Marek

  I'm not even ashamed to say I strung him along for as long as I could until I just couldn't anymore. It came time when either I had to accept his marriage proposal and commit myself to him, or my parents would suffer. There was no more stringing him along. He held too much leverage and I had no fight left in me. My wedding night with Owen would have been our first time together, and the thought of it makes me sick. The ironic thing about Marek bursting in on me to stop the wedding is that he saved me from a really shitty situation but threw me right into another.

  My bedroom door starts to slowly open, the slight squeak of the hinges causing my head to raise up off the pillow. Lilly pokes her head in and gives me a toothy grin.

  Pulling my hands out from where they were supporting my head, I hold my arms out to her. "Morning, Lilly Bug."

  "Mommy!" she exclaims, and runs into my room, pulling herself up onto the bed and scrambling to get under the covers with me.

  "Sleep good?" I ask her before pressing my lips to the top of her head.

  She nods and burrows into me.

  Lilly is so freaking affectionate, and she never holds back showing it to me. Her spontaneous hugs and unexpected declarations of "I love you so much, Mommy" are the true joys in my life. No matter how many times she tells me that, my heart melts a million times over, and I feel like there's nothing I can't conquer with my daughter by my side. She's the absolute best thing to ever have happened to me.

  "You hungry?" I ask her.

  "Pancakes."

  "Pancakes it is," I promise her as I sit up in the bed, pulling her up with me. I throw the covers back and roll with her out of bed, giving her a little tickle as I do. Her giggles are infectious and I can't help but laugh.

  Once she's standing on the floor, I give her butt a little pat. "You know the morning drill. Get your Pull-Ups off, throw them away, and put on a pair of big-girl panties."

  "Okay, Mommy," she says in that ever-agreeable voice of hers.

  Lilly's a fiercely independent girl, and one of the first things she mastered when she turned three was how to dress herself.

  For the most part.

  She can take her clothes off with some struggle, and put on her underwear, shirt, and pants with a fifty-fifty chance of the tag going in the back. She gets overly frustrated with her socks and shoes, but that kid will try and try until she gets it. I've been enjoying her taking over some of these responsibilities. She's not fully potty trained, still needing to wear pull-up diapers at night. I figure we'll be tackling that soon enough, but for now she takes a lot of pride in being able to help get herself dressed in the morning, and that's cool by me. While my heart wants her to stay my baby forever, my soul wants her to conquer the world all on her own.

  Lilly runs off to her bedroom and I take a quick moment to slip on some presentable clothing. After Marek's open ogling of me last night, I know that I have to dress a little more presentably when I'm downstairs.

  Just as I'm wrapping my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head, my phone rings. My muscles tense as I recognize Owen's ringtone. His texts to me have been getting more insistent that we talk, and I've been avoiding doing so because it's the easiest thing to do.

  But I don't like that he's been going to my parents' house and I'm sure bullying them, so I decide to take the bull by the horns. Knowing that I'll end up stringing him along once again, I square my shoulders and pick up my phone.

  "Owen," I say softly into the phone, making it sound almost as if I'm relieved he called me.

  "It's about time you answered my calls," he responds tersely.

  "I'm sorry," I flat-out lie to him. "It's been a little difficult to get some alone time."

  "Because you're spending time with Marek?" he asks curiously, and there's something completely wrong about the fact there's not a jealous tinge to his tone. He's not threatened by Marek because he knows Marek dumped me. He's completely ignorant about what Marek and I had together, mainly because the man could never understand such a deep love. It's beyond his capacity. He also believes his leverage over me and my parents is so great that I'd never consider anything else other than returning to him.

  Conceited prick.

  "I'm facilitating time with Marek and Lilly," I reply, correcting his assumption.

  "How's that going?" he asks grudgingly, and it's the only credit I'll ever give this man. While he never became overly close to Lilly while we were dating, he was always kind to her. I guess his bullish, manipulative ways didn't extend to kids. He never had to use Lilly to get to me because he already had me by the metaphorical short hairs, so all Owen ever had to do was be nice to Lilly. Over time, Owen actually enjoyed being with Lilly, and he behaved decently around her. Or rather, he wore his sheep's clothing very well.

  "It's going as well as can be expected," I tell him, my first truth of the conversation. "Lilly's starting to understand who he is, and Marek's trying to learn how to be a father."

  Owen grunts in acknowledgment, and then he's done with Lilly. He throws the sheep's skin off a little too easily. "When are you coming back? I'd like to get this wedding done."

  My skin crawls and my stomach churns. "I don't know. Maybe a few months."

  "Unacceptable," he says darkly. "I'm a patient man, but not that patient, Gracen. You agreed to be my wife, and when you said you were going to North Carolina with him, you promised it would only be temporary. Until you could get custody worked out with him."

  I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose with my free hand. I had to promise him that. I had to give him hope I'd come back so he'd leave my parents alone until I could figure something out.

  "Listen." My voice comes off too desperate and I hate it. It shows him my weakness. "I've not been able to exactly talk to Marek about custody. He's still really pissed at me for keeping Lilly secret, and well...he's not been the easiest to deal with. I just need a little time--"

  "The note's been accelerated," Owen cuts in on me and my heart sinks that he'd stoop that low. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do to stop it."

  He lets the last few words trail off, leaving the possibility that maybe, just maybe he can help.

  The meaning is clear. There's nothing he'll do to stave off my parents' home being foreclosed on unless I come back and marry him.

  "I've told you, Gracen," he says in a low voice, rumbling with satisfaction he has me cornered with nowhere to go. "Once we're married, your parents are my family. I'll pay off the second mortgage and their house will stay safe."

  I swallow hard, afraid to say anything because I might start crying.

  He doesn't need me to talk, though. He only wants me to listen as he continues. "If the marriage is off, then...well, it's going to go into foreclosure immediately."

  Fucking bastard. He wants to act like my savior, but the asshole is the one who put my parents in this predicament to begin with. All because he wants me on his arm to show off to our community. I'm nothing more than a pretty possession to him. When I hedged on his marriage proposal, he pulled the strings necessary to remove my parents' second mortgage--the ones they took out to finance my nursing degree--from a temporary deferral because my father got laid off from his job. The asshole whose father is president of the local bank that had gladly loaned my parents money a few years prior was now pressing his thumb down on them to get me to agree to marry him.

  "Can you please get another deferral for them, Owen?" I plead, swallowing hard against the bile my next words produce. "I'll get my stuff wrapped up here as quickly as I can. I promise. I'm just trying to be delicate where Lilly's concerned. This is hard on her, so I don't want to cause any waves with Marek."

  I'm going to hell for lying. I know it, and yet I can't help it. I'm getting one mess temporarily straightened up so I can deal with another, only to hope the first mess doesn't implode on me.

  "Marek's an asshole," Owen says smugly, like I should be ashamed for procreating with him. Not for loving him. "Need me to come down ther
e and fix things for you? I'd be glad to. Will it move things along?"

  "No," I say quickly. "I think giving me a bit of time to get on his good side will be the best strategy."

  "And just how do you plan on doing that?" He chuckles, and I know the jerk is amused by my dilemma.

  "By apologizing repetitively for keeping his daughter away from him," I snap back. "Cut him a break, Owen. I totally wronged him."

  This would be the point that Owen may say, "Who cares? He wronged you." But he doesn't know that. He doesn't know the circumstances of how Marek dumped me and broke my heart. I've never shared it with anyone except my parents, who have been my rock-solid support since I found out I was pregnant. They didn't agree with my decision to keep this from Marek, but they did understand why I did it. They understood how badly he let me down and how utterly alone he left me.

  Instead, Owen changes the subject because he doesn't find the subject of Marek's and my downfall worthy. "I'm curious...how did he know we were getting married?"

  "Someone sent him an email," I say as I nibble on my thumbnail.

  "I bet it was your sister, Bev. She can't stand me."

  Not many people can stand you, Owen.

  "It wasn't Bev," I assure him. This I know for a fact. Besides, Bev was beyond delighted that I was marrying Owen and would be moving up in society. She thought it was great.

  "I want a committed time frame, Gracen," Owen says, and my heart starts tripping madly. "I'd like to get the wedding rescheduled."

  "A month," I whisper into the phone. It's not nearly enough time for me to figure things out, but I'm hoping it will satisfy him enough to give me the chance.

  "Two weeks," he counters, except it's not quite a negotiation. When he says "two weeks," he means it, and there's no argument. He softens the blow somewhat by saying, "I'll put in a thirty-day extension on the note for your parents. But after that, I can't help them anymore."

  "Thank you," I reply, my tongue feeling as heavy as the weight on my shoulders right now.

  "Until then," he murmurs seductively.

  Just gross.

  The line goes dead as he hangs up on me, and I realize my hands are sweating.

  Chapter 7

  Marek

  "This may be the dumbest idea you've ever had," I tell Holt as I look at the three sledgehammers lying on his kitchen counter. They're flanked by crowbars.

  "It's a great idea," Holt insists. "I mean, what could be more fun that helping me destroy my kitchen?"

  "Spending time with Josie," Reed mutters as he picks up a sledgehammer to test the weight in his hands.

  Of course he'd say that. He's all in love for the first time in his life and has stars in his eyes.

  What a fool.

  I pick up a sledgehammer myself, get a good two-handed grip, and tap it lightly against the side of one of his cupboards. "So you just want us to knock the shit out of these things, huh?"

  "Pretty much," he says with a grin. "We'll work out our aggressions. We've been far too sedentary this summer."

  This isn't true. We've all hit the gym diligently during the off-season, but he's just trying to get us riled up so we'll start swinging.

  Holt Craig came to the Cold Fury last February just before the trade deadline. He's an incredibly talented center who has been waylaid by injuries the last several seasons. He played most recently for the Dallas Mustangs, but after coming back from his injuries, he lost his first-line position. He was ripe for a trade deal, and Gray Brannon has proved time and again she knows how to pick diamonds in the rough. I can't wait to see what this guy does for the team.

  On a personal note, I was happy to see Holt come to the Cold Fury, as we played in college together at Boston College. He left school for the pros after our freshman year, while I stayed all four years to get my degree. We had a good working relationship and an even better friendship we've maintained long distance over the years.

  Holt bought an old farmhouse as soon as he moved here and wants to renovate the entire thing. The kitchen is his first project. I'd told him he was stupid to sink money into this place when he could easily be traded to another team next year. He just shrugged and said, "What else do I have all this money for if not to spend it? Besides, it will be like an investment."

  I have to admit, there's some appeal to beating the shit out of these kitchen cabinets.

  I woke up this morning with a raging headache and total regrets over the amount of booze I'd consumed. I'm hazy on the details, but I know I wanted to kiss Gracen last night, and that was about as stupid as it comes.

  I was mortified at myself this morning for my lack of self-control where she's concerned, so when Holt texted me to come over for some demolition fun, it was an easy escape for me. I heard Gracen and Lilly moving around upstairs, so I just threw some clothes on, left a quick note on the fridge that I'd be gone during the day, and hightailed it out of there.

  Not the bravest thing in the world, but I'm so twisted up in my feelings that I need some time to process.

  "You seriously couldn't hire people to do this?" Reed asks Holt as he rests the hammer portion of the tool on the tile floor and leans his weight against the handle. I'd invited Reed to come along today, figuring I could put some time in mending our relationship. He wasn't overly thrilled, but he also wasn't going to say no to helping a new teammate out.

  "My interior designer had hired a company to do this, but they had a scheduling conflict," Holt says as he grabs the last sledgehammer off the counter. "I've got new flooring to be installed in two days, so everything needs to be out of here by then. Besides, again...fun. We get to demolish shit."

  "All right," I say, shoring up my grip on the handle. "Let's fucking do this."

  "Let's do it," Holt says with an evil sort of laugh. He steps over to a set of cabinets on a short wall that sits between his pantry and double oven. It has floating cabinets above a built-in desk.

  Just as he starts to swing, a female voice calls out from the front door. "Helloooo. Holt...are you home?"

  Holt tries to halt his swing, bobbles the sledgehammer, and it tumbles out of his hands. The heavy iron end falls onto his foot and he yells, "Fuck."

  Reed and I both snicker, but then straighten up tall when an amazingly beautiful woman walks into the kitchen. Her eyes go straight to Holt, who is muttering curses and limping around in circles.

  "I told you to let me hire someone to do this," the woman says in a throaty purr of a voice. Reed and I stand up a little straighter.

  She's tall, at least five ten and with curves in all the right places. Fashionably dressed in a white wraparound dress that hugs her--also in all the right places--with a pair of black heels that have to be at least four inches high. Her hair is a brilliant shade of red and her eyes are pale green.

  Witchy eyes.

  Holt shoots the woman an exasperated look and then throws his thumb at her. "That's Ellerie."

  "Nice to meet you," I say as I lean forward and extend a hand to her. She shakes it and her grip oozes confidence and poise.

  The smile I get back is warm and genuine. "Back at you, Marek Fabritis."

  "A hockey fan, huh?"

  She releases my hand and nods while reaching across to Reed to shake his. "Big fan. Huge. And good to meet you too, Reed Olson."

  "Likewise," he returns to her with an amused expression.

  Holt sits the sledgehammer on the ground, leaning it up against the desk. He turns to Ellerie and asks, "What are you doing here today? Didn't think you'd be by."

  "I've got a few more fabric samples to look at for the sunroom," she says with a breezy wave of her hand. "I'm on my way to another client's house not far from here and thought I'd just stop by."

  While I know demolishing shit is preferable to studying at fabric samples, Holt levels Ellerie with a huge smile. And why wouldn't he? She's a knockout. "Let's have a look at them then."

  Reed and I glance at each other with matching smirks because look
ing at fabric samples is about as anti-Holt as you can get.

  "The cases are in my car." Ellerie turns away from him to head into the living room and back out the front door, showing me that she's very, very comfortable in his home. Holt follows like a love-struck zombie.

  Very fucking interesting.

  "I wonder if he's banging her," Reed says in a low voice.

  Shaking my head, I put my sledgehammer back into a two-handed grip. "No way. He looks like an adoring puppy right now. Carnal knowledge has not been acquired."

  Reed chuckles. "I suppose you're right."

  "I am," I say knowledgeably. "Now let's get started. I'm dying to smash stuff."

  "There's a job opening at the hospital," Reed says in an abrupt change of. "Josie is going to call Gracen today about it."

  I lower the sledgehammer back down to the ground, resting the heavy steel head on the tile floor. "What's the job?"

  "It's not neonatal, but it is in labor and delivery," Reed says with a shrug. "Josie figured she'd be interested to get her foot in the door."

  Huh. While I've been satisfied with Gracen living in my home and me covering expenses, there is an upside to her getting a job. It means she'll be more permanently affixed to this area. The downside is she won't be dependent on me, and the thought of her leaving the house is unsettling.

  Not because I necessarily want her around.

  Liar.

  But because that would give me more time with Lilly.

  And while I may have no fucking clue what I want with Gracen, I know for sure I want something with Lilly. I'm still completely out of my element with her, but the more time I spend around her, the easier it gets.

  This morning, she came downstairs before Gracen did, and it was clear she had dressed herself. Her shirt was on backward, and while I'm no expert, I'm pretty sure lime green pants with little pink hearts don't go with a navy blue striped T-shirt.

  I pointed out that her shirt was on backward and she actually gave a little frustrated growl. It took me aback for a moment because I thought, Why is this little girl having to dress herself, which is clearly causing her frustration?

  Maybe they were daddy genes rearing their head, but I felt affronted and protective of Lilly all at once. Nothing unusual at all that the first person I got mad at was Gracen, because she was clearly upstairs still and couldn't be bothered to help her daughter out.