the stands, recognizing most of the faces here, though I haven’t spoken to them since Dex got traded.

I hold my head as high as I can as I find a seat in front of the glass and wait. My heart is in my throat, my body chilled to the core. Maybe I knew this would happen and that’s why I didn’t want to come.

I can feel their judgmental stares, but I ignore them. Dane is right—I do have every right to be here. This is my home. The Badgers are my team.

But I can’t help but wonder what they must all be thinking. Knowing the scandal Dex brought me into. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure the entire room just witnessed Dane touching me in a not-so-familial way.

The last thing I need is gossip to be spread about me or my daughter.

I cross my legs, and within a few minutes, Dane’s sliding out onto the ice. I get lost in watching the team warm up. Watching Richie skate circles around the other guys and watching Dane expertly stretch his legs. There’s a strange sort of familiarity to watching them. When Dex and I started dating, I spent almost every practice here, watching the three of them.

It’s strange how some things have changed, but yet…

Nothing’s changed.

I keep checking my watch, keep fidgeting. It feels odd to not have my daughter with me. Though I know she’s likely fine with her grandparents—who deserve to spend some much-needed time with her—I miss her. I keep thinking I hear her little coos and squeals. Keep waiting to hear her cry.

When practice is finally over, I breathe easier. A part of me feels somewhat victorious that I made it through without freaking out. Without having to talk to anyone.

I wait outside for Dane, but it’s not him who comes out first. It’s Richie.

“Hey,” I say, not really knowing what to say to the man. I’d been thinking about exactly what I wanted to say to him. About what happened between us last night. Before dinner.

But the minute I see him, all thoughts fly out the window. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Richie is as old as he is. He doesn’t look his age at all. Though, there’s a sense of refinement about him in the way he carries himself, an aura he gives off that feels much older than Dane or Tripp.

I’m not quite sure I’d call it dad vibes, but maybe…

Daddy vibes for sure.

My cheeks heat instantly as my brain is filled with the memory of his torturous mouth and tongue. Of his deep, gravelly voice.

Come for Daddy.

“Amelia,” he says, shaking some hair out of his face. His dark eyes catch mine and I can see beads of water clinging to his hair. He smells like a mixture of cinnamon and cloves and sandalwood. It’s damn near intoxicating, and I know it’s because of his recent shower.

Which makes me think about him. In said shower…

“Where’s Lyla?”

“Dane and I dropped her off at your mom’s.”

Richie nods, raising an eyebrow. “That didn’t take long,” he says gruffly.

“Are you uh…headed home…after this?” I feel strange calling their place home, but that’s what it is, right? It’s their home, even if I am just a guest. “Or?—”

He shakes his head, some water spraying onto me, and I have to stifle the urge to laugh.

“Nope.” He shrugs, a smirk crossing his lips. “What’s the matter, baby girl? You afraid you’re gonna miss me?”

My cheeks redden at his words. “No.”

He knows I’m lying as well as I do, but I don’t want to think about such things right now.

Richie isn’t like his brothers. I get the feeling that smoldering intensity will burn me if I get too close. And he’d love every minute of scorching me.

“Mhmm. Well, don’t wait up for me,” he says as he towers over me. The sight makes my heart race, my blood rush. The way he’s looking at me makes more than my cheeks blush. My entire body warms at the sight.

“Richie.” Dane’s voice breaks through the spell, and I blink. I take two steps back, noticing the exchange between them. “See you at home?” Dane says.

Richie shrugs. “Maybe. Got some shit to do.”

Dane nods, glancing back at me. “Okay. See you later, then.”

I don’t miss the way Richie knocks into Dane on the way out.

“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching out for his shoulder.

Dane grins. “Nothing I can’t take. Richie’s been checking me for years,” he says. His freshly showered scent hits me and I take in the sight of him. Dressed in his button-down and khakis like some high school gym teacher. His forearms glisten in the low light and his watch catches the overhead lights. “So I was thinking…”

“You do a lot of that,” I say with a half smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he captures my gaze with that boyish gleam in his eye that is just so…. him.

Dex is charming. You can’t afford not to be charming when you have a whole other wife and child and cheat on them with multiple people.

But Dane…Dane is like Prince Charming. If Prince Charming came with solid abs, of course.

“I was thinking, since my parents have Lyla right now, and I have you…” he says with a grin, “maybe we could grab something to eat. Just the two of us.”

His grin could melt the ice in the arena.

Fucking hell.

“You mean like a date?” I ask, grinning coyly.

He regards me thoughtfully as we head to his SUV. “Yes. If you want it to be, that is.” The sky is that perfect shade of dusk, that twilight that is neither day or night. Something in between. I can see the moon and stars, but it’s not dark by any means.

I think about his words. If I want it to be.

Looking at him, freshly showered, dressed in preppy clothes with that boyish grin on his face…takes me back to that very first night.

When I saw him from across the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him because he was reading a book at the bar. Who reads a book at the bar? Better yet, what athlete reads a book in a bar after a winning game?

Dane Rose, that’s who.

He does what he wants and he doesn’t give a shit what people think.

And that’s kind of refreshing, to be honest.

Even then, I felt this draw. This pull. The magical spark that ate at me until I picked up my feet and made my way across to him. That warmth that drew me in. The comfort, the ease, and the butterflies.

Dex gave me a lot of things—including my daughter—but not once did I look at Dexter Rose and feel butterflies.

So I say, “Yes.”

Dane grins and I swear it should be a magazine cover.

“But I should stop and change, because I’m clearly not dressed for a date,” I say, motioning to my high-waisted jeans, converses, and my dark blue sweater.

Dane shrugs as he opens my car door. “I think you look perfect,” he says.

It’s not smooth or practiced. It’s not a line or something he’s said a million times. Dane tells me I look perfect because he truly thinks that, and something about that melts every reserve I have about what we’re doing here.

I said that things are complicated, and they still very much are. But as Dane looks at me, holding my door open, waiting for me…

I can’t deny it feels right.

So I do what feels right and get into the car, buckle up, and take a deep breath.

I’m going on a date. With my ex’s twin brother who gives me butterflies.

What could go wrong?