Chapter 3—Shot Blocked

Amelia didn’t have any problem finding Brick’s condo on Lake Union. It sat up on the hill overlooking the water. She walked up a couple flights of steps and rang the doorbell for unit 3-1. Inside she heard shrieking and the pounding of footsteps. The door was yanked open by an adorable little girl with Brick’s big brown eyes. Dark hair cascaded down her back in waves of rich chocolate. She wore a pink top and pink leggings and carried a beat-up rag doll.

She looked Amelia up and down, assessing her with a practiced gaze too old for one so young.

“Hi, I’m Amelia. You must be Macy.” Amelia smiled reassuringly at the child.

Macy nodded, still eyeing her with suspicion.

“Can I come in?”

Reluctantly, the little girl stood back to let Macy enter.

Things certainly hadn’t gone as planned so far, but even the toughest kids eventually warmed up to Amelia. She had a way with kids.

“Is your da—uh, Mr. Bricker around?”

Macy didn’t glance back. She just walked away. Amelia followed her into a large great room with high ceilings and a wall of windows with a spectacular view of Lake Union. The place was obviously a bachelor pad, and currently it was a mess. Dishes were stacked on the granite countertops, a couple pots and pans sat on the stove, and a cereal box lay on its side with the contents scattered on the counter and floor.

The living room with its dark wood floors and modern furniture didn’t fare much better, with toys, clothes, books, and other stuff littering the floors, coffee table, and L-shaped couch. If Brick employed a cleaning service, it hadn’t been around for a while.

Brick walked down the hall, drying his short-cropped hair with a towel. He wore a pair of low-slung shorts and nothing else. Beads of water clung to his muscled chest, drawing her eyes to those incredible pecs. Water trickled down the middle of his chest, and her eyes automatically followed its path past a well-defined six-pack. Droplets pooled in his belly button before continuing downward to slip under the waistband of his shorts.

She swallowed and cleared her suddenly dry throat.

Brick’s chuckle startled her out of her gawking. Her face heated, and she forced her gaze to a safe point beyond his broad shoulders.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his eyes lighting up with mirth.

“I, uh…”

“The sight of my body renders most women speechless. You should see what they do when I drop my shorts.” He spoke as if his statement was nothing but mere fact, with little conceit and a lot of amusement.

Amelia didn’t have an answer.

Macy watched the two of them with interest before wandering off to play with her well-worn doll. Brick slung his towel around his neck and motioned for her to follow him to the kitchen. He stacked some mail on top of another precariously high pile to clear a place on the counter.

“Have a seat.” He gestured toward one of the barstools.

“Thank you.” Amelia sat down stiffly and placed a folder on the counter in front of her.

“Want a drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

He studied her for a moment, then shrugged one muscled shoulder. “Suit yourself.” He filled a glass with water and ice from the dispenser on the refrigerator door, grabbed himself a beer, and slid onto the barstool next to her. He pushed the water toward her and popped the top of his beer, taking a long pull.

Amelia opened the folder and handed him a few items. “This is my résumé and references.”

He glanced at the papers, barely paying them any notice; instead he leaned closer and grinned. “I’m sure you’re perfectly qualified. After all, you work at a day care.”

She wasn’t convinced his logic was sound, but she wasn’t about to argue, not with him so close she could see gold flecks in his brown eyes. “You sure you—”

“Nah.” He waved her off with another charming grin. “Al checked you out. We’re good.”

“Al?”

“My ruthless agent. He ran all kinds of background checks. You’ve got nothing on your record but a speeding ticket from years ago.”

“Well, then, shall we get started going over things?” She squeaked out the last few words. The way the man stared at her made all her lady parts tingle, fogged her brain, and clogged her throat.

“I always thought nannies were old, wrinkled, and cranky.” His hot gaze slid across her body like a caress, and she shivered. He cocked a brow, and their eyes met. Her heart thumped against her rib cage, begging to be turned loose to wreak havoc and take no prisoners.

“I can be cranky.” Amelia scooted her stool away from him, which brought a knowing smirk to his face.

“I’m good with cranky, especially from someone as beautiful as you. Has anyone ever told you that you look like Megan F—”

“All the frigging time,” she interrupted.

“I would think you’d be happy about that.”

“Well, I’m not.” She crossed her arms over her chest, grateful he’d hit a sore spot, distracting her gutter mind from all the things it wanted to do to him.

“Too bad, because I sure as hell am.” He shot her a dazzling smile, which had certainly dropped many a panty, but not hers, at least not now.

Amelia bristled and prepared to put this guy in his place. “Look, Mr. Bricker. I have no interest in being one of your many conquests. I’m here to do a job, and that’s it.” She shot him the glare her day care kids called her death glare.

Brick didn’t bat an eye, though the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I like a woman who can put me in my place. And it’s Brick, not Mr. Bricker.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “If you’ll show me where I’ll be staying and anything I need to know about Macy’s routine, I’ll be out of your way.”

He frowned, obviously disappointed. “Okay.”

“Shouldn’t she be enrolled in kindergarten?”

He blinked as if she’d brought up something he’d never considered. “I, uh, this is only a temporary arrangement. I don’t want her to get comfortable at a school, then pull her out.”

Amelia nodded, not understanding this situation at all, and pretty sure the less she knew, the better. “I can work with her on her alphabet, numbers, and reading.”

“That’d be wonderful.” His relief was evident. There came that panty-melting grin again. Despite her attempts at resistance, she could feel hers about to go up in flames.

“What about her routine? Do you have it written down?”

Again, the shocked look tinged with guilt. “I trust you. Do what you think is best.”

“Okay.”

Standing, he motioned for her to follow him down a hallway. “This is it.” He opened the door to a large bedroom. It, too, was a mess. A small pink suitcase lay open on the floor, and clothes were scattered about. The bed wasn’t made. More clothes and towels littered the adjoining bathroom’s floor.

Amelia nodded, suddenly glad she only had to deal with a few weeks of this. Something wasn’t adding up here. “Where do I sleep?”

“I have another guest bedroom here, but it only has a futon.” He opened the door to the one neat and tidy room in the house. Most likely because no one used it. A futon couch sat against one wall and a dark wood dresser on the other. This room, too, had an adjoining bathroom.

“This’ll do fine.”

“You could always sleep in my bedroom, keep it warm until I get back.” He raised his brows and smirked, back in form.

“I could, but you won’t be in it when I do.”

“Honey, you’re destroying my ego.” He held his hands to his heart.

“I doubt that’s possible.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I’m a sensitive kind of guy.”

She laughed this time. “Maybe you’re not.”

“Maybe you’d like to find out how sensitive and sensual I can be.” He leaned forward and whispered the last few words in her ear. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Her traitorous body wanted to take him up on his offer right here and now.

“You okay?” He ran a finger down the side of her jaw to her lips. Her legs wobbled, and her knees threatened to buckle. He stepped closer, pinning her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head. Her body was all in, falling once more for a charming bad boy like Darrell.

The reminder of Darrell slapped her to her senses. She ducked under Brick’s arm and hurried back to the living room. He was hot on her heels. She whipped around and almost ran into his hard body.

“I’d love to stand around and trade barbs with you all night, but I’m sure we both have better things to do.”

“I never have something better to do when a gorgeous female graces my presence. We could trade something better than barbs.”

“I’ve heard all about you, Mr. Bricker, and I have no interest in being another filly in your extensive stable.” Oh, yeah, she’d done her research today at the day care while the kids slept. He was a man-slut if there ever was one. She’d found pictures of him partying in just about every major city in the US and Canada.

Her rejection didn’t discourage him. The heat flared in his eyes, as if she’d issued a challenge, and he’d accepted.

She turned away from his royal hotness. “Good night, Macy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Macy waved a hand over her head but never turned her attention from the TV.

Amelia fled to the door and into the relative safety of the rainy Seattle night.

 

* * * *

 

Brick was so anxious to get out of town, he was the first guy on the plane instead of the last. He settled into his seat on the team’s jet and breathed a sigh of relief. Cranking up the air to max, he closed his eyes and shut out the world. Only the world refused to be shut out.

This road trip hadn’t come fast enough for him. He had no idea what to do with a heartbroken adult, let alone a child. Ever since his parents’ contentious divorce, he’d learned to bury his feelings deep and adopt a who-gives-a-fuck-let’s-party attitude. He didn’t deal with emotions. He dealt with fun. Having a child abandoned on his doorstep wasn’t fun. Being responsible for someone other than himself—no matter how temporary—was scary as shit and threw him off-balance. He hated being off-balance.

Before heading to the airport, he’d dropped Macy off at day care, slightly disappointed Amelia wasn’t there. Ruby was, but the woman wore a ring and didn’t interest him nearly as much as Amelia. Besides, she was a five, where Amelia was a ten-plus.

Once he’d told Macy she’d be going to day care and staying with a nanny while he was out of town, she did a one-eighty. All chattering ceased, and she’d eyed him suspiciously as she sipped her milk and barely touched her cereal. He should’ve welcomed the silence.

If he had to guess, she probably thought he was never coming back. How many times had an adult disappeared on her? Now he was abandoning her. It gave him a sick feeling inside, as if he were a coward running away from his problems. He had to go. This was his job. Yet knowing that didn’t make him feel any better.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He had a reprieve. A road trip. A chance to pretend none of this had happened. For ten nights, he could party with the guys as if he were still the same man he’d been three nights ago.

Only he wasn’t.

Yet.

Things would go back to normal once the DNA test came back. She couldn’t be his. He’d been too careful. He didn’t have unprotected sex. He’d make sure she was well taken care of to ease his conscience, but that was all he could do.

He refused to consider what might happen if he was her father. Irresponsible party boys had no business raising children.

Shit.

Fuck.

Double fuck.

Brick pushed all thoughts of his alleged daughter out of his mind and concentrated on the road trip. Hockey healed all wounds, even hangovers and reluctant fathers.

“Vhat iz your problem?” His buddy Alexander “Rush” Markov slid into the seat next to him on the plane.

“I don’t have a problem.” Brick forced lightness into his voice.

Rush wasn’t buying it. “I say bullsheet.”

“Bullshit,” Brick corrected automatically. The young Russian’s English was much better than it’d been his rookie year, but he still struggled at times.

“I say my way. You say yours. Ladies love my accent and wrong words.”

Brick rolled his eyes. “Ladies love your schlong.”

Rush’s brows knit together. “Sch-what, dude?”

“Dick. Cock.”

Rush grinned. “Ah, yes, they love it. Vhat iz your problem?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Try me.” Rush cocked his head and studied him with more seriousness than he’d shown before, making Brick wonder if the troubles weighing him down were so transparent.

He searched for an answer that would prevent Rush from asking more questions and came up with the obvious one. “I need to get laid.”

“Then get laid. Plenty of girls on road trip.”

Yeah, there would be. There always were. But he didn’t want to get laid by just anyone, but by a nanny who looked like his movie-star fantasy. The hot nanny who’d appeared in his dreams last night, dreams so real he’d woken up with a raging hard-on and reached for her only to grasp air.

He smiled to himself. He always got what he wanted.

Amelia Stacey might not realize it yet, but she’d met her match.

 

* * * *

 

Kids loved Amelia. She never had to work to gain their trust and affection. They gravitated to her.

Until now.

Macy was proving to be an exception to the rule. She sat by herself in a corner most of the day and refused to join any of the activities. The only talking she did was to her doll, Simone.

Amelia left her alone. She needed time to acclimate. Once Macy had a few days, she’d pressure her to get involved in activities and make friends. There was one other girl in the day care who was Macy’s age, but she was in morning kindergarten until noon.

As soon as they arrived back at Brick’s condo for the evening, Macy grabbed her doll and ran down the hallway to her room. A second later, Amelia heard a door slam. She didn’t go after her.

Things didn’t add up. Brick wasn’t at all comfortable with her. He was a father who didn’t appear to want her and had been more than happy to dump her on a relative stranger. And where was her mother in all this?

She glanced once again around the house, which was not childproofed. The place looked like a messy bachelor pad, not a family home. She pondered the inconsistencies as she gave Macy some time to sort things out before she invaded her space.

Brick texted her asking if everything was okay. The text lacked any actual caring and seemed obligatory. She wanted to strangle him for being such a douche. The man showed more interest in getting in Amelia’s pants, and his disinterest in his daughter triggered her own déjà vu.

Her father didn’t like kids—even his own. She hadn’t seen the man in years. In some ways, his disappearance relieved the stress, as her mother hated the man and couldn’t stop railing on him every chance she got. Amelia was the only person in her family who didn’t embrace a daily dose of drama with open arms. To make matters worse, her brother, Dean, had married Ruby, a drama queen who cranked Amelia’s mother up even further.

Amelia steered clear of the family drama, which wasn’t easy. The easiest option would’ve been to extricate herself from the entire gene pool of relatives. She didn’t want to do that. Bad relatives were better than no relatives. She didn’t wish that on anyone. Despite her family’s faults, they did love one another in their own dysfunctional way. She’d never been abused. She’d never gone without the essentials, even if they couldn’t afford designer clothes or a fancy house. She’d still grown up in a house in a decent neighborhood and felt safe and loved for the most part.

With a resigned sigh, Amelia stood, grabbed one of the children’s books she’d brought, and walked down the hall. She rapped on the door.

“Go away.”

“Not happening. Open this door.”

“It’s late. I want to sleep.”

No kid wanted to go to bed unless forced.

“Open the door, please.” She tried the doorknob. Either Macy hadn’t locked it or the door didn’t have a lock. She swung it open and glanced around.

The little girl’s room needed to be decorated for a little girl, giving the impression Macy hadn’t lived there long. The entire room was dark wood floors, white walls, black dresser, white comforter, and black headboard. Most likely some designer’s idea of a modern minimalist room. Perfect for guests, impersonal for a child. If this had been a more permanent gig, she’d ask Brick for the money to redecorate, but she didn’t see the point right now, nor did she want to get the child excited if this situation was only temporary.

A lump lay underneath the impersonal white comforter and sheets. Amelia’s heart ached for what she’d lost and what she could never have. She fought the urge to get involved in what appeared to be a sticky situation. She couldn’t save them all. Hell, she hadn’t been able to save her own child.

Be professional. Don’t get too close. Don’t fall prey to a handsome man and his troubled daughter. Keep your distance.

She’d never been good at keeping her distance, but every fiber of her being warned her this was the time to do that.

Amelia crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I thought I’d read a bedtime story to you.”

The lump didn’t move.

“What do you think of Charlotte’s Web?”

Silence.

Charlotte’s Web might a little advanced for a five-year-old, but Amelia believed in expanding horizons, and it was one of her favorite children’s books.

“My mom read it to me when I was about your age.”

Macy didn’t react, so Amelia started reading. About two pages in, she noticed a pair of eyes peeking out from the top of the covers. Three pages in, a nose appeared. Then a chin. Five pages, and the little girl listened with rapt attention, her big eyes glued to the book.

Toward the end of the first chapter, Macy’s lids drooped until they closed. She fell asleep hugging the doll to her.

Amelia smiled and bent down to tuck the covers tight around her. She was a beautiful child with all that gorgeous dark hair. Those huge brown eyes made her look like a doll rather than a little girl, but she was a flesh-and-blood child who was obviously confused and hurting.

Amelia promised herself she’d be a ray of sunshine in this child’s life as long as she was in it.

So much for not getting involved.