Page 3 of Breakaway Daddies

I wince, the thought making me cringe.Yeah, that’s definitely not going to work.

Maybe I could play it cool. I picture myself casually strolling in, leaning against the doorframe with a practiced nonchalance, and saying, “Hey, workaholic, ever heard of a night off?”

I shake my head, dismissing the idea. That’s something Rowan would say, not me.

I let out a long breath, tracing lazy circles near the boards as I continue to wrestle with my thoughts. Maybe something straightforward would be best?

“Hey, Jinx. You hungry?”

Everyone likes food, right? It might just be my ticket to a conversation.

Just as I’m bolstering my confidence, her office light flicks off. I look up, catching sight of her slipping into a well-worn hoodie, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and making her way to the exit.

Well. That answers that.

I sigh, watching her silhouette vanish through the glass doors.

Maybe it’s for the best. Jinx isn’t into players, and I’m not one for complicated situations.

Right?

I skate off the ice, my thoughts a jumbled mess I’d rather not untangle. The cool air of the rink clings to me as I drop onto the wooden bench in the locker room.

With each sharp tug on the laces of my skates, the tension in my mind eases, bit by bit, as reality seeps back in.

Once my feet are free, I slip on my worn sneakers, the rubber soles squeaking slightly against the tiled floor. I toss my skates into the duffel bag, its faded fabric stretched from years of use, and sling it over my shoulder.

The rink echoes with silence as I walk through the still lobby, the mechanical hum of the vending machines the only sound cutting through the stillness. I push open the heavy glass doors and let the crisp night air rush in, cool and refreshing against my flushed cheeks.

When I reach my car, I lean against it and gaze out at the nearly deserted parking lot. My breath forms misty clouds that disappear into the night.

I really should just go home.

But I stay standing, chewing over the strange, restless feeling crawling under my skin. Normally, I’m decisive when it comes to women. I spot what I want, make my move, and then I’m on to the next thing. That’s the way it’s always been.

So why the hell did I find myself watching Jinx work tonight, like some lovesick fool?

I drag a hand down my face, trying to shake off the confusion.

Get it together, man.

Maybe it’s just because she’s hot.

Because she is undeniably hot.

I close my eyes, conjuring up an image of her in my mind. Those piercing aquamarine eyes that seem to slice through any pretense; the ever-changing kaleidoscope of her hair, shifting from crimson to raven to platinum without warning; and the fluid grace of her movements, as if she glides through life without a care about who’s watching or what they might think.

I can’t help but wonder if she’d be wild in bed, if she’d be the best lay of my life, and actually have a thing or two to teach me in the process.

The thought stirs a slow, lazy heat that spreads through my chest.

Would she let loose and fill the room with her cries, or would she bite down on her lip, trying to stifle every sound?

Would she want me to be delicate and gentle, or rough and dominant?

A broad grin crosses my lips as I imagine her voice rising, the way she’d clutch at my shoulders, her nails leaving crescent moons in my skin, her body climbing up to reach me and drive me deeper and deeper…

I force myself to halt that train of thought before I embarrass myself right here in the desolate parking lot under the flickering yellow streetlight.

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