“I’m not an idiot. I know that.” He places his hands on his hips.
Mr. Jacobs is silent for a long time, but his eyes are focused on Ford. He finally raises his finger. “Mark my words, you’re going to fuck this up.”
“Is that what the problem is, Dad, you think you fucked up with me?”
“You have no idea what I think,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking toward the door that will lead to where Mrs. Jacobs is. “Lena, spin this in a positive light. Say Ford is excited to have more time with his daughter and up for the responsibilities of being full-time dad. Then get some pictures to show them bonding and give an exclusive to someone.”
I hate when he dictates the plan of attack to me instead of asking my opinion. He hired me for my expertise, but that’s what happens with powerful men. They trust no one but themselves.
“Now I have to let some schmuck take pictures of my daughter for a damn magazine? This is bullshit.” Ford walks to the other side of the room and up the stairs.
“Man, that was a doozy,” Imogen says once it’s just the two of us in the room. “How are you going to pull this off?”
I blow out a breath and steal her fourth donut, taking a big bite. “I have no fudging clue.”
“The baby’s not here, you can swear.” Imogen laughs, sipping her coffee.
I exhale on a sigh. Nothing about any of this will be easy. I have a feeling I’ll be biting back curse words for months to come.
“See, you can’t take pictures of her in a onesie,” Saige says to Paisley after they change Annabelle’s outfit and put on some kind of bow thing that wraps around her head.
Saige and Paisley act as if my daughter is their personal practice baby before they marry and have kids with my teammates, Aiden and Maksim. Speaking of, those two are sitting on my couch, laughing at some stupid prank show on the television. We’ve got a game tonight and shouldn’t be sitting on our asses. We should be getting our heads in the game.
“When is Lena coming with the photographer?” Saige asks, playing peekaboo with Annabelle, who doesn’t seem that into the game.
“I have no fucking clue. Soon, I guess.” I strip off my fourth shirt to put on another one I picked up from the cleaners.
“Can you please stop stripping in front of my girl?” Aiden says.
“Why? You afraid she’ll come over to my side?” I waggle my eyebrows.
“You have the baby she wants, so…” Aiden laughs.
Saige shakes her head. “I should clarify, I want a baby with you, not Ford. I love this little one, but she still has half his genes.” She makes a silly face at Annabelle as if that’s going to spur a laugh out of her.
“Hey, that’s offensive.” I button up my shirt.
Paisley eyes me. “You look too professional. Not like a single dad with a baby.”
I groan. “Want me to get the shirt she spit up on earlier?”
Paisley shrugs. “I’m just saying.” She goes over and snuggles up to Maksim.
“Relax, he’s just testy because Lena’s coming,” Maksim says.
Just the name makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Lena Boyd. The woman drives me insane. Constantly at my father’s beck and call. Doing whatever he wants her to do. Have some self-respect.
“Come on, I know you’re hot for her,” Saige says, still googly-eyed over Annabelle.
“You’re kidding, right? The woman wears pants all the time and blouses that cover every inch of her body. Heels? Forget it. She’s constantly in flats. And the woman is stuck up my dad’s ass to top it all off.”
No one says anything. I unbutton my shirt and grab my brown V-neck sweater without putting a shirt on underneath, then I push up the sleeves.
“This good enough?” I direct my question to Paisley.
“Much better. These pictures are going to make women’s ovaries explode,” she says.
“Kotik,” Maksim grinds out his Russian nickname for her.
She blushes. “I didn’t say mine. My ovaries only explode for you.”
They bring their heads together in an Eskimo kiss that makes bile rise up my throat.
I can’t believe my two best buddies have fallen in love. We’re in the prime of our lives, hockey gods making bank, and they decide to put on a set of handcuffs. Not to say I don’t like Saige and Paisley, they’re awesome, but they’ve taken my boys away from me.
“I’m only doing this shoot to appease my dad,” I grumble.
“I thought you hated your dad?” Saige asked.
I don’t hate my dad. We don’t see eye to eye on almost everything, but my dad is still a decent guy. He just doesn’t understand me, and the more he tries to control me, the harder I push in the opposite direction. It’s been our relationship for as long as I can remember.
“I have to do some things so he stays off my ass. As long as I’m playing hockey, it’s just the way it is.” I shrug.
“What’s your long-term goal? Like after you retire from hockey, will you work in the family business?” Paisley asks, her psychologist’s brain never staying in the therapy room.
“All I know is that I want to retire as a hockey player. While I’m still good and am still wanted, but as old as I can be.”
“Amen.” Aiden and Maksim raise their water bottles.
“And then?” Paisley pushes.
“And then I’ll retire with my money from the endorsements, league play, and my trust fund. I’ll have no reason to work.”
She tilts her head. “But won’t you get bored?”
This is the first time I’ve really thought much about what will happen after I retire. I always felt like retirement was the finish line for me, but I’ll be lucky if I make it to forty still playing in the league. That’s young.
I quickly do the math, realizing Annabelle will be twelve if I make it that long. If she’s anything like me, she won’t want to be hanging with her dad all the time. I guess I’ll still be young enough to live my life the way I was before she was born, but to my surprise, a tinge of loneliness hits me right in the heart. I rub the spot, not understanding why it’s there.
“Being a single rich guy who lives on the beach and does whatever I want every day? Sounds terrible.”
“Are you saying you never want to get married?” Saige asks.
“You girls are barking up the wrong tree,” Aiden says before downing the rest of his water. “This man right here is the only one I can see never falling into monogamy.”
“That true?” Saige asks, clearly wanting to hear it from my mouth.
I shrug. “Haven’t ever thought much about it. All I know is right now, my hands are full.”
The doorbell rings. Thank God for the interruption, even if it is Lena.
“I’ll get it.” Paisley jumps off Maksim and heads to the door.
Lena’s familiar voice echoes down the hall from the door and my back straightens. I ready myself to do something I don’t want to.
“I love your pants,” Paisley says.
Sure enough, when the two emerge, Lena Boyd is buttoned up as tight as her ass. She’s wearing long pinstripe pants and a puffy blouse that hides the curves I know she has because I felt them on New Year’s Eve when she was in my arms and her lips were on mine. That night, she wore a pair of leggings that showed off what these pants hide.