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“Does that mean you stink at golf too?” I feign innocence, as if I don’t know that I’m pushing his buttons, but I’m secretly eating up these details about Tyler’s life outside of hockey.

“Hey, watch it,” he says with a smile that tells me he likes my teasing.

“Do you guys need to start a club for pro athletes who flounder on the links?”

“Damn, woman, you pull no punches.”

“And you wouldn’t want it any other way,” I say, feeling bold. Because he likes my style of bold.

Briefly, though, I wonder—am I doing such a good job at being a super nanny? Does a super nanny flirt with her boss like this?

But then I shove those thoughts away. I’m not nannying right now, and we’re just having fun.

Just in case, I shift gears when there’s a break in the action. “Do you go there a lot to see your friends?” I ask.

“I do, yeah. Holden lives there with his kids. Some of my other dad friends do too,” he adds. “We get together whenever we can for bocce ball and other lawn games.”

“A single dads club?”

He seems to give that some thought. “You know…maybe it is.”

I lean closer. “Cheeseball.”

“Watch it, Snow,” he warns, but he’s still squeezing my hand. He shoots me a look—the kind that lingers just a second too long. The kind that feels like it should’ve happened months ago.

And this? This feels perfect in a new way.

Like a perfect date.

Especially when the Renegades pull out a win, and as we make our way out of the packed stadium—along with the spilled popcorn, the beers, and the happy fans—Tyler asks if I want to meet Holden .

“Sure, but what if I think he’s cuter than you?” I ask, all innocent.

His eyes darken, and he tugs me toward him. “I’ll have to spank you for that.”

“Promise?”

His expression turns feral.

And we’re not heading toward the authorized personnel area any longer.

It takes forever to get out of the stadium lot, and once we do, there’s a whole city to traverse. But as we go, Tyler keeps one hand on the wheel, the other on my thigh.

Sliding it up and down, up and down.

And I had no idea I’d be ready to climb him just from his hand on my leg. But I am. I’m a hot, wet mess.

“Are you trying to break our schedule?” I ask.

“Been thinking about that sex schedule,” he says as we near the house, and right now, I wouldn’t mind if he threw it out. I really wouldn’t.

“What about it?”

We reach his home, and he lets go of my leg to open the garage. “We never said we couldn’t do…” As soon as he parks the car and cuts the engine, he grabs my face and says, “this,” before he pulls me in for a hot, searing kiss.

My brain pops. My senses fry. And I melt in the car. Then I heat up when he tugs on my lower lip with a growl.

He kisses me harder, recklessly, the kind of quick make-out in the front seat that feels like it could lead to more.

But even as he kisses me like I’m his new guilty pleasure, I can feel his restraint too. It’s in his arms, his muscles coiled. It’s in his stance—close but not too close. And it’s in the clock, ticking in my mind .

The kids will be home soon.

Elle will be dropping them off.

I don’t want to be a disheveled mess in front of her.

But I also really want this man to kiss me some more. So I grab his face, running my fingers through his beard, and I turn the table, kissing him hungrily. Then I can barely take the distance between us, so I take my chances, swiftly moving into his lap.

Then I smile at him. “We’re not having sex.”

“So we’re not breaking our schedule,” he replies as he curls his big hands over my ass and grinds me up and down.

I glance back at the clock.

They’ll be home soon.

Any minute, really.

I should stop.

But I keep rubbing myself on him, and he keeps working me up and down on his dick, his breathing growing more staggered with every passing thrust.

“Fuck, baby,” he grits out. “This is hard to stick to.”

“I know,” I breathe out.

And I’m nearly ready to throw in the towel this early. I dip my face closer, seeking out a hot, messy kiss that’ll blow my mind, but instead…he grips me tighter—then gently moves me off him, setting me back in my seat with a clear intention.

“I’m sorry, but I need to get a grip because all I want right now is to fuck all that sass right out of you,” he says. “And I also do not want to answer the door with a raging boner, so I’d better go inside and think about…I don’t know, kittens or Frozen tunes.”

A laugh bursts from me at the image of this man trying to hide the flagpole in his pants, but inside I'm dying. The ache between my legs won’t abate, and my whole body is screaming at me to climb back onto him .

“I can answer it,” I offer, grateful to be helpful again. To play Super Nanny. “I can hide my lady boner.”

And now it’s Tyler’s turn to crack up. “Would you do that for me? I don’t think I can deflate that quickly.”

Is it weird that I love that he’s asked me to help on this count? If it’s weird, I don’t want to be normal.

Less than four minutes later, I’ve smoothed out my hair, dusted powder against my flushed cheeks, and I’m swinging open the door, pushing our sex schedule out of my head as fast as I can.

“Sabrina!” Luna shouts. “Mom took us to the wildlife sanctuary in Darling Springs. They had foxes. Foxes! Like on your bag! There was a fox who was injured, and he can’t live in the wild anymore, so the sanctuary helps him.

And we learned that foxes eat rabbits and birds and stuff, but they eat berries and fruit too—like us,” she says, without taking a breath.

And wow. “That’s a whole lot of fox facts,” I say.

“Don’t forget they can see in the dark. They have a layer in their eyes…what’s it called, Mom?” Parker asks, turning back to Elle in the doorway.

“The tapetum lucidum ,” she says. “It reflects light back through the eye.”

“You should be a vet, Mom. That’d be cooler than a doctor,” Luna says, skipping inside and dropping her bag.

“No problem. I’ll just see if I can switch from treating humans to animals,” Elle deadpans as the kids rush past me toward—I presume—the kitchen.

Elle looks at me with a pleasant smile. “How’s everything with you? How was the football game?”

Great. I rode your ex-husband’s huge cock in the front seat of his car. I’m still on edge with the way I want him. And I’m totally not thinking about the fact that you’re his ex-wife at all right now.

“So fun,” I squeak out .

“And the Renegades won, I heard. But I was not forced to hear about it,” she says, sounding relieved. “Did he go on and on about all the bad calls?”

I bristle for a second. Just enough for it to feel irrational. Why does it bother me that she knows he does that?

Because I like when he does it with me? Because I want to be the only one who knows the way he rants about refs, the way his voice gets all low and grumbly, the way he throws his hands in the air when he’s really fired up?

Or because I’ll never be the only one who knows him?

Tyler once said he didn’t feel the sparks with her, but he must have felt something. She’s smart and capable and a good mom, and even if she’s not into sports…she’s got her act together.

I bet she doesn’t bang her boss.

I swallow down the unexpected shame. “There were so many bad calls, we couldn’t stop,” I say as footsteps echo in the hall, and a few seconds later, Tyler rounds the corner.

I can’t help it. My eyes roam straight to his jeans, hunting for a bulge.

It’s all gone, and maybe—maybe I take a little bit of pride that it took five minutes to deflate. Even though I should not be feeling any kind of boastfulness about banging my boss. On a schedule no less.

In fact, as I say goodbye to let them have their co-parenting talk about what the kids are up to this week, I’m not actually sure where I should be.

I’m off for the rest of the night.

But I didn’t make any plans.

The longer he talks to her in the doorway, the tighter my chest feels. I shouldn’t care. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling like an outsider. So, I do what any rational adult woman does when she’s getting way too in her head—I lean on a friend .

I message Trevyn, and invite myself on a dog walk.

Before I go, I swing past Luna in the kitchen and tell her I’ll be out if her dad asks. Then I make myself scarce, meeting Trevyn at a nearby park with his Lab mutt.

“What’s gotten into you, sweetie?” my friend asks suspiciously as I fall into step next to him and his dog.

“Just missed you.”

He arches a dubious and well-groomed brow. “I can see the lie radiating off you…just like I can tell you almost fucked your boss today.”

I swat his arm. “Shut up.”

“And you didn’t deny it.”

“I mean, I wanted to see Barbara-dor, not you,” I say as we wander into the park, lit by streetlamps.

“Understandable,” he says, but then shoots me another side-eye glance. “So…did you almost fuck him?”

I groan. “How is it obvious?”

And Trevyn cracks up, doubling over. “Sweetie, I guess I know you well.”

With a sigh of admission, I say, “You do.”

But when I return after we’ve done a few laps of the park, ducking into my apartment, there’s a knock on my door a minute later—and concern on Tyler’s face when I answer. “You okay?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you go?” It’s asked with only concern, not accusation.

Dishes clink in the kitchen. The kids must have had dinner already. “I went for a walk,” I say, answering where not why.

Tyler shoots me a look that says bullshit. “You took off right away.”

“I told Luna I was going,” I point out, but now I feel stupid in a new way .

Was I rude to him? Should I have told him too?

We might have a game plan for sex—we might be mostly sticking to it—but what’s the game plan for…well, life?

“Was it seeing Elle?” he asks gently.

My chest tightens. Am I this obvious to everyone? I hesitate.

“I had to talk to her about Thanksgiving and Christmas,” he says, and the first of those is coming up soon. “Just a lot to figure out.”

“Oh. Sure, of course.”

“Did it bother you?” he asks quietly, and I am see-through.

“Not really.”

“But a little?”

“There’s no reason for me to even be bothered,” I say, raising my chin, staying strong.

“Don’t be bothered,” he says, then cups my cheek and sighs longingly. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says in a low, hot whisper.

And I’m not bothered anymore.

Wait, that’s a lie.

I’m hot and bothered.

“I saved some dinner for you. Come upstairs,” he says, and it’s hardly a demand. It’s a thoughtful invitation.

So I say yes.

And then I enjoy the hell out of the mushroom and lentil dish he made.

We’re two floors apart. Me in my bed. Him in his.

Is he even asleep?

But that question is answered a minute later when my phone buzzes.

Tyler: Watching your videos again. Swore I wouldn’t. But I can’t stop. And I’m so fucking turned on. And it’s All. Your. Fault.

I gasp as heat rolls through me.

Sabrina: Which one?

Tyler: The last one you posted. I can’t stop watching it. Your lips. Your hair. Everything. Just everything.

His text comes out frantic. Bitten off. Like maybe he’s dictating it while fucking his fist. Then another one comes.

Tyler: Tell me you’re fucking yourself too.

Tyler: Tell me your fingers are in your panties.

Tyler: Tell me now.

I type out a desperate yes , then slide my hand into my panties and finish what we started in his car.

When I see Elena the next day, I don’t mention the sex diary, or the football game, or the night with Tyler. Instead I focus on a new skating student who’s eager to compete at the highest levels. I ask questions about how I can coach her differently than I was coached.

And really, that’s a good use of this hour. Maybe even a better one than if I’d spent the time confessing my sins. Since I’m not exactly sure how I’d tell her that I’m sleeping with my boss, but don’t worry, we have a game plan on how not to fall.

It’s one thing to tell my friends. It’s entirely another to tell someone who’s been helping me navigate complicated emotions for the last six years.

But maybe if I can keep this thing with Tyler entirely un-complicated I’ll be just fine.