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Chapter Five

Adeline

I had no idea what possessed me to come rushing out and offer my services. Maybe it was my dad’s pleading or my mom’s insistence I didn’t have to do a thing. Maybe it was the helplessness of that kid who was being shoved from pillar to post and needed stability more than anything else.

Spoiler: none of the above.

It was because Lars had been honest about his inability to ask for help, which I took as his way of putting himself out there and well, asking for help in a typically male way. I couldn’t refuse a man in need, especially when a child’s welfare was on the line.

“So, do you live in a house?”

“No, I live in a shack under the bridge.”

I chuckled because that did sound stupid. “I meant, versus a condo. Just thinking about your square footage.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My square footage?”

My cheeks heated. I couldn’t win here.

I caught his reflection in the mirror. That was exactly how he interpreted it, and look at us, joking around. Ah, progress.

“My square footage is more than adequate.”

I rolled my eyes, which earned me another Lars laugh, warm as whiskey and twice as potent.

“How come you’re doing this, Adeline? Did you fall for my hard luck story back there?”

“Maybe I’m curious to see where you live. And if you can turn your bachelor pad into a suitable home for a kid.”

He sighed. “This is madness, isn’t it?”

“A little. But guys find out they’ve knocked someone up all the time. Witness the Great Love Story, Trademark, of Theo and Elle Kershaw.”

“The Great Love Story, Trademark?”

“Just a family joke. Like this epic love they have is so unique it has to be trademarked.” I paused a second, so my curiosity didn’t come off as too rabid. “What happened with you and Mabel’s mom?”

“Boy meets girl, girl neglects to mention she’s married, boy and girl have a whale of a time, boy’s left thinking he’s in the clear but then his world implodes over a year later. Definitely not a great love story, trademark or otherwise.”

“And her solution is to drop the baby off at the Empty Net after a game?” I gave a low whistle. “That’s one way of handling it.”

“She’s not in a good place. The mom, that is. I have people looking for her. Given her marital situation and the desperate measures, I’d like some assurance that she’s safe.”

I would never have thought of that. This woman had lied her ass off, landed him in hot water, and upended his life, yet he was concerned for her well-being. Point to Nyquist.

“You don’t think she’s going to do something stupid, do you?”

“No, nothing like that. If anything I got the impression that she was doing this to save her marriage. But if this guy told her it was the baby or him, then that makes me concerned for her safety. He might be violent or abusive. Also, I’d like to talk to her.

Tell her that we can figure out a plan. I have resources. ”

“That’s probably why she dropped her off—because you are the ultimate resource. Financially, anyway.” That came out harsher than intended.

“True, I can throw money at the situation but I’m not sure I can do much else.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond because we’d turned into the driveway of a townhouse. It was faux Tudor style, and I could tell the square footage would be just fine.

As for the man beside me, I wasn’t so sure about that.

This was a huge change for him. Luckily Mabel seemed like a good-natured kid, but still, she was barely seven months old. She needed twenty-four-seven care.

Not your problem, Adeline. You’re here to get him set up and go on your way.

Leaving Lars to figure out unstrapping the car seat, I gathered as many supplies as I could and started stacking them at the door. By the time I was beginning the third trip from the car, Lars had freed Mabel and was carrying her up the steps.

“Leave the rest of the stuff. You’re not a porter.”

“You’re going to have your hands full for a while, so I’d take all the help I could get if I were you.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like an ingrate. Thanks for being here.”

He sounded so sincere, and my heart fluttered a little. Enough of that, silly girl.

I busied myself with taking in all the baby equipment, a task that worked semi-decently to calm my racing pulse.

It wasn’t as if I were starved for affection or kindness—my family was the kindest and most embarrassingly affectionate people on the planet.

Yet here I was, simpering at Lars Nyquist’s gratitude.

Or maybe it was that softness that came over him when he realized he was coming off as too gruff.

I was a sucker for it, so I needed to shore up those defenses as quickly as possible.

What a difference twenty-four hours made.

One day later the Empty Net was no longer the rowdy, spectacle-drenched bar where one-night stands dumped babies into the arms of shocked professional hockey players. Though I wasn’t convinced the drama-free atmosphere would last long.

“You did what?” Punctuating the screeching in my face, Rosie added a good shoulder shake.

Let me tell you more about my friend. Rosie was what could be best described as an experimenter and a truth-teller, except when it came to herself.

I could always count on her in good times and bad, and though she was a couple of years older than me, she never treated me like a kid.

She did, on occasion, treat me as an innocent in the ways of the world, particularly as she had no problem attracting men while I was generally man-repellent.

I was the stick-in-the-mud to her free spirit, and we balanced each other beautifully.

“I just helped carry some stuff into his house. That’s all.”

Then I left in an Uber. After two hours and ten minutes.

I couldn’t just drop and dash. We set up the crib in Lars’s bedroom—his idea, so he could keep an eye on her—and I organized the supplies while trying not to nose about his space, which was expectedly masculine, shockingly neat, and boringly impersonal.

I showed him how to heat up the formula using the bottle warmer and watched while he fed the baby.

It was a lot of information for the guy to take in.

It bothered me to go but if I hadn’t left then, I don’t think I would have left at all.

Before I did, I made an emergency appointment with Pepper, who was married to former Rebels player, Bast Durand.

An early childhood education specialist with a childproofing business, she would come in tomorrow and make sure Lars’s home was safe for Mabel.

“So, you’re like his personal assistant,” Summer said, completely straight-faced. She’d always struck me as a gentle soul and not given to heavy dollops of sarcasm.

“More like a family friend.”

Rosie snorted.

Summer stared at her. “What’s that about?”

Rosie shot a quick look of semi-apology at me. My historical hankering for Lars Nyquist was not common knowledge. As I was 99% certain that I was long over it, discussion was probably harmless, plus giving it air would prove I was on the right side of this thing.

“I may have once harbored a minor crush on Lars.” Summer’s eyes went wide while I pointed at Rosie. “I’m over him.”

“Didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to. And even if I wasn’t, then it wouldn’t matter. I won’t be working for him as his nanny.”

Summer’s mouth dropped open. “He asked you to do that?”

“No, my parents did. He’s in a bind but he’ll be interviewing candidates tomorrow. An agency is sending them over.”

Rosie took a sip of her Dovetail Hefeweizen (the Empty Net had really stepped up its local brewery game). “Does anyone really think he can get someone hired and installed in a day, though? That’s majorly wishful. He needs to be on a plane the day after tomorrow for the New York game.”

Summer’s mouth twitched. “Zara Jacobs took three months to hire the right nanny. Then she fired her, and took another two for her second round.” Zara was married to Cody, one of the players.

“It takes time to do that process correctly. Never mind that, though! I want to know more about this crush of yours.”

I thought I’d gotten away with it. “Like I said, a schoolgirl thing. When he arrived on the team, oh, five-ish years ago, I was gaga for him. Mrs. Adeline Nyquist in my notebooks, social media stalking, the usual. And then—” I paused and sent a glance toward Rosie, who looked sympathetic.

“About a year ago, he overheard me talking about how I thought he was the sexiest guy alive.”

Summer clamped a hand over her mouth. “No!”

“Oh, but yes.”

“How did he respond?”

“He was cool about it, and we were re-clearing the air last night when he was bamboozled by a baby.”

“That’s wild!” Summer touched a finger to her chin. “He’s probably forgotten all about it, now that he has other things on his mind.”

“Not sure he even remembered it at all until I ran into him last night.” That was how low on Lars Nyquist’s radar I fell. The worst—or second worst—thing that had ever happened to me was barely a blip for him. “But you’re right, he definitely has his hands full.”

“And you don’t have a crush on him anymore?” Summer’s sharp look gave the question an uncomfortable weight.

“Not at all! I’ve done a lot of growing up this last year.” I exchanged a quick glance with Rosie, who gave me a smile of support. She was the only person who knew about the assault in Greece, and while I was sharing light-hearted crushes with Summer, I wouldn’t be talking about that.

“So he overheard you saying something nice about him.” Summer waved it off. “No big deal!”

“Exactly. It was just a crazy lapse in judgment, but no harm, no foul.” Rosie was being remarkably quiet about it all, so I gave her a chance to weigh in. “Right?”

“Sure. You know your limits.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you’re going to take this nanny job, you have to understand the boundaries.”

I bristled. “Who said anything about taking this nanny job? I specifically said I would not be taking it.”

“Yeah, but that was before you helped him with his equipment.”

“Hilarious.”

Rosie grinned. “His baby equipment.”

I shivered, not unpleasantly. “I’m not taking that job.”

“You heard Summer. How likely is it he’ll have a nanny by—” Rosie checked an imaginary time piece on her wrist. “Tomorrow? And when that doesn’t happen, who’ll be on the hook to watch this baby?”

My heart sank as the obvious conclusion dawned on me. “My mom.”

“Your mom. The same mom who just got through raising a toddler and already has her hands full now that said toddler is in the fearsome fours.”

“That’s not a thing,” I interjected. “It’s terrible twos. And Tilly’s in preschool.”

“My point still stands. Your parents are the nearest Lars has to family in this town. Your dad’s practically his best friend and your mom is always cooking him meals. Aurora even named a martini after him.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, Hatch said. Scandi Noir, she called it. Finlandia vodka with grapefruit.”

“Oh, that sounds awesome,” Summer cut in.

“Doesn’t it?” Rosie went on. “So in the absence of an actual nanny, your mom will take it upon herself to look after the kid and it’ll be weeks before official childcare comes through. And she has her job, right? Your brother was saying she just contracted a new project.”

My mom ran an information consultancy firm where she helped companies manage and leverage their knowledge assets. It was deep, in the weeds work. One of the reasons why I’d stayed home to look after Tilly was so she could continue to run her business without interruption.

As well as being remarkably well-informed, Rosie was right. Elle Kershaw was a freakin’ saint and who else would volunteer to help? Sure, there were other hockey WAGs, but which of them would jump in at the deep end like my mom had done already?

It didn’t mean that I should be volunteering my services, though. “He’ll find someone.”

Rosie nodded wisely. “Sure, he will.”