Chapter 40
Brynn
When Shea skated off with that glistening silver trophy high over his head, Nick and Cam, sitting on both sides of me, immediately burst into tears.
“Aw, you guys!” I said, an arm around them both.
I figured they were tears of happiness—witnessing their dad accomplish a boyhood dream, one that was currently their boyhood dream, had to be a profoundly moving moment. Seeing the pure boyish joy on Shea's face made me tear up, too.
But Nick sobbed, his face mashed into my shoulder. “I don't want you to go, Brynn!”
Now that the playoffs were over, the boys figured tonight would be the last time they'd see me. After the game, I had to drive them to their mother's house.
“Me neither!” Cam wailed, his hand clenching mine.
Gah. Their lamentations were like a knife to the heart.
Chloe did her part to try to cheer her brothers up. She wrapped her arms around Cam and gave him a big bearhug. “Hey, Cam, I don't want Brynn to go either, okay? But she said she's still going to visit us from time to time.”
“Yeah but none of the other nannies ever visit us!” he cried.
“Well …” Chloe locked eyes with me while she consoled her brothers. “Maybe this time it will be different. Who knows?”
I smiled at her.
I sure hope so.
***
The Brawlers' celebration left the ice surface littered with abandoned sticks and gloves and helmets. The athletes took turns with the Cup, each player skating a lap around the rink with the trophy held high above his head.
When the last player had taken his turn, the team gathered at center ice for a team photo. The Boston crowd sent their team off with an ovation, and the athletes gleefully skated off the ice, taking the party to the locker room.
The twins were still wiping their eyes when one of the Brawlers' team reps—a young man in a suit with plenty of room to grow into—found us at our seats.
“Mrs. Ellis and kids, right?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” I chuckled. “I'm the nanny, not Mrs. Ellis.”
“Not yet, anyway,” Chloe joked, loud enough that only I could hear it.
“Oops. My mistake,” the young man said. “But if you'll come with me, the team will be accepting guests soon.”
The team rep escorted the kids and I to a VIP waiting room, where we milled around with the other Brawler family members. Ella and Paige were there, both brimming with huge smiles, and they went around the room handing out hugs to all the other Brawler 'WAGs'—wives and girlfriends.
Down the hall, the locker room door was locked, as the boys were having a team-only celebration. We could all hear the wild party underway: hoots and hollers, shouts of euphoria, howls like a pack of coyotes, wooooo!
And then, finally, the locker room doors were thrown open.
We rushed with the other VIPs to see our champions.
The kids and I raced down the hall and ran into the locker room. The players were still dressed in their game gear, and they were soaking wet—not with sweat, but alcohol. The sweet smell of champagne and yeasty scent of beer hung in the air. One of the Brawlers emerged with a bottle of champagne, which he shook furiously before popping the cork, aiming the spray at his buddies and showering them with champagne.
Elsewhere, a Brawler poured champagne into the Cup, and the players took turns drinking from the trophy's chalice.
We found Shea sitting peacefully at his stall. While his teammates went crazy, the captain leaned back, content to soak in the moment, a sweet and humbled smile on his face. He lit up when he saw the kids. Chloe and the boys jumped into his arms and he held them tight.
“You did it, Dad!” the twins cheered.
“We sure did, guys.”
“Congrats, Dad!” Chloe said.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
And then, the athlete set his eyes on me.
Shea stood and reached for my hand. I gave it to him, not knowing what to expect. He pulled me forward—surprised, I stumbled into his arms. Shea caught me, bent me over, and planted his mouth right onto mine.
In front of everyone.
The team, the wives, the kids, everyone.
And not a single person missed it. The Brawlers let their approval known with a manly roar—
“Get it, Boomer!”
“Aaaaaaw, yeah!”
—while the WAGs cheered and clapped with delight.
With Shea's lips pressed firmly into mine, I shot a worried glance at the kids. The twins looked just as stunned and confused as I did. Chloe, on the other hand, watched us with a smug grin.
I put a hand on Shea's chest and pushed him back. “Shea! Everyone's watching!”
“I know!” he said, smiling. “Brynn, will you be my girlfriend?”
My heart pounded in my throat. Shea, the twins, the Brawlers, everyone seemed to be waiting for my answer.
“Of course I will …!” I panted.
The locker room exploded with a second round of celebration. Nick and Cam turned to us with giant, twinkling eyes.
“Brynn's your girlfriend now?!” Cam gushed. “That's awesome!”
“Does that mean you'll still come by the house, Brynn?” Nick asked.
“Of course! I told you all along you'd still see me!”
Lance neared and ruffled Chloe's hair. “Awfully quiet there, Chloe. What do you think about all this?”
Fighting off a smile, Chloe let out a sigh. “I'd say it's about time.”
Lance, and all the other Brawlers, burst into laughter. “You and me both, sister.”
***
After I dropped the kids off at Cynthia's, I headed to Peasant, a restaurant where Shea said the team was gathering to celebrate. I'd never eaten at Peasant, but I'd read the restaurant's glowing reviews—in fact, I'd mentioned the place to Shea in passing once upon a time.
I thought it seemed like a strange place to take such a raucous party, since the restaurant was known for its warm ambiance and cozy atmosphere—but hey, whatever. I was excited to try it anyway.
I walked into the dimly-lit restaurant, candles romantically glowing at every table. There was a distinct lack of shouting from drunken, bawdy athletes. Had the Boston Brawlers already gotten themselves kicked out?
But no: I spotted Shea, waiting for me at a table, all by himself.
He stood as I neared, looking sharp in his suit and still wearing that unshakable smile.
“Shea …! Where's everyone else?”
Like a gentleman, he helped me into my chair. “They're not coming. They're going out to the bars.”
“But don't you want to celebrate with them?”
“I want to be with you, Brynn. Our first real date.”
***
After a dinner that was every bit as romantic as it was delicious, Shea and I walked a few blocks to a shop that he swore had excellent gelato.
“It's amazing that no one's spotted you yet,” I giggled to Shea as Brawlers fans, decked out in their black-and-yellow jerseys, pushed past us. In a city full of drunken revelers partying in the streets, the captain of the Boston Brawlers somehow managed to go unnoticed.
“The captain's retired now,” he joked. “I think I've already been forgotten.”
I stayed glued to his side, licking my gelato as we walked back to his car. “Maybe. But you'll always be my captain.”
His Bentley came into view.
“What do you want to do now?” I asked as we neared his car.
He wrapped his giant hand around my waist, his fingers clenching at my sides. I loved it when he squeezed me like that.
“I want to get you home,” he whispered into my ear. “And get you out of this sexy little dress.”
“And then what?” I flirted.
He held the passenger door open for me with an ornery smile. “I want to feel you from the inside.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, as I climbed, weak-kneed, into his car.
Shea turned the key, and the Bentley's powerful engine growled to life. Shea set his hand in my lap, and my legs parted ever-so-slightly for him.
“Anything else you want to do to me?” I asked, hoping he'd get even filthier.
Eyes on the road, Shea nodded as his massive hand crept under my dress and slowly inched up the insides of my thigh.
“Oh, yeah,” he said.
“Tell me.”
“I want to come inside you. Again and again.”
“Shea,” I sighed, an eager warmth pulsing between my thighs.
The hockey player's fingers found the crotch of my panties, and I let out a loud, breathy moan.
“How's that sound?” he asked as his finger entered my wetness.
I can't wait.
###
THE END