Chapter 22
Brynn
There was a knock at the door. I knew it was Shea. I'd heard him go into Chloe's room only minutes before.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened and Shea's statuesque figure loomed in the doorway. Quietly, he entered and shut the door behind him. With a tired sigh, he walked near and lowered himself on to my bed. I'd kill to have him climb under the sheets and be with me—not because I wanted to finish where we left off, but only because I wanted his strong arms wrapped around me. I wanted his breath on my ear, I wanted his gentle reassurances that everything would be alright, everything between us could work out …
But he faced away from me instead.
I sat up, wrapped my arms around him, my bare breasts pressed against his back.
I spoke his name forlornly. “Shea.”
“Hm?” He sounded so disinterested.
Gently, I kissed at the nape of his neck. I clutched and kneaded at his powerful pecs. I'd do anything to be the object of his desire and affection again. But he leaned away from me and pried my hands from his chest. He reached into his pocket for something. He dangled my thong from the tip of his finger, as if it disgusted him.
“Here,” he said. “You left this downstairs.”
He didn't want me. He couldn't have made that any more clear.
“Just throw it somewhere,” I muttered.
“Where?”
“Throw it in the trash. I don't care.”
I collapsed to the bed, crawled under the sheets and curled away from him.
“I'm sorry,” I said.
“For what?” he asked.
“Cynthia or Chloe showed you, I imagine.”
“Showed me what?”
I could tell that he knew—he just wanted me to come clean. I turned around to face him.
“The picture of me. With your poster. Right?”
He didn't answer, but his silence all but confirmed that he knew.
“Well, yes, it's true. I had a crush on you when I was young.”
He didn't say a word.
“You want the whole story? Fine, here it is: I thought my older brothers were so cool, and all I wanted to do was hang out with and be accepted by them. They loved hockey so, naturally, I had to love hockey, too. And who started getting all this media attention at the same time I started watching? A handsome young rookie. You were a hero before you'd even set foot on the ice. And unlike the other Brawlers, you weren't missing teeth, your nose didn't zig-zag in ten different directions, you didn't look like somebody's weird uncle. No, you were such a pretty-boy with your long locks of hair—but on the ice, you were dangerous. And you were so fun-loving and well-spoken in your interviews. You were a gorgeous bad boy that everyone respected. You were like catnip to a young girl. Can you blame me?”
Shea stayed silent.
“I didn't want to like you. If anything, my crush on you made me even more girly and pathetic in my brothers' eyes. They teased me endlessly once they saw my stupid, kiss-covered poster of you. So there. Now you know. It was a childish crush, and I never would've imagined that it could possibly come up when I worked for you.”
Still, he didn't talk.
“Aren't you going to say something?” I asked.
He let out a deep breath. “Did you know who I was when you first applied for the nanny job?”
“No! Of course not. How could I have known that? Your ad had so few details in it, I wasn't even sure if it was real or some type of scam. I even brought pepper spray to that interview!”
“So when did you realize it was me?”
“During our interview, when that fan asked you for the autograph. And not a second sooner, I swear.”
“Really. You had a poster of me, yet you didn't recognize me as soon as I walked into that cafe?”
“No offense, but you're not the twenty-something rookie I crushed on all those years ago. You're a man now. The flowing locks are gone and you're all salt-and-pepper now. And it's not like I followed your entire career or anything. Once I stopped trying to impress my brothers, I moved on, from hockey and from that silly crush. Trust me, I had a lot of them on men I'll never, ever meet. This—us meeting—was just a freak coincidence, okay?”
“So why didn't you say something?”
“Was I really supposed to disclose during our interview? That I had an embarrassing teenage crush on you once upon a time?”
“It just seems like it should've come up at some point. All this time, I thought you didn't care who I was.”
I scoffed. “I don't care who you are.”
“Really? So everything that happened tonight had nothing to do with your crush?”
I took a deep breath. “I guess I can't honestly say no. Of course it's a little exciting, to think that things were meant to be this way—still, I know that's just a fantasy. But do you know what's far sexier than a professional hockey player about to retire? A man with a heart of gold, who is a loving, caring father to his children.”
Shea grumbled, almost dismissively.
“So, yeah,” I mumbled, “I guess I'm admitting that I still have a crush on you. This time, it's just for different reasons.”
“Brynn …”
“Do you want me to leave?” I asked. “I'll leave, if that's what you want. I wouldn't blame you. I haven't been professional about any of this at all.”
He put his hand on my arm. “No. I need you.”
“As your nanny,” I said.
Shea grimaced. “Yes.”
I nodded. “Right. Of course.”
“Cynthia dropped Chloe off here for the weekend. They had an awful fight. Would you be able to stay with her while I'm in Tampa? Or did you have personal plans?”
Personal plans. The idea was nearly absurd—I barely had a life outside the Ellis family anymore. And yet, here we were, making a drunken mess of it.
“I can stay,” I said quietly.
“Just a heads up. I had a chat with Chloe about everything we talked about at the gala. So, er, there's a good chance she'll be pissed at you.”
“I'll survive.”
“Brynn.”
“Yeah?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I'm attracted to you, okay? And I have been since the beginning, or I wouldn't have tried to kiss you on your very first night—yeah, I admitted it, so we can both stop pretending like it never happened. Things have been so screwy and tense ever since that night, and it's all my fault. I don't blame you for feeling that tension.”
Ah-ha. He did want to kiss me. I wasn't imagining it!
“So I'm sorry for grilling you,” he said. “I just … I got scared when I saw that picture. I thought I was being conned or set up or something.”
“Conned? Why would you think that?”
He winced. “I have my reasons. It's personal.”
I knew he was talking about his ex-wife, but he clearly didn't want to talk about her.
“Fair enough,” I said quietly. “I guess I can't blame you for feeling that way.”
“Yeah.” He lowered his voice. “I mean, holy shit, Brynn. We almost fucked without protection.”
I nodded shamefully. “Yeah … I know it doesn't mean anything now, but I swear I'm normally not like that …”
“Me neither, but what if I'd gotten you pregnant? What the hell would we do then?”
You have no idea how happy I'd be if I could pregnant, I thought—but I bit my tongue for obvious reasons.
“We just have to remember that things are complicated. And it's not just about us, it's about my kids, too. Just look at the trouble Chloe's going through because of the gala.” He paused. “Brynn, I think what I'm trying to say is, it'd be better if we kept things strictly professional between us.”
“Agreed,” I said, my heart withering.
“Besides, I don't need the distraction. I need to be focused on hockey. This is my last chance at the Cup. I need to be focused.”
“I know.”
“And I'm old, Brynn. My body aches. You need to find someone your age, someone young. Someone who is excited about starting a family with a woman who'd make a great mom. Don't waste your time with an old fogey like me. I don't want any more kids, and even if I did, I couldn't keep up with them.”
Right. About that …
I stayed quiet, though. I'd said enough already. I didn't need to tell Shea anymore embarrassing details from my life.
“Well, anyway. I had fun tonight, all things considered,” he said.
I scowled at him. Really?
“Er. Maybe not the right thing to say? I don't know. I'm bad at this.” Shea shrugged. A pregnant pause came and went. “Goodnight, I guess.”
I waited for him to leave, but he didn't. Instead he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at me—as if he we were waiting for something.
“Goodnight,” I said.
But still he didn't leave. A smirk creased his mouth. He looked as if he didn't believe me, as if he were calling my bluff. Did he expect me to beg him to finish what he started, or something? Did he think I wouldn't let him go until he gave me that one good fucking that he'd gotten me all worked up for before we could call it quits?
I hoped not. Because I wasn't that type of girl, and if he thought I was, he was sorely mistaken.
With eyes of lust, the athlete confidently moved forward, cupped my face and tried to kiss me.
I leaned away and gave him a shove.
“Shea,” I reprimanded him. “No. Do not.”
“Sorry,” he gulped. “Shit. Sorry. I don't know what got into me just there.”
“Just go.”
He stood and made for the door with his tail between his legs. He stopped in the doorway. “Goodnight, Brynn,” he said apologetically.
“Goodnight. Good luck with the playoffs.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I rolled onto my side and stared at the wall.
What a mess we've gotten ourselves into now.