Page 26 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Chelsea pulled her phone out of her purse and opened her calendar as well. “Okay, well, we’ve already planned a date—a family date—for the day after tomorrow.”

“Are you working with Ethan that day?”

“Only in the morning.”

“Great.” Preston typed the words Family Date on his calendar. “So what if you and Lennon come to my place around one? I can send you the address.”

“Your place?”

“I want us to spend as much time as we can together, and I want you to see my condo, tell me how to baby-fy it. I suspect it will be easier to take care of him if we’re at home. I could come to your parents’ house if you?—”

“No,” she interjected, unwilling to subject Preston to her mother’s fifth degree so soon in their reunion. Given Mom’s unflattering list of concerns, it would be better to give her time to accept Preston’s presence in Lennon’s life. “No. It would be better at your place.”

“Great. We can order in lunch and dinner and just hang out. You can teach me all the things,” he said with a grin. “Like diaper changing and when naptime happens and how he likes to be held, stuff like that. I’ve already ordered a playpen and some toys that’ll arrive before your visit, so maybe?—”

“You what?” Chelsea thought she might’ve heard him wrong. He’d only discovered he was a father eight hours ago.

Preston gave her that same sexy, charming grin that had turned her head the night of the holiday party.

“I pulled up an internet site on essentials for babies five minutes after walking out of the bakery. Spent the rest of my walk home reading reviews, then placing an order. I only ordered the playpen to start because I want your opinion on the crib, car seat, high chair, baby tub, and other stuff. But I figured the playpen was a good place to start because it’s versatile.

It’s adjustable so it works as a bassinet, too, and it even has a changing station attachment. ”

Chelsea shook her head, trying to process the fact he’d already gone to so much effort. “I think it’s sweet that you’ve already bought stuff.”

“Is there anything else I need to buy for him before our date? Diapers? Wipes? Maybe a playmat for the floor?”

“No,” she said. “I can bring all of that with me.”

“Okay. We can do some online shopping for the rest of the stuff while we’re at my condo.”

Chelsea figured she should respond to that, but right now, her mind was whirling over everything he’d said. For someone who claimed they could start slow, Preston seemed to be doing the exact opposite. He was moving at warp speed, and she was struggling to keep up.

The problem was, they couldn’t really take this as slow as she might be comfortable with because Lennon wasn’t going to stop growing. It wasn’t fair of her to let Preston miss out on any more of their son’s tiny, daily milestones, simply because she was unable to share him.

They fell silent for a few minutes, each of them finishing their dinner and drinks. It wasn’t an awkward silence. In fact, it felt deliberate on Preston’s part. Like he could tell she was overwrought, and he was giving her time to calm her thoughts.

She and Rick had known each other all their lives, and he’d never been able to read her like this man, who’d known her…God, what? When she did the math, she figured she and Preston had spent less than twenty-four hours together. Yet, it felt like more. Felt like they were years beyond that.

Probably because they’d made those hours count, holding back nothing from each other.

She’d opened up to him that first night together about things she’d never told anyone, and he had done the same.

If Chelsea was prone to flights of fantasy, she’d think perhaps the two of them were soul mates, that they’d known each other in a previous life.

Then she did an internal eye roll.

Yeah, right. That’s totally what’s happening here.

Padraig came back to clear the table. “Do you want some dessert?”

Preston looked at her, and Chelsea shook her head.

“Just the check,” he said.

Padraig went back to the bar, returning quickly. Preston slid him a credit card, despite Chelsea reaching for her own wallet.

“Let me go halfsies,” she insisted.

Preston refused. “Nope. I invited you. I’m paying.”

“Then I’ll pay for the takeout for our family date.”

The look Preston gave her said he had no intention of agreeing to that.

Padraig returned, he and Preston making small talk about tomorrow night’s game in Boston as he signed the receipt.

“Good luck,” Padraig told him, before turning to her. “It was really nice to meet you, Chelsea.”

“You too,” she said, once again getting the feeling that Padraig knew her somehow. She glanced at the time on her phone. “I should probably head home. This is the longest I’ve been away from Lennon, and…”

Preston grinned. “You miss him.”

“It’s silly, I know, because he’s most likely been asleep the entire time I’ve been away, but…

” She stopped herself from saying more because it occurred to her she was pouring salt in Preston’s wounds, complaining about being away from Lennon for a few hours when he’d missed so much time with his son. Months.

“Text me your address?” she asked.

Preston picked up his phone and did so immediately. Chelsea’s eyes widened a bit. She knew the area where he lived. It was an upscale neighborhood on the waterfront.

“We’ll be there at one,” she promised.

“I can’t wait. Come on. I’ll walk you out.

” Preston reached down, helping her out of the booth, a shiver of—God—desire snaking down her spine when he placed his hand on the small of her back.

She hadn’t had sex since their one night together, and she hadn’t felt a drop of arousal since then.

Granted, she’d been sick for three months—morning sickness was no joke—and then big as a whale during the final trimester.

After Lennon’s birth, an exhaustion that went bone deep took over, more powerful than anything else.

Preston, with his simple, innocent touch, had reawakened the dragon, and she was suddenly salivating for more.

He walked her all the way to her car, the two of them standing next to it on the curb. She turned to face him, glancing up at her big, friendly giant just as he bent his head down to her.

She drew in a surprised, thrilled breath when he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

It was slow and sweet and nowhere near enough.

Chelsea was tempted to grab his shoulders, drag him back down, and show him how to do it properly, because that attraction she felt for Preston last year had only grown in the twelve months since.

Grown until it was nearly as large as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in Ghostbusters .

Fortunately, her brain kicked in just in the nick of time, and she pulled back, instantly sorry when she saw…disappointment?…flash in Preston’s eyes.

She shoved that regret aside because they were about to begin co-parenting their son. That had to take precedence over everything else, including her raging hormones. Things between them right now were nice and peaceful and friendly, and she had to make sure they stayed that way.

Chelsea hated that her mom’s negativity was worming its way in, planting poisonous seeds in her thoughts.

But how nice would Preston be if they gave in to the sparks that were clearly still there, and things went south? Would he fight her for Lennon? The word custody was powerful enough to cause her to take a big step back.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, hating how thin her voice sounded.

Preston frowned, studying her face, sensing the change in her. The man was too damn observant for her good.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Chelsea.”

“Good night, Preston.” She climbed into her car on unsteady legs, her stomach cramping as uncertainty and fear reared their ugly heads.

Until she and Preston were on steadier ground, she needed to keep her distance from him physically and emotionally. Which meant no more hand-holding and no more kissing and no more dreams of picking up where they’d left off last year.

Because it was her son’s future on the line.