My dad is staring at me as if I’m from a different planet. One minute I’m serving a dark-haired girl and two kids, the next she’s screaming and leaving them with me.

I tried to chase after her, but she was running too fast—at least, until she stopped all of a sudden, abruptly enough for me to almost crash into her. Then, she reached out and grasped my hands within hers, as if we were friends or something, and said, “Their dad’s Tristan Wright, one of the NHL players. He’ll come and get them. I just can’t do this anymore. No, not anymore!”

I knew damn well who Tristan Wright was, and I couldn’t believe that his kids were with me. I chased after her a little bit, but I couldn’t keep up through the crowds of people.

I decided I’d look after the children, not only because she’d just dumped them with me, but because I had the crazy notion of getting an autograph. Besides, this was a big game against Boston, with a massive turnout of fans, and I couldn’t just leave Dad alone…or these kids. I had to try and occupy them until someone came to pick them up.

I shake my head at the idea of the Arizona Cats captain’s kids being in my care. It feels like an honor to hang out with them, even for a little bit.

I wonder why she left them? Since the woman disappeared twenty minutes ago, I haven’t had an issue with them at all.

“Faith, seriously, why did that mother leave her kids?” Dad asks as he starts to get into a panic. The stand has started to get busy.

He hadn’t given up on my dream, and that was the only reason we were here. I’d wanted to play hockey when I was a little girl, and after I lost one too many games, I lost my confidence. I haven’t skated in years, and my dad has this crazy notion that running the concession stand will maybe make me feel as though I’m a part of the hockey world once more. My dreams of getting a hockey scholarship to go to college were snuffed out, purely by my own lack of esteem. I wanted to be like my mom, who’d been a right-winger for the Boston Pride, a team I’ve been following since I put on my first skates.

“Faith?”

I shake my head, making the daydream dissipate, and then I look down. The kids are on stools, trying to help serve popcorn with Dad.

I whisper to him, “Their mother is dead. The little girl told me that the moment I came back from trying to chase down their nanny. She said that the nanny was bad and wasn’t interested in looking after them. I don’t know the full story. Don’t worry, their dad is Tristan Wright.”

He nearly chokes. “You’re kidding.”

I shake my head. “Apparently not.” After that, he seems to like the idea of the kids being at our stand. He didn’t question their presence again, at least.

“This is fun!” the blue-eyed girl screams as she opens up the folded popcorn packet and my dad starts to scoop popcorn into it. He fills it to the brim. We’re out of the ready-made ones in a heartbeat, as the crowd becomes thick and demanding, complaining about the long line.

We’re having a trial promotion to try and sell as many packets as possible. The other concession stands weren’t happy about it, but I checked the term and conditions of our stand. Yes, we had to be uniform in prices, but there’s nothing in the rulebook about running promotions. Our deal entails only that purchases of large popcorn packets come with a free drink. I’ve been to a few games, so I know the best places to put up promotion notices. And it’s helping.

Dad’s hardware store isn’t making that much money lately, and though part of the reason he took up working this concession stand was to get me back in touch with hockey, it’s still a job to keep him going until the store gets back on its feet.

Dad shrugs. “At least they're useful.”

He’s hinting to me; I can hear it in his voice. There’s a comment in there somewhere about offering up my babysitting services.

I ignore him, realize one thing—I don’t even know their names. So, I ask.

The girl proudly stands as she hands me a small packet of popcorn. “I’m Darcy, and he’s Ferguson.”

“Right. Seeing as you guys are so good, this will be your job. Okay?”

I give them some gloves and decide to keep them busy. I can’t believe that their nanny just dumped them like that, especially when they’re so well-behaved.

I’m busy serving customers and working with Dad, so I don’t notice Tristan approach us. But, some fans do, and they try to get his attention.

“Dad!” Darcy yells out as the crowd starts to encircle him.

“Daddy!” Ferguson jumps off the stool. They fight their way through the crowd, appearing in his arms when Tristan stands back up straight.

“You guys good?”

They both nod in unison as they stare at their dad, and it’s clear they have a good relationship with him. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so excited to see him. Obviously, Tristan’s relieved to know they’re safe, and he holds his hand to his chest.

“Isobel just left us here!”

He raises an eyebrow as a couple of fans try to get his attention. No doubt for an autograph.

He looks so different in person. He’s even more attractive, and seeing the way that he’s looking at those kids, so relieved that they’re safe, I find myself captivated by him. Somehow, knowing that he’s a single daddy—and a good one, if my first impression is accurate—makes him even more appealing. He lifts up Ferguson as if he weighs nothing, then Darcy. His jeans seem to fit him perfectly, and I find myself imagining him picking me up the same way.

And that’s where my mind goes, just watching as he talks to those kids. I’m not following the conversation closely, as I try and serve customers at the same time. The crowd is getting smaller though, as he becomes the main attraction. No longer does anyone want popcorn. They just want a piece of Tristan Wright.

“Hey. Faith, is it?”

I hadn’t seen him move past the crowd of people and come up to the canteen. I nod my head, finding it impossible to speak. As soon as I’d come back from trying to catch up with the nanny, I introduced myself and told the kids that their dad would be here soon to pick them up. They’ve obviously told him my name. I need to get over being star-struck and say something, but it’s hard when the captain of the Arizona Cats is trying to hold a conversation with you. The captain of the Arizona Cats.

“The kids say that you’ve been looking after them. Thank you for that, by the way.” He offers me a smile. “The thing is, I’ve got a game…”

Again, I nod my head, wishing something would come out of my mouth rather than just air. It’s as if his intoxicating scent puts me in a trance as he gets closer. His eyes, his smile…Wow. I feel as if I’m a teenager and he’s a hot teacher that’s just started at my school. He’s trying to talk—to communicate serious things—and all that’s going through my mind are delicious, nasty thoughts. And none that entail being in a classroom, or standing here talking, for that matter.

“Faith?” Darcy’s voice breaks through my brain fog, but I can’t seem to move beyond my initial schoolgirl crush. That’s when Dad comes to the rescue.

“I’m Monty, Faith’s dad.” He holds out a steady hand. “The kids can stay here with us, Mr. Wright. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Tristan shakes Dad’s hand, and he turns to me. “Are you sure?”

Again, my mouth is open but nothing’s coming out.

“Sure!” My dad saves me again.

The kids scream, “Great! Dad, who would’ve thought that serving popcorn could be so fun?”

He shakes his head at Darcy’s revelation, kisses her on the forehead, then Ferguson. “Thank you,” he says, locking me in a momentary stare. Then, he swiftly moves through the crowd.

I notice that he’s taller in real life. His piercing blue eyes catapult me into a daze as he glances back at me quickly, and with his dark hair, the contrast is rare for a man, and gorgeous.

I wave feebly.

The kids are happy about serving popcorn for the duration of the game, and the crowd no longer have a star to chase after. The only thing they’re screaming for now is more popcorn and soda. I get back to work.

Once again, I’m able to speak. I’m able to think, and breathe, and comprehend. My racing heart rate settles back to a normal speed. But, I know the moment I see Tristan Wright again, it’ll all pick up exactly where it left off only a few moments ago—incomprehension, speechlessness, and a pounding heart.