Scoring Chance (Carolina Comets)

It’s official: I can’t stop smiling.

And it’s all because of Miller.

We’ve been spending all our free time together. If he’s not at the rink, he’s here. If he doesn’t have a game, I’m staying the night at his place, and he’s giving me orgasms until the sun comes up.

I’m tired all the time, but even so, there is absolutely nothing that could knock this grin off my face right now.

“What’s my baby girl smiling so hard about?”

I freeze in shock at the familiar voice. There’s no way…

I look up, and yep, my father is standing outside of the truck. His graying hair is brushed back in its usual style, and he’s wearing his famous tan khakis and polo shirt. Pops was always the more fashion-forward of the two, but he never pushed Dad to wear anything he didn’t want to, so he didn’t.

Meanwhile, I’m in here thinking about all the dirty things I got up to last night with the pro hockey player I’m kind of dating.

“You’re… Dad!”

He lifts his dark, bushy brows, laughing. “That’d be me. How’s my girl doing?”

“Good. Great. Good.” Oh god. Even I hear how high-pitched and surprised my voice is right now. “Great.”

“That’s good. Or should I say great?”

“Sorry,” I say with a short laugh. “I’m a little tired and just wasn’t expecting you, is all.”

“What? An old man can’t surprise his daughter at work?”

“Of course you can. I just…” I lift my gloved hands; they’re covered in the filling for our Comets Cosmic Brownie donut, which is stuffed with brownie batter.

“I got that, boss,” Rosie says, pushing me aside. “Go visit with your dad, and I’ll finish these up.”

I glance over at her. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I just finished prepping the pudding for the Bananas Over You donut, so I need something new to do.”

“Okay,” I say, tugging my gloves off. “If you insist. Dad, you want a coffee or anything?”

“That’d be great, sweetie. And maybe a—”

“Cheery Cherry Cheesecake donut?”

He grins. “You know me so well. I’ll go grab us a spot.”

I toss my gloves away and wash my hands, then pour a hot black coffee for my father and make myself a vanilla cold brew. After grabbing us each a donut, I find him sitting at a table…and he’s not alone.

“Miller!”

He turns at the sound of his name, spinning around to grin at me.

“Hey, thanks,” he says, jumping up to grab the cold brew from my hands and smacking a kiss on my cheek. “How’d you know that’s what I wanted?” He nods toward my father. “This guy was just telling me about how he’s a huge Comets fan.”

I’m frozen in place, my eyes wide as I meet my dad’s very confused-slash-amused expression.

“Well,” he says quietly, “this is quite the surprise.”

You have no idea.

I shake my head, then walk forward, sliding his coffee across the table. I take a seat, and Miller slides in next to me.

“I see you two have already met, but I suppose a formal introduction is in order…” I look from my father to Miller. “Miller, this is my dad. Dad, this is…”

I trail off because I’m not entirely sure what to say about who Miller is to me. We’re dating, but I’m not sure he’d be comfortable with me labeling him my boyfriend.

I settle on: “This is Grady.”

“The Grady Miller,” my dad says. “As in the Comets’ Grady Miller.”

“Yes,” I confirm, even though I don’t need to.

“Dad…” Miller’s eyes grow about three sizes. He gulps. “Oh.” He wipes his hand on his pant leg, then extends it my father’s way. “It’s great to meet you, sir.”

My dad eyes his hand warily, taking a sip from his coffee, flicking his gaze between me and Miller. “Hmm. When did this happen?”

Miller takes his hand back, laughing awkwardly. He looks nervous, and I can’t say I blame him. Dad is a former firefighter and a big, burly guy. He’s intimidating until you get to know him and find out he’s just a big softy.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Miller starts.

“I’m retired. I have time.”

“Right.” Another awkward chuckle from Miller. “We, uh, we’ve known one another for a while.”

“You know the Comets come by here a lot,” I add.

Miller nods. “Yeah, we love this place. It’s one of our favorites. I met Scout here.” He shakes his head. “No, wait—that’s not true. I mean, it kind of is, but not.”

I dare a peek at my father, who has his brows pinched tightly together, hanging on Miller’s every word.

“I was an idiot, sir. I knew your daughter from the truck, but I didn’t really know her. She wasn’t on my radar. I screwed up and hurt her feelings, and it made me feel like absolute shit.”

His face sours like he still feels that way just thinking about it.

“So,” he continues. “I made it my mission to make it up to her.” He shoots me a grin, and I can’t help but smile back at him. “And after a lot of groveling and admitting what a moron I am, she forgave me. After spending so much time with her, I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn’t do everything I could to extend it. So, I did. I asked her out, and, luckily, she said yes.”

My dad looks at me, surprised by this. He knows what I went through with Aaron and how I’ve stayed single since everything went down with him. The fact that I’m dipping my toes back into the dating pool with a hockey player is mind-blowing to me too.

“It’s still new,” Miller tells him, resting his hand on my leg. “But I like her, sir.” He gives me a gentle squeeze. “A lot.”

I like you a lot, too.

It surprises me how true the words are. I’m trying hard not to get too attached to him. Sure, we’re spending a lot of time together, but I keep reminding myself this is all new for him. He’s never had a relationship before, and he’s never done any of this. I’m not stupid enough to think he’s going to stick around. He’ll probably get his fill and leave me in the dust, ready for something else. I get it.

Besides, it’s not like I’m not benefiting from this too, and I don’t just mean orgasms. I wrote a whole new chapter this morning during my break. My inspiration is at an all-time high.

“Okay,” my dad says, pulling my attention back to him.

“Okay?” Miller asks, looking at me for confirmation.

My dad shrugs. “Yeah. As long as you own up to your mistakes and treat my daughter right from now on, okay. My partner…” He smiles wistfully, no doubt picturing his late husband. “He’d have loved how honest you’re being right now. I appreciate it too.”

“Scout has told me a bit about him,” Miller says. “Sounds like he was a great guy.”

Dad looks over at me, likely because he knows how big of a deal it is that I’ve talked about Pops with anyone, let alone with Miller. “He was the best. He loved hockey and even got me into it. He followed you in the AHL, thought you had some great potential. It’s a bummer he didn’t get to see the team lift the Cup.”

Miller sits up straighter on the bench, his grip on my thigh growing firmer as if he’s struggling with the same emotions that are coursing through me as I listen to my father talk about his husband.

“The next time we do it, it’ll be for him. I promise you that.”

His words are like a hug to my heart, because I know no matter what happens between us, he means them. That’s just the kind of guy Miller is.

“Thank you,” Dad says softly, his voice thick with emotion. He clears his throat, taking another sip of his coffee. “Your sister told me you’ve been writing.”

I groan. “Ugh. Stevie needs to mind her own business.”

A laugh rumbles out of him. “She’s just excited. It’s been so long since…”

I nod. “I know, but still…I don’t want to rush into anything.”

He tightens his lips like he has a lot more to say on the subject but decides not to.

“I’d love to read what you’re writing,” Miller says, and every ounce of my body tenses.

I’m already pretty particular about who I let read my work, but the thought of having Miller see has my body breaking out in a sweat.

He’s looking at me so hopefully and supportively that I don’t want to break his heart.

“Maybe sometime.”

This elicits another surprised look from my father.

I ignore it.

We chat for a while longer about the upcoming hockey season, and my dad tells Miller what he thinks the team needs to do, and how Miller might consider trying a fake shot next time to get it past the Arizona goalie since I guess he bites on those often. Miller’s nice enough to just nod and play along like he’s actually going to take anything he says seriously.

When there’s a natural lull in the conversation, my dad sighs and smacks the table with both hands. That’s his signature move when it’s time to leave.

“Well,” he says, right on cue, rising from the bench, “I guess I better get out of your hair, let you get back to the truck and, you, Miller, back to hockey where I’d best see you try some fake-outs.”

Miller laughs, pushing up to his feet. “Yes, sir.”

This time when he extends his hand, my father shakes it.

Then my dad looks at me, opening his arms, and I fall right into them like I always do. It’s a warm hug, the kind that feels like home.

“I like him,” my father whispers in my ear. “And Pops would too.”

Tears spring to my eyes, and I have to blink them away quickly before Miller sees them. No reason I need to embarrass myself right now.

“Thanks,” I mutter, sniffling as I pull back.

He pecks a kiss on my forehead, gives Miller one last wave, then takes off.

“Well,” Miller says after a few moments of silence, “I didn’t realize I was meeting the family today.”

I laugh. “I didn’t either. He just showed up.”

He lifts his hand, squeezing the back of his neck. “I, uh, noticed you kind of hesitated when introducing me.”

I grimace. “You caught that, huh?” He nods. “I wasn’t sure what we’re labeling this or if we’re labeling this.”

“I mean, we’ve been seeing one another for nearly two months now. I’m okay with a label if you are.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And it’s…exclusive?”

A dark look crosses his features. “I don’t fucking share, Scout.”

The deep rumble that leaves him almost scares me because I am not expecting the turn his mood has taken.

But oddly, I find it incredibly hot that he’s being so protective over me—not that he has a reason to be. I haven’t been with anyone in years, and there are absolutely zero other people I’m interested in.

“I don’t want to share either.”

The tension releases from his shoulders, and he relaxes. “Good.”

“Good.” I nod. “I guess that makes us…”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend. Another first for me,” he mutters.

“I feel special I’m getting all your firsts.”

He blushes at that, and it’s cute to see a massive, grown-ass hockey player blush.

“So, uh, no offense or anything, but what are you doing here?”

“Right. That.” He tucks his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “I’m leaving tonight, so I figured I’d pop in and see you. You know, in case you miss me while I’m gone.”

“I think you’ll be the one missing me.”

He furrows his brows. “Of course I will.”

“I am very missable.”

He laughs, reaching out and grabbing one of the straps on my overalls, tugging me closer to him. He rests his ass at the end of the picnic table, and I step between his legs. It feels natural, like we’ve done this dance a thousand times before.

I’m not sure how to feel about it, but I do know I’m not willing to decipher it right now either.

“Come on, Girlfriend Scout, admit that you’re going to miss me.”

I can’t help but grin at my new name.

“Your orgasms, maybe. But you?” I shrug. “Eh.”

“Eh? Eh?” He nuzzles his nose against my cheek. “I’ll show you eh.”

He attacks me with his mouth, kissing me breathless before wrenching his lips from mine and peppering kisses along my jawline, down my neck on both sides, then back to my lips. I’m unsurprised when I’m gasping for air and basically rubbing myself against him by the time he pulls away.

“Are you sure you’re not going to miss me?” he asks, a wicked grin on his face.

“I’m sure.”

He captures my mouth in another heated kiss, his hands moving lower and lower until he’s cupping my ass, pulling me so close I can feel his hardened cock straining against his jeans. We should stop. This is my place of business. It’s entirely inappropriate what we’re doing. As much as I don’t want to stop—and I really don’t want to—I drag my mouth from his.

“What about now?” he asks, just as out of breath as I am.

“If I say yes, will you promise to stop kissing me like that? We’re going to make a scene.”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, Boyfriend Miller, I’ll miss you.”

“I don’t know, I feel like you’re just saying it to say it now.”

“Miller…” I growl, and he laughs.

“Fine, fine. I believe you.”

“Good. Because I will, Grady. I’ll miss you.”

It’s true. He’s going to be gone for a week, and I will miss him, not just because of the orgasms or the kisses, but because I like being around him entirely too much.

“Say it again.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“No, the other part.”

“Your name?” He nods. “I’ll miss you, Grady.”

He sighs.

And then he breaks his promise and kisses me senseless all over again.