Page 35 of Dirty Puck

“There’snothingwrong with me. I refuse to let him fall behind because he had the misfortune of being born to a mother in my tax bracket.”

“He’s lucky to have you. Don’t say that shit again.”

“Please, Reece, just go. I’ll see you after work.”

“You’re kicking me out but inviting me over to fuck.”

“I figured you’d show up, anyway.”

She walked over to pluck the bikini from the bin and all I could do was watch, raking my hands through my hair until the answer hit and I reached out to pull her into my arms as she passed me, pressing my lips to her shocked ones. “I’ll set up a trust,” I said.

“Um…what?” she asked, her eyes still glazed with lust from that kiss.

“A trust. I’ll put five years’ worth of money into an account for him. That’s three hundred grand. All you have to do is quit dancing while you’re with me.”

“You’re embarrassed of me,” she said low. “I get it.”

“No, baby, you mistake me. I don’t care that you danceand neither do any of my friends. But the truth is, I need you for things other than fucking, if you can believe it.”

She rolled her eyes and snickered. “I don’t believe the great Baker Reece has needs other than playing hockey and fucking.”

“Quit,” I ordered.

“That’s so much money.”

“Less for me than it is for you.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my boy, but I can’t be your charity case—notyou.”

She couldn’t be serious. “But you’ll sell your fucking eggs?”

“Not you,” she said sharper, wiping at her eyes.

“Bree, baby, you’re not my charity case.”

“Right. I’m your business deal. Sorry. I forgot myself for a moment.”

I raked my hands through my hair. This wasn’t going anything like I thought it would. “Benny needs his therapies, but he needs his mom around, not working every waking hour. I couldn’t live with myself if he had to give up either of those. See? It’s not charity or a business deal. It’s pure selfishness.”

She snickered. That was something, at least.

When her shoulders slumped, I figured I had her.

“You promise you’ll put the money in a trust?” Bingo.

“Already said I would. I’ll call my lawyer tonight.”

Sighing, she gave in. “Then I’ll quit,” she said, I smiled, but she shook her head. “I’ll quit, but I have to dance tonight. I may need this job again and can’t afford to burn bridges.”

Well, I hated it, but I didn’t protest.

“Fair warning—taking that ass tonight,” I said as my parting shot.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

BREE

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