Page 11 of Power Play

“Lo?” he asks, his eyes wide. And for a moment, I forget all the anxiety I’ve had around running into him again. All the knots in my stomach loosen up. I just see him through my passenger window. I swallow and slowly get out of my car. When Mrs. Huber realizes that her time with him has come to an end, she says goodbye, gives me a tight smile, and turns down the walkway. He watches me get out, and I tug at my jean shorts and smooth out my tank top before I close my door. The smile on his face gets even bigger, and then I can’t help but smile back. He takes a few more steps toward me off the curb, and then closes all space between us. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me off the ground. He hugs me tight and spins me around in a circle, like he didn’t just see me last night. I let out a slightly embarrassing little squeal, tightening my arms around his neck and breathing him in.

And good God, does he smellgood.

Slowly, he puts me down.

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again,” he says, looking down at me. I forgot how fucking tall he is. It doesn’t help that I’m a hair over five-foot-two, but still.

“Yeah, me either,” I say, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind my head.

“Well, I’m glad I did,” he says with another killer smile—the same smile that was on the cover ofSports Illustrateda few months back. That I may or may not have purchased. Two copies. He smiles and reaches a hand out to rub my arm. “So what are you doing here?” I ask nervously, eyeing the door.

Fuck.NowI remember why I’ve been so anxious.

He motions back to the school.

“Promised Mrs. Huber I’d make an appearance at their assembly today,” he says.

“Ah,” I say. “Who enjoyed that more, the kids or her?”

We both laugh, and he shakes his head. He lifts his eyes back to me, that smirk still pulling at his lips.

“Damn, it’s good to see you, Lo,” he says. I smile back at him as kids start spilling out the doors, getting into their parents’ cars. He looks around, waving to some of the ones who recognize him. Then he turns to me slowly. “So, what are you doing here?” he asks. “Are you a nanny or something?”

Like clockwork, I see the neon-pink shirt I dressed her in bursting out the doors, pigtails bobbing.Welp, this is it. No way to escape it.

“Hi, Mommy!” I hear her say, and I turn to her just in time to catch her as she takes a leap of faith off the curb and into my arms. I kiss her temple and smooth her flyaways as she pulls off me.

“Hi, sweet girl,” I say with a smile. Then I turn to him slowly. His eyes are big and wide, and the smile is completely gone from his face. His chest is heaving. People beep as they drive by us, but he doesn’t even notice. He just looks at my daughter, then back to me, then back to her. Finally, our eyes lock again.

“Oh, my God,” I hear him whisper, but before he can say another word, I’m opening my back door and letting Harper climb inside.

“Buckle up, baby,” I tell her before I close it. “Well, I better get out of the way,” I say, motioning to my car. He tilts his head back slightly.

God, it’s not fair how fucking gorgeous he is.

“Lo…” he says, but I shake my head. I can’t look at him again. I can’t bear it. Everything I’ve been running from, burying like hell for the last four years, is clawing its way back to the surface the longer I stand here with him. I force a smile, get in my car, and drive off.

CHAPTERFIVE

levi

I knew coming backto Crooked Creek might drudge up some old shit—specificallythisold shit. The shit involving Lo Calway. The girl I was supposed to watch out for. I guess I just wasn’t expecting it in the first twenty-four hours after I got back.

I didn’t expect it to hit me like a ton of fucking bricks.

I didn’t expect her to be that fucking beautiful.

And I didn’t expect her to have akid.

I’m still sitting in my truck at the back of the elementary school parking lot until I snap to, realizing it might seem a little creepy that I’m still here. I pick up my phone, dial Tyson, and pull out.

“Hey, man,” he says.

“Hey,” I say. “Just leaving the elementary school.”

“How’d they like it?” he asks.

“Loved it. I gave out a few hundred signed pucks. My hand hurts,” I say. He chuckles on the other end of the line.

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