Page 4

4

Maya

I ’m not sure why I have to clean the entire house a second time while waiting for Christian to show up this afternoon. Maybe it’s nerves or maybe it’s a stupid, unconscious desire to make things look more perfect than they are.

Either way, by the time I hear the knock at the door, the kitchen is spotless and there’s not a fleck of dirt on the carpet.

After the heartbreak of finding out I was pregnant, being disowned by my parents, and Christian leaving to join the pros without even a goodbye, I remember scrubbing Preston’s apartment from top to bottom every day for two whole weeks after I moved in with him. House cleaning was all that I had to do while my brother was at practice. I guess it was my way of meditating, taking my mind off everything or a way to take back control in my spiraling life.

Today, though, I’m mostly just nervous for this face-to-face confrontation with Christian without Preston or Elle around to act as a buffer like the previous time.

Taking a deep breath, I finally open the door to find Christian standing there, looking way too hot for someone who holds all my good sense in the palm of his hand. Even wearing the casual Bobcats tee and jeans, his short blond hair sticking up every which way, he still somehow manages to look like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine.

And seeing him still draws all the air from my lungs.

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice soft, his smile wobbly, like he’s testing the waters. It finally occurs to me that despite his outward appearance, he’s probably just as nervous about this visit as I am. Maybe even more so.

“Hey,” I reply, stepping aside to let him in. As he walks past me, I catch a whiff of his cologne—woodsy and clean, and so him. My stomach does an unwelcome, eager flip at the familiar scent, and I tell it to settle down. Christian’s gorgeousness has always made me feel like he’s out of my league. Like we’re not even playing the same sport. He’s a superstar professional hockey player breaking scoring records, while I’m still stumbling around the empty field of my high school soccer team.

I still find it hard to believe that he once upon a time wanted to be with me. Wanted me enough that we made a son together.

A son who I would do anything for.

That’s why I steel my spine before Finley realizes he’s here to tell him, “We need to lay some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” he repeats. “Right. Sure. Anything you want.”

“You’re still just here visiting as a friend.”

His sculpted, scruffy golden jaw twitches as he glances away toward the empty living room. “Fine, but how long am I only going to be a friend?”

“That depends,” I reply. “ If I decide it’s time to tell Finley the truth, it will be after you prove that you’re up for the job of being…more than a friend. I need…I need you to be a good role model for him and convince me that I can trust you to take care of him if you’re alone with him for even a few minutes or possibly hours. But that’s it. You won’t get to take him to Greensboro overnight without me there.”

Christian gives me a nod of understanding. “Okay. And I won’t get an attorney and push for more…as long as you give me the entire summer to prove to you that you can trust me to be a good father to Finley.”

“The entire summer?” I say in surprise at his unexpected terms of negotiation.

“You don’t think it will take me that long to earn your trust and show you I can be a good role model?”

“Yes. No. I mean, I’m not sure.” Flustered, I cross my arms over my chest and ask him, “How often are you planning to come up and visit?”

“As often as you’ll let me. I could get a hotel room long-term so I can be here every day.”

“ Every day ?!” I exclaim.

At my raised voice, Finley comes barreling toward us. “Holy crap! Christian Riley’s in my house!” He launches himself at the playboy hockey player with a squeal of delight, as if the man he barely knows is now his favorite person in the world.

And I guess I’m a little jealous that while I was the one getting up three or four times a night to feed him as a baby, to worry about his every breath from the first one he took after a long, hard labor, I’m not a superstar athlete, just his boring, jobless, talentless mother.

Christian scoops Finley up effortlessly, his face breaking into a wide grin as he props him on his hip. “Hey, buddy. How have you been?”

“I’m good, but why are you here?” Finley asks, jumping right into this surprise visit headfirst, as if it’s too good to be true.

“Your Uncle Preston and mom said I could spend time with you over this summer. What do you think? Are you up for hanging out with me?”

“Heck yes!”

I take a step back to watch the two of them together, my arms still crossed over my chest, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and unease.

This version of Christian makes it all so hard to stay wary of him—the one who acts so charming, sweet, and utterly devoted to Finley. It makes me question all the doubts and fears that kept me from telling Christian he’s a father.

Maybe…maybe I was wrong to think he wouldn’t care about Finley, wouldn’t love him, just because he didn’t love me.

Five years ago, I didn’t think he was capable of loving anyone but himself.

That’s why this version of him scares me the most. I was stupid to fall for it, to think he was mine when he so easily walked away when I needed his help to decide what to do.

And I know he’s not really changed in the dating department, not after how he treated Elle…

But still, I want this warm, loving Christian to be real, for Finley’s sake.

If I’m wrong, though, and he hurts my son in any way, I will kick his big, athletic ass.

“Mommy, can me and Christian play hockey in the backyard?” Finley asks me when Christian finally lowers him back to the ground.

He calls it hockey even though it’s a modified field hockey version with sticks, a plastic ball, and two goals.

“That’s fine with me, but you should ask Christian first.”

My son, our son, tips his head back and blinks his big, brown eyes at his hero, making Christian laugh.

“Hell yes, we can play hockey,” the playboy says with a grin before quickly eying me. “I mean, heck yes. Do you have two sticks?”

“My Uncle Preston has lots of hockey sticks! I use his instead of the other weird looking field hockey ones! He let me keep some when he moved out, but I still miss him.”

Christian again looks to me, and I know I’m not going to like what he’s about to say to Finley. “Then you and your mom should definitely come visit me in Greensboro…”

“That’s where Uncle Preston moved!” Finley remarks excitedly.

“I know. He came to see me just yesterday. We’re going to both play for the Bobcats this season.”

Finley scowls at me as if angry at me for withholding this information. “Mommy, I don’t have a Bobcats jersey with Uncle Preston’s number on it! You don’t either.”

“I’m sure he’ll give us one when the season starts,” I tell him.

“Until then, you’ll just have to wear mine, right?” Christian says with a smile that Finley returns with a nod. Glancing back at me, he adds, “I could hook you up with one, too, Maya. I’ve always wanted to see you in one of my jerseys.”

“Finley, why don’t you go find those hockey sticks?” I suggest, wanting to buy myself another moment to talk to his father. I have no doubt that if the playboy imagined me in his jersey, then that’s all I’m wearing. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“I’ll be right back!” Finley yells as he runs off to his room.

“New rules: Don’t put ideas in his head about moving to Greensboro and forget about me wearing anything of yours,” I warn him.

“I didn’t say anything about moving,” the jackass replies, still smiling like a smug fool. “I just said you should both come visit me in Greensboro.”

“Same thing. He’s upset enough as it is that Preston moved out.”

Finally, Christian’s perpetual smile slips. “Finley’s lived with Preston his whole life, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. The move…it’s been a big change. One he’s still really upset about.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here to take his mind off Preston moving, isn’t it?” Again, he flashes me his panty-dropping smirk that I wish had never worked on me. Unfortunately, though, I can feel my comfortable cotton briefs inching down my hips even before the handsome bastard says, “I don’t just want to see Finley this summer. I want to see you too.”

He wants to see me too? I try not to read too much into that statement, but it’s impossible.

Christian’s tongue wets his lips in that awkward yet sexy way he used to do when he wasn’t sure what to say. “So, if I get a hotel room nearby, could I come over every day?”

“Every day?”

“Every day this summer.”

“Let’s start with every day for the rest of this week,” I tell him. Oh crap. Did I just agree to an entire week of Christian Riley in my house? “We’ll have to see how that goes before you try to move your arrogant ass into our house.”

The man blinks at me, not because of the insult, but at my teasing comment. “Preston’s room is empty, right?”

“Oh, hell no,” I tell him.

“Mom! You said H-E-double hockey sticks,” Finley huffs in admonishment when he returns, holding up the two sticks that just so happen to be in his hands, making me wince.

“You’re right. I should’ve said heck, oh, heck no. Don’t even think about it,” I point my finger and lower my voice in warning at Christian. The man flashes me that patented grin that causes my denim shorts to drop an inch before I quickly tug them back into place.

Christian’s eyes lower, as if just noticing my attire. His hazel eyes sweep over my bare legs for several long moments before moving up. They refuse to budge from my chest even after I clear my throat.

I know he was a boob guy back when we dated. Christian had begged to feel me up on our first date because he said he had dreamed of getting his hands on them. And I stupidly agreed since I had never felt sexier in my life than I did sitting on the tailgate of his old truck, listening to a ridiculously romantic playlist. God, I think the date box with the link to the songs is still stuffed in the top of my closet.

So much has changed since that night. I’m no longer an innocent, gullible girl with a silly crush. Now I’m a single mother with a silly crush and boobs twice as big after having Finley. Which Christian seems enamored of.

His eyes finally lift to mine, not even a hint of embarrassment in them for getting caught gawking. In fact, his gaze reveals so much raw need that I must quickly look away.

“Go play before it gets too hot out,” I tell them. “Dinner is at six. Hands need to be washed before the clock ticks over to the hour.”

“You’re not going to come watch us?” Christian asks, his slightly deeper voice teasing. I wonder if he remembers how I used to spend all my free afternoons watching my brother and Christian’s hockey practices like a lovesick fool instead of studying, even before I knew Christian had any interest in me.

“I’ve got some cleaning to do, so maybe later.”

Sitting and watching Christian run around our backyard is the last thing I need to be doing today. And I have to try to trust him. If he can’t keep Finley uninjured in my backyard for two hours, then we’ve got serious problems.

“Be careful!” I still yell after them when they head outside through the kitchen door.