Maddy.

  I really shouldn’t. There are a million reasons why going to look for Maddy is a bad idea, although right now, I can’t think of any of them. All I can think of is her soft skin and her pretty eyes, and the way her red hair looked spread out all over my pillow. The way she took exactly what she wanted and gave me something I didn’t realize I needed. The sounds she made when she came and how, when I woke up alone, the ache that settled in my chest felt like way too much for a simple one-night stand.

  Nothing about last night was simple.

  Nothing about my life of being a widower and single parenting two kids is simple.

  And yet, as I stand here, all I can think is that simple is overrated, and maybe what I need in my life is some complexity.

  Maybe what I need in my life is her.

  Tapping the table with my knuckles, I make my decision. Grabbing my phone and shoving it into the pocket of my shorts, I head out of the conference room to go see about a girl.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MADDY

  Studying the diploma I just hung on my office wall, I tilt it a centimeter to the left and then step back with a grin, a little thrill zipping up my spine.

  My office. The one with my name on the door. My name. Dr. Maddy Wright. Director of Sports Psychology. I’m so excited I need a pillow to scream into. In lieu of a pillow, I stomp my feet and spin in a circle until I’m dizzy, collapsing into my chair and kicking my feet up on the desk.

  I fucking made it.

  Nerves? Don’t know them.

  “That’s a really happy face.”

  My head shoots up at the familiar voice, and I find myself looking directly into the eyes of the man I haven’t stopped thinking about for approximately the last thirteen hours. The man suddenly standing casually just outside my office door, gripping the top of the door frame with one hand like he’s a freaking romance novel hero or something. He looks hot as fuck in athletic shorts and a white T-shirt that shows off forearms I may or may not have actually licked last night and stretches across a set of abs I could probably draw in my sleep. You know, if I wanted to do something like that.

  “It’s the players’ day off. No one is supposed to be down here.” I try for accusatory, but my slightly breathy tone doesn’t quite get there. Dammit.

  Cam just shrugs, leaning harder into the door frame, his shirt riding up enough that I get a flash of those abs, and my entire body practically lights itself on fire. “I was in the building, so I figured I would have one of the trainers work on my hip. You know, just to make absolutely sure it’s ready for the home opener.”

  His hip is fine. I know his hip is fine because he used it to give me eight million orgasms last night. He’s down here to see me. I know it for sure, and I hate that it gives me a little thrill. But I can’t say any of that to him, so instead, I lift an eyebrow, very clearly calling bullshit. “Your stats in the preseason have been amazing. Your hip doesn’t seem to be giving you any trouble.”

  A grin lights up his face. “You been checking up on me, Dr. Wright?”

  “Maddy,” I croak. I clear my throat quickly and try again. “Call me Maddy.”

  “Maddy,” he says slowly, and another bolt of heat shoots through me at the way my name sounds coming out of his mouth. I think maybe I should have told him to stick with Dr. Wright. Although that has a certain sexy ring to it I may or may not like a whole lot. Gah. Shit. “You been checking up on me, Maddy?”

  Rolling my eyes, I drop my feet and stand, resting my hands on the desk. “I’ve been checking up on everyone. It’s literally my job.”

  Dropping his hand from the doorframe, he saunters into my office and sets a bag I’m just noticing he was carrying onto the floor, flopping into the chair across from my desk. He stretches his long legs out in front of him and runs a casual hand through his tousled hair, and it’s all so painfully sexy I could die. “Yeah, but I’m not just anyone, Wildcat. Am I?”

  The way he emphasizes Wildcat has those images from last night pummeling my brain again and makes me feel like I need to check and make sure my underwear is still present and accounted for and hasn’t melted clean off my body because no, he’s definitely not just anyone, and that is a huge problem for me.

  “Don’t call me that,” I hiss, overcompensating for the fact that I feel like I’m burning from the inside out. “Last night was wild. Nothing else about me is except for the hockey team I played on in college. And close the damn door.”

  He twists his body and stretches out a long arm, swinging the door shut before turning back to me. “We’ll get back to the hockey team because that is straight sexy, Maddy. And that that thing you did with your tongue when your head was hanging off the bed? That felt wild to me.”

  “No,” I say, pointing at him, sure my cheeks are bright red. The curses of being a freckled redhead. “Talking about what we may or may not have done last night is exactly what we’re not going to do right now.”

  Cam smirks at me and crosses his arms over his chest. His muscles flex with the movement, and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on his face. “You and I both know there isn’t much we didn’t do last night, and I have the claw marks on my back to prove it. Those are some sharp nails you’ve got there, Wildcat.”

  “Me?” I drop back into my chair with an indignant huff. “What about you? I’m wearing like ten pounds of concealer to cover up a hickey on my neck. You gave me a fucking hickey, Cameron, like we’re in high school.”

  Something feral swims in his eyes as his gaze drops directly to my neck and then back up to meet mine, and when he speaks, his voice is low. Raspy. Sex voice. Good lord, this man is giving me his sex voice in my goddamn office. “So both of us are wearing the reminder of last night. I like the idea of you walking around with my mark on you.” Then, like he flips a switch, he grins, and his voice is back to normal, all deep rumble and good cheer. “You know, I think maybe it’s fate.”

  I roll my eyes to combat the whiplash I feel at this man’s presence in my office and his abrupt switch from sex god to affable athlete. “What’s fate?”

  His smile widens as he props one calf on the opposite knee. A dimple pops in his cheek and honestly, I think I might just expire right here. RIP me. It’s been a good life; glad I had amazing sex before it all ended. “You and me. I mean, what were the chances we both ended up in that bar last night? I never go to bars. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you, and here you are, right where I work. That’s a whole lot of coincidence.”

  Leaning forward, I cross my arms over my desk going for unaffected professional. “I go to that bar all the time. My best friend knows the owner. And everything about last night was wild. But like I said, I’m not wild. I’m just me. Last night was last night, and today is today. I’m here where you work because I work here too. I’m literally your doctor. The psychologist in charge of making sure all you overgrown children masquerading as professional football players have impeccable mental health.”

  Cam uncrosses his legs, leaning forward so he mirrors my pose. “First of all, you’re not just anything. I think you might be everything.” He runs a single finger over the back of my hand the way he did in the bar last night, his eyes lighting up as goosebumps break out over my skin. “And also, I already have impeccable mental health.”

  “Do you really?” I ask skeptically, trying to avoid showing him how much his You might be everything comment affected me.

  Spoiler alert, it affected me a lot. So much that I briefly consider hurling myself across the desk and straight into his lap. But cooler heads prevail.

  He shrugs. “I mean, I’m a thirty-four-year-old single dad of two kids. My wife died ten years ago when my son was an infant, and every day of my life, I balance the demands of being a professional football player and parenting two kids who get simultaneously harder and easier to raise as they get older, which makes no sense at all, but there it is anyway. At any given moment, I’m juggling no fewer than eight different things, and without my mom living down the street from me and picking up the slack, my entire house of cards would come tumbling down.” He smiles again, and the warmth in it transfers to my chest, my heart beating a little faster. “But I love those kids with my whole heart, and I’m proud of all three of us every damn day. And I love playing football. So that house of cards? Totally worth it.”

  I blow out a breath. “That’s some well-adjusted shit, Cameron.”

  He flashes me a grin. “Say my name again, Wildcat. I love hearing it.”

  I roll my eyes. “No. And don’t call me Wildcat. My name is Maddy.”

  “Is Maddy short for something?” He leans back again, getting comfortable, and I like the way he’s settling in. I like it way too much.

  “Yes, but that’s information I dispense on a need-to-know basis, and you definitely don’t need to know.”

  “Don’t I?” he asks with a smirk.

  “One hundred percent you don’t.”

  “What if I want to know?” he asks playfully. Then his face turns serious. Intense. “What if I want to know everything about you?”

  I swallow hard, gripping the arms of my chair to keep him from seeing just how much I want him to know all the things about me. How I want to know everything about him in a way that has nothing to do with my job and everything to do with him, and that’s a whole entire mess.

  “How old are your kids?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Anything to change the damn subject.

  His smile lights up his face when I ask about his kids, and how fucking cute is that? “Ethan is ten and about to start fifth grade. About two years ago, he decided hockey is the great love of his life, so our lives pretty much revolve around that. Or, as much as they can given all of this.”

  He waves his hand in the general direction of the training room and, remembering what it was like when my brother, Oliver, and I were kids obsessed with hockey, I feel a little tug of sympathy for how hard it must be for Cam to do all of that alongside his football career. “And your daughter?”

  “Riley is thirteen. She officially starts her freshman year next week, but she’s at school this week for try outs and then rehearsals for the fall play. She texted me this morning that she got the lead in Mamma Mia.”

  The pride on his face almost knocks me over, and god, if there is something more attractive than a dad who loves his kids please point me to it because I don’t think it actually exists.

  Tread carefully, Maddy, I remind myself.

  “Theater kid?”

  Cam chuckles. “Oh yeah, you bet. She’s been a theater kid since she was two years old and memorized the entire opening number of Hamilton. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a tiny two-year-old with curly pigtails scream-sing ‘I’m the damn fool who shot him.’ She’s been acting her whole life, but she got serious about it in middle school and wants to be a star.”

  “Is she at Fieldston?”

  “She sure is. It wasn’t my easiest choice, but she wanted it so badly. I had to support her even though the parent in me wishes she wanted to be, like, a lawyer or something. Anything easier than actor.”

  I laugh, thinking back about twelve years when Gabe and Molly were singing the same tune. “If it makes you feel any better, my best friend Sophie went to Fieldston with big dreams of being a rom-com actress for the ages.”

  “What’s she doing now?”

  “She’s a brilliant computer genius and is the executive director of the women in STEM foundation her dad founded years ago.”

  Cam furrows his forehead in thought. “Are you talking about Sophie Sullivan and the InspireSTEM foundation?”

  “Yeah, you know it?”

  He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I know it. I know it well. I do some volunteering with their elementary school initiatives. My wife was an elementary school STEM teacher before she died, and working with Inspire has been my little way of honoring her over the years. And Sophie is best friends with the quarterback of this team, who is also a good friend of mine.”

  I’m silent for a beat, trying to swallow down the emotion I feel at the idea that with everything else he has going on, this man does volunteer work to honor his late wife. I really need to stay objective where he’s concerned, but I’m worried I’ve sailed past objective and straight into holy shit I really like him. “I’ve known her most of my life. Tyler is a good friend of mine too. Their moms and my mom have been best friends forever, so we grew up together.”

  “If that’s true, how come I’ve never seen you before last night? This is Tyler’s fourth season, and Sophie comes to games all the time.”

  I shrug. “I’m really more of a hockey fan.”

  He scowls at me. “We’ll work on that. Wait,” he says suddenly, eyebrows drawn together like he’s trying to figure something out. “When I met with Olivia earlier, she mentioned that her brother’s wife and your mom had been friends for thirty years. Is Olivia Gabriel Sullivan’s sister? Sophie’s aunt?”

  I laugh at the confusion in his voice. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

  He looks baffled. “I only know her as Brian’s wife.”

  I shrug. “She and their other sister don’t exactly advertise that their brother is one of the most famous tech founders in history, but it’s not a secret. To me he’s just Gabe, my nerdy pseudo-uncle. My extended family is made up of nine separate families plus a handful of grandparents spanning two cities. We’re a massive chaotic crew of people who are blood related and people who aren’t, but no one focuses too much on who’s actually related to whom. We’re all just family.”

  “Olivia mentioned something about that,” he murmurs, a feeling I recognize well painted all over his face. I may not have felt it since I was a kid, before I came to live with my mom and dad, but it’s not one you forget. Cam might have two kids and a thriving career, and I know he mentioned his mom being part of his life, but despite all of that, he’s missing something.

  Cam is lonely.

  My empathetic heart aches just a little, and I have to practically slap a hand over my mouth to keep from offering him a spot right in the middle of my own family chaos.

  Objective, Maddy. Be objective.

  “So how has school been for your daughter so far? Most of her friends must have gone somewhere else.”

  “What?” Cam asks, like he lost the thread of our conversation.

  “Riley,” I say. “She must not have too many friends from middle school who made the move to Fieldston with her. Is she adjusting okay?”

  “So far, so good, I think. Classes haven’t started yet, but she loves the theater and she seems happy, especially now that she got the part she wanted so badly.”

  I nod. “That’s really good to hear. I think…” I’m cut off when my stomach lets out a loud growl, and holy embarrassment.

  “Hungry?” Cam asks with a broad smile.

  I drop my head back and sigh because I can’t even think of a way to be cool in this moment. Or any moment, really, but especially this one. “I was too nervous about my first day to eat this morning.”

  Cam shakes his head at me. “Can’t be skipping meals, Wildcat.” His lips twist up in a smirk. “Especially after all the calories you burned last night.”

  I groan. “Stop it right now. Last night never happened, okay? It was a moment of pure insanity, and it’s over now. We’re friends.” I shake my head. “No, actually. We’re not friends. Nothing about us is friendly. I’m your psychologist, and you’re my patient. That’s the sum total of our relationship. That’s it. Look. Last night…” I pause and take a breath, wondering if I’m about to admit the truth of how I feel and decide what the hell? Might as well go all in and hope he gets it. “Last night was amazing. Is that what you want to hear? It was the literal actual best sex I’ve ever had. You’re a really nice guy, and you’ve got that whole hot dad thing going on that is so attractive I could die, and I really wish things could be different, but they can’t.”

  Cam chuckles. “I mean, you can say it never happened, but last night will live on in my head for all of eternity.”

  Cam’s face morphs into the smuggest expression I’ve ever seen, and I roll my eyes, ignoring the fact that I find that particular smug expression unbearably sexy. Fuck me. “I’m serious, Cam. I’m the head of sports psychology for an NFL team. The female head of sports psychology. There are already going to be people who think I can’t do the job because I’m a woman. Add the fact that my uncle is the general manager of the team, and I might as well have a target right on my back that screams unqualified nepo baby. If anyone found out I spent the night with one of the players, I would be a joke. No one in this industry would ever take me seriously again. Do you understand?”

  Cam’s face turns serious and he leans forward, propping his forearms on my desk. “I really, really do. What you’re doing here? This job? It’s amazing, and I would never do anything to mess that up.” He stands, splaying his hands on the desk and leaning forward. “We can be friends. Psychologist and patient. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. I’m just happy I get to see your face every day. When I woke up alone this morning, I thought I would never get to see it again.”

  Bending down, he picks up the bag he brought into my office and sets it on my desk. “I think I got everything right, although I didn’t know what kind of cereal was your favorite, so I got them all. Have a great first day, Maddy.”

  With a grin and a wink, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

  All I can do is stare after him, wondering what the hell just happened, and why I’m already looking forward to it happening again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CAM

  “Let’s go Eth!” I call, pounding my fist on the glass as Ethan accepts the pass from his linemate, scooping up the puck as he flies down the ice. The rink air is cold on my face, and the thrill of competition zips in my veins as I watch my son do his favorite thing.

  “Oh my god, Dad,” Riley mumbles, ducking as low as possible into her seat on the bleachers at the Pittsburgh Lightning practice arena where Ethan’s team plays some of their games. “You are so embarrassing. Did we have to sit in the first row?”