Page 20 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Instead, Mom thought the money should have been put into a college savings fund.

And while Chelsea had done that with some of it—Agnes had been an extremely wealthy woman—she ultimately decided she wanted to honor Agnes’s request that the money be spent toward the bakery.

After all, Chelsea could spend the next however many years of her life working barely better than minimum-wage bakery jobs, or she could turn the money into an investment, offering a better future for her and her baby.

For the next hour, she and Ethan debated which pieces of equipment they absolutely needed prior to opening the shop and which were things that could wait until they were more established.

“Dough sheeter? What the hell is a dough sheeter?” Ethan asked.

Chelsea was about to explain why that piece was on her must-have list when the front door to the shop opened. The bell Ethan hung above the door approximately five seconds after they got the keys to the place—claiming it was old-school charming—rang out.

“Sorry,” Ethan said, glancing toward the front. “We’re not op?—”

Chelsea looked up from her list when her best friend stopped talking, her attention sliding to the door.

She gasped, momentarily distracted by Ethan gasping as well.

Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her.

She rose slowly, afraid to blink in case she was imagining his presence, aware Ethan was doing the same, his moves mirroring hers as if they’d choreographed it.

“Preston,” she and Ethan said in unison.

What the hell?

Ethan didn’t know Preston. He hadn’t been at the holiday party.

Then, Ethan did her one better, because he didn’t stop speaking, adding a last name to the first.

“Jacobson.”

Chelsea’s gaze flew to her best friend. “You know him?”

“Of course,” Ethan replied, not taking his eyes off Preston until…

She saw the second the light went on as her best friend’s back straightened, Ethan’s gaze traveling from Preston, to her, to the sleeping baby in the stroller behind them.

“ Preston? ” Ethan asked her.

She nodded just once, before turning as Preston walked into the bakery, the door closing behind him. He hadn’t said a word. Rather, he looked curious—and confused—by her interaction with Ethan.

Meanwhile, she couldn’t stop herself from drinking him in, because how the hell did he manage to get even hotter in the last year?

“Chelsea,” Preston said, as he approached the table, standing close enough that she could reach out and touch him. His gray eyes were locked on her face, and she got the sense he was having the same trouble. Too afraid to blink, to believe. “I never thought I’d?—”

A tiny cry distracted him, and Preston’s attention went to the stroller he just now noticed. His brow furrowed as she turned, bending over to pick up the baby, before facing him once more.

“Hey, hey, little man,” Ethan said, stroking the side of the baby’s face. “Don’t cry.”

Preston was studying them closely, but damn if his poker face wasn’t rock solid. She didn’t have a clue what he was thinking.

She cleared her throat. “Preston,” she said, though his name came out rough and tight, as she fought to speak. All she wanted to do after discovering she was pregnant was find him so she could tell him about the baby.

So why, when he was standing right in front of her, couldn’t she?

“Um…”

Months of guilt were washed away in an instant, replaced by…fuck…

Everything.

Nervousness, happiness, relief…and even fear over his reaction.

What if he denied or rejected his paternity?

What if he didn’t?

Chelsea didn’t know what to make of the fact that the second question scared her more than the first. For the first three months of his life, her baby had been just that—hers. Now, however, that was all about to change, and it terrified her.

Since she and Preston both looked like deer in the headlights, Ethan took over, reaching into the small cooler she’d brought with her, pulling out a bottle of milk, and handing it to her as the baby continued to fuss.

Her gaze traveled between the men. “Ethan, how do you know Preston?”

“Preston Jacobson plays for the Baltimore Stingrays, Cupcake.” Ethan ran a fingertip down her cheek, grinning.

“You really should’ve said yes when I invited you to all those games.

Especially the ones since the start of the season…

in October. I could’ve even loaned you his jersey,” he added in a whisper she hoped Preston couldn’t hear.

Ethan was literally the world’s biggest Stingrays fan on the planet, attending as many home games as he could afford, and the owner of more jerseys than the players themselves probably had.

He’d been trying to drag her and Allyson to games for years, but they’d always turned him down, comparing going to a hockey game to pap smears, trips to the dentist, and helping a friend move.

They’d made a game of coming up with a long list of shit they’d much rather do.

To be honest, Chelsea wasn’t as opposed to attending a game as she was giving up the gag over not going.

If she’d gone in October…

Preston didn’t acknowledge the introduction.

Instead, his eyes were locked on the baby in her arms.

“It looks like congratulations are in order, Chelsea,” he said stiffly.

Oh no. Did he think that she and Ethan were a couple? And that the baby…

This was bad.

Really, really bad.