Page 92

THIRTY-SIX

MILLIE

Camden drops into a seat and pats the empty one beside him, signaling for me to take it, his smile nothing but genuine.

“She’s sitting with me,” Daniel says, motioning to the empty spot beside him and zeroing in on me. “I want answers, and you’ve been avoiding me.”

Stomach in knots, I settle in beside Camden. I’ve had just about enough with the attitudes of the men in my life today. I’m not answering my brother’s inquisition any more than I’m dealing with the asshole up front.

We had a moment last night with the piano. I know we did. I don’t even know what to make of his admission that he bought it for me. When? Why? His vulnerable admission was a slip of the tongue, obviously, but it was something. Which just means that now he’s putting even more distance between us. One step forward, seven hundred back.

“Oh, looks like you’re hanging with me, Playboy.” Aiden plops down next to my brother.

My brother shoots daggers at me, then turns to Camden and holds two fingers out, motioning from his eyes to his buddy and back in the universal sign for I’m watching you .

The guy beside me laughs. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Camden.” He holds out his hand, and when I slide my palm against his, he squeezes it gently.

A gentleman. How nice.

“Millie, or as everyone here likes to call me, Baby Hall.”

He grins, and his dimple pops. His nose is crooked—probably from being broken a time or two—but he’s pretty all the same. “How’s working with Coach?”

My smile is a bit more forced this time. Terrible. Awful . Yet I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

If the term glutton for punishment had a face, it’d look like mine.

“It’s fine. Vivi’s a peach, so it makes my job easy.” The minute the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. How is it that one man could single-handedly destroy a saying—hell, the name of an innocent piece of fruit—like that?

I’m going to need a new drink of choice if our relationship doesn’t turn a corner soon.

“She’s a cute kid. Still can’t believe someone could just dump her like that.”

Aiden scowls at Camden in a way that looks so foreign on his typically cheerful face.

Oblivious, Camden keeps talking. “I was there, ya know? It was crazy.”

Nibbling on my lip, I consider whether to ask when this was. If anyone knows who the mother is. Whether Gavin has spoken to her. But that would be inappropriate. It’s none of my business. And also, Aiden might bite our heads off if we keep this conversation going.

“Hey,” I say to Aiden, another thought popping into my head. “I met someone who knows you.”

Aiden’s smile is back in place, his warm brown eyes relaxed. He’s got the same chiseled jaw as Gavin does, along with the rest of the Langfield men, but his golden-brown curls give him a boyish charm that softens the severity of the feature. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“Lennox Kennedy.”

His eyes flash bright, and he opens his mouth, but no words come out.

“When did you see Lennox?”

The feminine voice startles me, and I spin in my seat.

The woman in the seat behind me is dressed in black slacks and a blue sweater and has blond hair pulled into a ponytail and vibrant blue eyes.

Beside her, Brooks Langfield nods to me. The man is a beast. Thick wavy brown hair just a smidgen longer than Aiden’s and wise green eyes. If it was possible to make a copy of Aiden and enlarge it by about 20 percent, it would look just like Brooks. He’s built like a giant—perfect for his position as goalie—but he’s got the gentlest personality of all the Langfields.

“This is Sara, my girlfriend. She heads PR for the team.”

Sara…Sara…why does that sound familiar?

Oh shit, Sara is Lennox’s best friend. The one whose apartment she’s squatting in. “Oh, I met her in a coffee shop,” I fib.

Sara looks at Brooks and frowns. “When did she get back into town?”

Aiden clears his throat. “She mentioned me?”

Brooks barks out a laugh behind me. “Could you be more obvious?”

I shimmy my shoulders, still turned halfway around. “Obvious about what? What’s the tea?”

Sara sits back in her chair, her shoulders lowering, and eyes Aiden, then me. “Just that Aiden has a little crush he doesn’t want to talk about.”

“Do not.” Aiden’s tone is comical, like a five-year-old saying he doesn’t have cooties.

I arch my brow. “That’s too bad, because she certainly seemed—” I tap my finger on my lips, searching for the right word—“wistful.”

“ Yes . You thought so too?” Sara scoots forward and leans around my seat. “Because she acts so strange every time I bring him up.”

“Yeah, I could see that. Like maybe she has a lot more to say but is afraid to talk about it?”

Sara slaps her hand on my armrest. “Exactly.”

“Hello! I’m right here.” Aiden waves, making us all laugh.

“Dude, dump Jill,” Brooks says.

Those three words are like a bucket of cold water. Aiden clams up, and the rest of us shift in our seats a little awkwardly.

“Switch seats with me,” Daniel says to Camden.

“Oh my god, are you serious right now?” I glare at my brother. “There’s nothing to tell. No need to grill me. I’m nannying, and now I get to travel with you to your games. Don’t drive me nuts, or I’ll hang with Camden tonight instead of you.”

My brother glowers at the man beside me. “Wipe that damn smile off your face. You aren’t spending any time with my sister alone.”

I laugh as I lean back in my seat and pull out my phone to put it on airplane mode. “I’m done with you.” I slip an earbud into the ear closest to Daniel and turn to Camden. “So, tell me about yourself.”

Camden stretches out beside me, his arm bumping mine on the armrest, and tells me all about his life as a professional hockey player. It takes real talent to keep from full-on beaming at the daggers my brother is launching at us the entire time. We’re about forty minutes into the hour-long flight to New York, and I’m laughing hard at yet another of Camden’s stories, when Vivi lets out a wail. An instant later, a red-faced Gavin appears next to my seat, bouncing an equally red-faced Vivi in his arms.

“Is she o?—”

“Could you come help me, please?” Gavin growls, his eyes dark. “And you—” He glowers at Camden, and when he notices how close our arms are positioned on the armrest, his expression goes murderous. “I told you to stay away from my nanny.”

“Hey,” I hiss, quickly unbuckling and reaching for a now screaming Vivi. I rub circles on her back and storm to the front of the plane.

It seems we’ve taken another seven thousand steps back.

The hall is silent as Gavin waves the key card in front of the sensor. After a solid hour, Vivi finally settled down and fell asleep. When we checked in, Gavin told the front desk to move us to a room where we wouldn’t disturb his players or other guests in case the crying started up again, so we’re at the end of what looks like a deserted floor. I’m just thinking it’s a pretty great setup when we step inside and realize this is a one-bedroom suite with a single king-size bed.

“I’ll go lay her down,” I offer, glancing at the couch and hoping like hell it pulls out.

Gavin’s jaw ticks as he eyes it too.

The blinds in the bedroom are already closed, and the light at the door casts enough of a glow to allow me to see what I’m doing as I settle Vivi on the bed and stack pillows around her to keep her there for a moment while I set up the playpen. Poor thing wore herself out with all the crying.

Out in the main room, I find Gavin pulling out the couch. “Here, let me help.” I tiptoe to the closet to find the bedding, and when I return, the bed is out and the cushions are thrown beside it haphazardly.

“I’ve got it.” He reaches for the bundle of bedding in my arms.

I pull them to my chest and turn away. “I’ll do it. It’s my bed.”

“You’re not sleeping on the pull-out.”

I grip the bedding tighter and take a step back. “Well, you certainly aren’t.”

Eyes downcast, he heaves out a breath, his chest rising and falling. “We’re not sharing a bed.”

I can’t hold back the aggravated sound that works its way from my throat. “Oh my god, Gavin. I’m not trying to share a fucking bed. It’s my job to watch Vivi. You need sleep so you’re ready for the game. I’ll set up the playpen by the couch and sleep out here with her. Shut the door and put on headphones or something.”

“No.”

“Do you realize how unreasonable you’re being? You’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m the help. So it makes sense that I belong on the couch.”

Gavin works his jaw, and then he deflates. “You’re not?—”

My phone rings, and he snaps his mouth shut.

Dammit. I silently groan, frustrated that, for the first time, he seemed like he might say something worth hearing, but my damn phone had to interrupt the moment. I quickly pull it out of my pocket and silence it.

When I do, Gavin is already across the room, standing in front of the bedroom door.

“Take it outside,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to wake the baby.” With that, he steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.

I squeeze the sheets in my fists and hold in another silent scream. This man and his mood swings are going to be the fucking death of me.