Chapter 7—Minding the Net

Brick rolled over in bed, feeling groggy. His head pounded so hard he swore his skull was being used as a drum in a heavy metal band. His eyelids scraped over his eyes like sandpaper on wood. He squinted at the clock on the nightstand.

Six fucking a.m.?

Blinking into the light some idiot had turned on, he tried to make sense of what the hell was going on. He forced one eye open. Several seconds passed before his foggy brain put two and two together. A little girl stared at him with wide eyes. She held a raggedy doll clutched to her chest. Oh, yeah. He remembered.

Macy.

“Hey,” he managed groggily, trying his best not to sound grumpy.

“I’m hungry.”

“Okay. I’m sure there’s cereal.” He started to roll over and go back to sleep. Normally he didn’t need much sleep, but these past few weeks had been tough on him.

“I want Meel to cook me something.”

Ignoring the throbbing in his head and rolling of his stomach, he swung his legs out of bed and onto the floor, holding the sheet to his waist. Self-consciously, he yanked it up to his neck. He liked to be naked. This kid was screwing with his lifestyle.

“Let me get dressed. I’ll figure out something.”

Her lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears. “I want Meel.”

“Meel?”

“Yeah, she’s my only friend.” She sniffed and glared at him as if he were the biggest ogre in the world. Perhaps he was.

“Amelia,” he said out loud, finally getting it.

“Yes,” she wailed, working up to a good cry. “You don’t like me. You’re going to send me away.” Sobbing, she streaked from the room. A second later her door slammed.

Brick rubbed his eyes.

Fuck.

He had not signed up for this.

But neither had she.

He was a selfish dickhead, and he was at a loss as to how to handle her. His experience with little kids was limited to signing autographs and working with them at hockey camps, and those kids idolized him. This one did not.

With a deep sigh, he tugged on a T-shirt and some sweats and padded down the hall to Macy’s room, stopping to turn up the heat, even though it’d kill him. He rapped on the door, didn’t wait for an answer, and turned the doorknob. Macy lay on her stomach on her bed. Her face was buried in the pillow, and one arm was around the doll.

“Hey, how about we go to the House of Pancakes?” he offered lamely, not knowing what the hell else to do. Kids didn’t come with a manual, not that he would’ve read it anyway.

“No,” came the muffled response.

“I could make breakfast.”

“No, I want Meel.”

“She’s not here.”

“I want her.”

“It’s her day off.” Brick sighed. Reasoning with a five-year-old was proving more difficult than keeping Rush out of the penalty box.

“I want her. You don’t like me.” Macy’s sobs echoed throughout the room.

Well, crap. Despite his hangover, her accusation cut deep to his core, leaving him with a sick feeling inside. Not that he didn’t deserve it—he did—but he sure as fuck didn’t know how to undo what he’d done or explain why he’d done it.

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, mentally weighing his options. He chose two words he’d been using a lot lately. “I’m sorry.”

Macy leaped off the bed and stomped over to him. Propping her little hands on her hips, she jutted out her chin and glared up at him, confronting him with such courage, he felt like a coward. “I want my mommy.”

Ah, crap.

She chewed on her lower lip, regarding him with a mixture of defiance and hope, as if he had the power to bring back the dead and had chosen not to. As if this were his fault. Then he recalled her grandmother’s note. At least one person had blamed him, but Macy had never voiced any such thoughts.

Brick knelt on one knee so he’d be at her level. “I can’t bring your mommy back.” He spoke gently, walking on an emotional minefield with no idea which step would set off a bomb.

“I want her. Now. I want her.” Her voice rose to a fever pitch as another tantrum built to detonation.

“I can get Amelia here. Give me a few minutes.”

“I want— You can?” She blinked several times and managed a smile.

“Yeah. I can do that.” He hurried from the room, desperate to fix this and willing to offer Amelia anything she wanted if she’d take the heat off him. He sucked at this fathering stuff. Really, really sucked. Did all new fathers feel so inadequate and helpless? Or was he the idiot of the bunch? Most likely the latter.

Not that he was a new father, but until they established that, he’d need to play the part to a point. His reluctance to play the daddy role didn’t change the current situation or make Macy’s hurts go away.

Brick dialed Amelia. Oddly grateful for another reason to see her and smooth things over with her, regardless of the dire—to him—circumstances. She’d been pissed last night when she’d thrown water in his face, and he couldn’t blame her.

She didn’t understand. When the guys gave him shit last night for wanting to go home after the game, he had to prove them wrong, the way he proved his stepmother wrong years ago when she told him he’d never make it to the NHL because he wasn’t talented or ambitious enough.

“What do you want?” Amelia growled, answering on the fourth ring.

“Macy needs you.” His voice cracked. He hated being vulnerable or depending on another person, but he didn’t have a choice right now.

“It’s my day off. You need to step up and be her father.” She easily guessed the reason behind his call. The woman had a sixth sense when it came to him.

He opened his mouth to argue and thought better of it. “She wants you here, and I don’t know what to do.” He couldn’t disguise the desperation in his voice.

Amelia snorted. “She’s throwing a tantrum, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, and she wants her mother.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I’m begging you. Please help me. I’ll pay you anything you want.”

“I had plans.”

He was going to have to grovel, something he’d never done especially well. “Amelia, I need you.”

Silence filled the space between. A long, excruciating silence. Brick closed his eyes and prayed.

Amelia sighed. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. And you don’t have to pay me.”

“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Yes, you will.”

He laughed, certain she’d take it out of his hide one way or another, and not in a way he’d enjoy.

“The three of us are going Barbie shopping.”

He’d rather she skin his hide than sentence him to this fate worse than death.

 

* * * *

 

Brick stood in the doorway as Amelia mounted the last set of stairs. He couldn’t prevent his huge smile at the sight of her in those tight jeans and a sweatshirt. She rocked the sexy even when she was dressed down like this.

“Thank God you’re here. I am suckier than suck at this father stuff.”

“Whatever that means.” She laughed despite her obvious irritation at his crappy fathering skills.

“It means I beyond suck.” His smile disappeared. His gaze held hers for a brief moment, and he took a step forward. She froze, and he touched her face, gently, almost reverently, watching her intently.

“You’re a gem. You know that?” His gruffly whispered praise was delivered with the utmost sincerity, surprising him as much as her.

“You’re a pain in the ass. You know that?”

He grinned. “As long as I’m your pain in the ass.” He ran his finger down her cheek and traced her jaw, resting it under her chin and tilting her face upward.

She leaned toward him, their mouths inches apart. He could tell she wanted this as much as he did. And, oh, how much he wanted this, wanted to feel those lips on his, moving against his mouth, moist and inviting, hot and sinful, promising to make his most carnal fantasies a reality.

Macy shrieked from the living room, and they both jumped. The spell broken but not forgotten, Amelia slipped past him. As soon she stepped into the living room, Macy threw herself into Amelia’s arms, almost knocking her down. Her back hit the solid wall of Brick’s chest, and he steadied her.

“You came!” Macy hugged Amelia tight and was hugged right back. Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and forced a friendly smile, feeling as off-kilter as the first time he’d played hockey against the big boys and gotten his ass kicked.

He watched the two of them together, and emptiness gripped his chest in a vise, making it hard to breathe. He shook it off. Neither of them would be around in another week. People came and went from his life except for his family and a few close friends. This would be another blip on the radar, soon to be placed in the past where it belonged.

He didn’t like to admit it, but Macy’s crying for her mother had gotten to him. Memories of the little boy he once was flooded back, standing by helplessly as his grandmother died in a hospital from complications with pneumonia. He’d been brokenhearted and lost for a long time after that. She’d been the baker of the cookies, the indulger of any whim he might have, and the smiling face when things were bad. His chest still ached when he thought of her. Yet he’d still had his family, somewhat. Macy didn’t have anyone. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be an orphan with no one left who cared.

His orphan. For now. As far as caring, his stance on that got grayer every day.

Macy gripped Amelia’s hand as if she’d never let her go. They were both staring straight at him as if expecting an answer. “Uh, I’m sorry. What did you say?” He’d been caught strolling down memory lane, checked out from the present.

“Meel said you’re going with us to shop for a Barbie house today, and some Barbies.”

“I’d rather spend the day in hell,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Amelia shot him the same death glare she probably used on badly behaving children. He suppressed a chuckle. Her attempt to intimidate him was damned amusing.

“I said I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” Brick grimaced.

“Good.” Amelia smiled at him as if he were a wayward child who’d behaved for once.

He heaved out a long-suffering sigh. This would be hell.

She looked down at Macy. “Honey, you need to get dressed and brush your hair.”

“Will you help me?” Macy begged Amelia.

“Absolutely.” She shot Brick another withering glare before she followed Macy down the hallway. He’d screwed up again. It’d never occurred to him to perform those duties himself.

Amelia insisted on driving, and Brick bitched about how noisy her car was, how his tall body didn’t fit in the passenger seat, and how he had better things to do.

Amelia cheerfully popped a CD of kid’s songs into the ancient CD player and cranked it, effectively drowning out his whining. Within seconds, Macy and Amelia were singing along while Brick gaped at her, certain she’d lost her mind. He squirmed in his seat as the torturous drive to the mall dragged into infinity.

His day went downhill from there. They walked into a toy store with ridiculously expensive, one-of-a-kind toys. Macy towed Amelia along a row of toys toward the back of the store, and Brick trailed along behind. His gaze fell on Amelia’s nice ass in her skinny jeans.

Hmmm. Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all.

He’d love to get his hands on that ass, squeeze it tight while he drove into her and made her scream.

“Brick!” Amelia shouted at him.

“Huh?”

She pointed wordlessly to the two-story pink-and-white wooden Barbie house, sitting on the floor next to a barn like the one occupying a large corner of his living room.

“This is it.” Macy jumped up and down with excitement. “This is the house my Barbies need to live in on their horse farm.”

“You don’t have any Barbies,” Brick pointed out, realizing that might have been a stupid move on his part.

“But she will.” Amelia winked at him.

Not to be outdone, Brick winked back. “I’ll be your Ken if you’ll be my Barbie.”

Amelia flipped her gaze to Macy, who was now on the floor inspecting the dollhouse and chattering happily. “Ken isn’t anatomically correct.”

Brick smirked, back on familiar ground. “I assure you that I am.”

“I assure you that I’ll never find out if you are or not,” Amelia shot back.

“You’ll be missing out.”

“Chance I’ll have to take.”

“Your loss.” Brick moved closer to her, and she moved away, kneeling beside the dollhouse.

“Can I have it, Meel?”

“You have to ask your fa—uh, Brick.”

Macy’s face fell and her lower lip quivered. Crap. Was he that much of an ogre that a little girl was afraid to ask him anything?

“You can have it,” he heard himself say, and wondered why he volunteered to buy her the pink monstrosity.

So much for carousing at his place until he straightened out this mess.

He’d have his answer any day now, and his life could go back to normal. Macy and Amelia would be gone, and he could continue to party himself into oblivion, but for what purpose? Hell if he knew. He’d been like this since his parents’ divorce when he was fourteen, after he learned the bitter truth about the father he’d idolized. Nothing had been the same.

The partying had started out as a way to say fuck you to his father and stepmother without actually saying it. But once he figured out how popular it made him, it was like a drug, and he’d wanted more. He became the guy who never said no to a good time. There were times when he truly didn’t want to party, but he couldn’t let his guys down. Without them, he’d be forced to be alone, and he didn’t think he could stand that.

He hated being alone.

His gaze settled on Macy and Amelia. Macy’s face could light up the dreariest Seattle winter day, and was damned cute as she excitedly peered inside the rooms of the dollhouse. His chest tightened, and he rubbed his breastbone. Something clawed at his rib cage, as if an imprisoned piece of him were trying to break free.

Maybe there were other ways to keep from being alone. Maybe he had it all wrong.

 

 

* * * *

 

Amelia suppressed a laugh as she watched Brick wrangle the large dollhouse into her hatchback. It was a good thing the roof came off, or it would never have fit. He grumbled and put on a show of being annoyed, but she wasn’t convinced. Macy leaped into the car seat, digging through the bag of Barbies in the seat next to her. She babbled to them as if she were trading secrets with long-lost best friends.

Brick raised a brow at Amelia. The corners of his lips twitched as he tried to stifle a laugh. Amelia smiled back. Brick was warming up to Macy, whether he liked it or not. If only the DNA test would come back so Macy wouldn’t be in this limbo. She needed to be in kindergarten socializing with children her own age, rather than stuck at day care during the day with toddlers and babies.

They unloaded everything, placing the pink mansion next to the barn. Despite Brick’s wincing, he didn’t complain. Macy plunked her butt down on the floor, absorbed in dressing the dolls in the myriad of clothes she’d picked out, which consisted of every outfit the store carried.

“How about a glass of wine?” Brick offered.

Amelia should’ve made excuses and slipped away while Macy was preoccupied. The poor thing was becoming too attached, and Amelia didn’t know how long she’d be in the child’s life. Unfortunately, she, too, was getting attached. To both the girl and Brick. Try as she might to dislike the selfish ass, he did have redeeming qualities other than his toned and ripped body. And there were those glimpses of the man behind the mask, the sad, lonely one who was slowly stealing her heart, one heartbeat at a time. Hadn’t she learned anything from watching her brother and mother? And from her own disastrous mistakes? They were rescuers, all of them, and somewhere inside she believed Brick needed rescued from himself.

“That’d be nice.” She caved, not wanting to leave any more than Brick wanted her to leave.

“Meet me on the deck. I need to cool off.” He pointed to the large glass doors. His dark eyes gleamed with the promise of more than casual conversation.

Zipping up her sweatshirt, Amelia walked outside into the October sun. There was a chill in the air, but it was still pleasant. Lake Union sparkled below, boats bobbed in their moorings, and a seaplane dipped low for a landing.

Brick came outside with a glass of wine for her and a beer for him. He gifted her with a lopsided, boyish grin guaranteed to make even the strongest woman grow weak. Be still, her heart. That man could turn on the right amount of charm when necessary, and he was fully aware of the vast array of weapons at his disposal. Mix his charm with those brief moments of vulnerability she’d witnessed, and the man had the perfect recipe to win over the hardest heart, and hers wasn’t that hard.

“Thank you.” When she took the wine from him, their fingers brushed. A jolt of electricity coursed through Amelia’s body as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. A little dazed, she leaned on the railing, clutching the stem of the wineglass, and tried to gather her wits about her. His touch packed a lethal punch.

Brick propped one hip on the railing next to her, his body only inches from hers. He stared out at the water while taking a long pull on his Guinness.

“That dollhouse is a pink behemoth. I think I strained my back getting it up here.”

Amelia laughed. “I doubt it was much of a struggle for a fit guy like you.”

He stood up straighter, his dark eyes sparkling. “A fit guy like me, huh? You noticed the muscles?”

“Seriously?” She shrugged, refusing to look at him. How could she not notice? The man currently wore a pair of shorts and a body-hugging tank.

“Glad you’re not immune.” He chuckled.

“Oh, but I am. There’s nothing wrong with window-shopping as long as I don’t buy.” She was lying her ass off, but he didn’t appear to be onto her.

“I can give you a free trial.” He winked and moved closer until his hip and thigh grazed hers and heat spread through her body.

“I’m good. Thanks anyway.” She tilted her head and looked up at him, liking him more than was wise for her emotional health.

“You think I’m sexy.”

“I think you’re a conceited ass.”

“A sexy, conceited ass,” he corrected with one of his panty-shedding grins.

She watched a small motorboat skim across the water and deflected his comments. “Your view is to die for.”

“Yeah, this place is one step closer to what I really want.”

“What do you really want?”

“Besides you?”

She rolled her eyes, but she’d walked into that one. “Yes, besides me.”

“One of those houseboats, but they’re as hard to obtain as the Stanley Cup.” He pointed to the various houseboats lining the docks on the shore below them.

“You don’t strike me as the houseboat type.”

“Why would you say that?” He feigned offense.

“This place is so sparse and impersonal. A houseboat would be quaint and charming.”

“Maybe this place isn’t me and a houseboat is.”

“Considering how little I know about you other than lurid gossip and photos popping up online and elsewhere, I’m willing to concede that point.”

“Yeah, well, that’s all I want anyone to know.”

They lapsed into a companionable silence, both enjoying the scenery and each other. Inside, Macy chattered happily to her dolls.

“She’s really good at self-entertainment,” Amelia noted.

“Thank God. It’s not like I would know how to entertain a five-year-old girl. The last thing you’ll ever catch me doing is playing Barbie dolls.”

“Never say never,” Amelia warned with a wicked smile. She sobered a moment as she studied the immense pile of doll clothes scattered across his floor. “You don’t have to indulge her every whim,” she whispered, causing him to lean close, not that Macy could hear them.

“I don’t?” He flashed a broad smile. “And how would I do that? Saying no to her would be like facing the Great One in his prime minus pads, mask, and stick.”

“You can.” She laughed. Even with her limited hockey knowledge, she knew enough to know the Great One was Wayne Gretzky.

“It’s just money.” He shrugged, as if the substantial amount he’d spent on the house, dolls, and accessories was of little consequence. Most likely for him it wasn’t. For her, it’d be a month’s salary.

“Still, you probably should slow down on buying her stuff.”

“Let me remind you who bought her a barn and horses.”

“Guilty.” She laughed, and he laughed back.

“And who suggested the Barbie outing, because it sure as hell wasn’t this guy.”

“Guilty again.”

“I’m in over my head with both of you,” he admitted, cocking his head and flashing a self-deprecating smile. The man had a killer smile, no matter how she looked at it. He was cute when he wasn’t being cocky. Too cute for his own good. His bewildered little boy act worked on her, and she hated herself for it.

“Both of us?”

He glanced over his shoulder at Macy. His smile faded, lining his face with worry and self-doubt. There he went again with that vulnerable act, only she didn’t believe it was an act. He put his arm loosely around her waist, and she laid her head against his arm. The world faded until it was just the two of them, no baggage, no worries, no pasts. She closed her eyes, breathed in the scents of Seattle after a brief shower, and listened to the lonely cries of the seagulls on the docks below them.