Page 40 of Power Play

“Fun Uncle Levi works,” she says with a smile, and I feel her grip on me tighten. “Thank you, Levi.”

I smile at her as the wind whips through the window, blowing her hair all over the place. We pull into the Calways' driveway, and I park the car at the foot of the porch. I grab her bag out of the back and open her door, helping her out.

“Think you could do me a favor, Lo?” I ask her. She turns to me, taking a step onto the porch stairs.

“Hmm?” she says.

“Think you could start trying to think of things as ‘our’ problems, rather than just yours?” I ask her. She looks at me, eyebrows knit together. I reach a hand out, rubbing her arm. “If something is bothering you, making your chest tight and your hands clammy like it did in the car today from just bringing Harper up to me, talk to me. Let me help you. I know you’ve done a lot on your own over the last few years. I know you do every day. Will you try to let me carry a little bit of that?”

Her expression softens a little bit, her eyes widening and her lips parting.

“Don’t say anything,” I say, seeing the wheels in her head spin. I pull her down by her hand, planting a kiss on her forehead, then a softer one on her lips. I nudge her head gently with mine, bending down so we’re eye to eye. “Just promise me you’ll think about it. Okay?”

She bites her bottom lip and nods slowly.

“Thank you,” she says as I step down off the porch. “For everything. Even if it was just last night, it would have been…it would have been amazing.”

“You’re not getting away from me that easily,” I say, giving her a smile. She can’t help but return the favor, and it makes me fucking weak. I’m fucking mush when it comes to this girl. Just as I’m reaching my car door, I hear my name.

“Levi!” Mr. Calway calls, and I take a step back from behind my car to wave to him. “How was it?”

I smile.

“I think they had a blast,” I say, and Lo nods. “You’ll be happy to know your children were well-behaved.”

Well, with the exception of your daughter last night. When I had her naked and spread out on my bed.

“Well, with the exception of your son, but you know, what did we expect?” I say. Mr. C. laughs and shakes his head.

“I swear, that boy will never grow up,” he says. “We’re doing pizza night tomorrow. You in?”

My eyes drop from him to her. Her eyes are big and wide, and she’s biting her lip again. I feel my dick twitch behind my pants. She has no idea what that little lip does to me.

“Have I ever missed a Calway pizza night when I was in town?” I ask. “I’ll be here.” Mr. C. nods and smiles and waves, putting an arm around Lo as I pull out. And as I look at them in my rearview mirror, I wonder how we will broach that topic with him.

Hi, Mr. C., thanks for the pizza.

Also, I’m boning your daughter. What’s that? No, not the one that’s two years younger than me. The one I’ve known since she was a kid.

Also, I’m kind of in love with her.

Jesus. I almost slam on the brakes.

I’m in love with her.

I’m in such a good fucking mood. I'm on my way into the studio today for my first air test, a couple of read-throughs, and to meet the hair, makeup, and wardrobe people. I’ve been in such a slump over the end of my hockey career since my last game, but being back here in Crooked Creek—and back with her—has lit this little spark in me. Like I can see the end of the tunnel. Like there’s life after the ice.

And it’s all because of her.

I park my car and smile at the doorman as I make my way through, scanning my badge and saying hi to everyone I walk past. I get on the elevator and back to the floor where I . Tim is sitting in a big corner office as I walk by, and I duck my head in to say hi. But just as I do, I freeze as the chair in front of his desk spins around.

And there’s none other than Thad Fucking Dietrich, smiling and cheery as ever.

And I want to bash his fucking face in.

Tim jumps to his feet, clapping his hands together, sending his chair rolling backward into the wall behind him.

“Look at this,” he says, coming around the desk to greet me. Thad stands and smiles, looking like Mr. Fucking America. Tim shakes my hand, then ducks his head out of his office door. “Ron? Ron! Get in here!” he says.

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