He stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as he presses his face into my hair. “Morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
My stomach does an embarrassing little flip at the nickname. It’s not new. He’s been calling me that since our first night together. What is new is that I like it.
“Morning,” I whisper, rolling over to face him.
His navy-blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, but his lips quirk into a slow grin. “Big plans tonight?”
I blink at him.Doeshe know? “Nope. Probably takeout and a movie.”
Something flickers across his face—gone before I can place it. But he just hums and kisses my temple. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
Okay, no. He definitely doesn’t. He’ll probably be annoyed that I didn’t tell him, but he’ll get over it.
“All right, sleepyhead,” I murmur. “We’ve gotta get up. Kids to teach and all that.”
* * * *
I pop into my dad’s office when we get to the rink, sending Rhodes off to wrangle the kids as they trickle into the arena. The familiar scent of coffee and the faintest hint of the menthol balm he uses on his wrists fills the air.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, leaning against the doorframe with a smile.
Carter Abrams looks up from his paperwork. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at me, a little more these days than I remember. I guess we’re both getting older.
“Hey, Mo. Happy birthday, honey.”
“Thanks.” I step inside, rocking on the balls of my feet. “Just wanted to pop in and say hi before I head to the clinic.”
He sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, “Did your mom call?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head.
He hmphs in annoyance. “Sorry, honey.”
I just shrug. “Eh, who needs Elaine when I’ve got you?” I mean it, too. She can stay at her Arizona spa forever for all I care. “She’d make today all about her anyways.”
He chuckles. “That she would.” He taps a pencil and gives me a pointed look. “You got plans with anyone…special tonight?”
Oh, he’sfishing.
It’s an obvious probe, and I know my dad well enough to pick up the subtext.Are you going out with Rhodes?He’s been skillfully avoiding the topic, but let’s be real—Rhodes isn’t exactly subtle. I’m positive that his love language is touch, because he’s always finding ways to touch me. Tucking my hair behind my ears, resting his hand on my lower back, just generally being in the vicinity ofme.
To my dad’s credit, he hasn’t said anything about it. But I know he’s clocking it.
I’m not sure he loves the idea of his daughter dating his prize hockey star.
Oh,fuck.Dating.
I think I just subconsciously put a label on us.
I blink, my mouth parting slightly as the realization slams into me like a freight train. I might have just landed myself a boyfriend.
Huh.Happy birthday to me, I guess.
I should probably clue Rhodes in on that at some point. He’s going to be thrilled.
“No plans,” I answer quickly, smoothing my palms over my leggings, suddenly feeling too aware of every single movement I make. “Just takeout and a movie, probably.”
Dad grunts, a noise that sounds somewhere between relieved and skeptical, but doesn’t push any further.