Evalyn

I look critically at myself in the mirror. I don’t have a lot of fancy clothes, so I’ve spent the past half hour trying on various options for tonight’s team dinner. I’m currently wearing a silver halter dress that leaves my back bare. It comes to my mid thighs, but I’m worried it might not be the right choice. The dress code simply said formal. I wish I knew if that meant Sunday best, night at the club, or red carpet event. My halter dress is closest to night at the club, but it’s the fanciest thing I own. I tug at the skirt.

“What’s the holdup?”

I look over my shoulder to see my best friend, Monica, standing in the doorway. “Is this dress okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, you look hot,” she replies. “The shoes are good, too. What are you worried about?”

I turn back to my reflection and adjust the dress. “It just feels like…a lot.” I glance back at Monica. “Where’s Lily?”

But then I hear my six-year-old’s defiant voice in the living room. “Those are mine!” she yells.

Monica and I exchange a look, then hurry out to find Lily standing on the arm of the couch, holding an empty cup above Blake’s head. His head and shirt are soaking wet.

I feel a small swell of pride for my daughter. And yes, it’s accompanied by a twinge of horror that she clearly just dumped a cup of water onto my boss’s head. I absolutely trust Blake with my kid, so whatever he did, it probably didn’t warrant this reaction. But I don’t ever want her to take shit from anyone, especially not a man. And if my boss has to take a cup of water to the head for that, then so be it.

That said, I should probably do some damage control here. “What happened?” I ask.

Lily glares up at me. Her gray eyes are just like her father’s, and right now they’re stormy with emotion, like the sky before a hurricane. “He ate the chips!” she says, her little voice full of anger.

I frown at her. “I got those out for both of you,” I say.

“That’s what I tried to tell her,” Blake explains, wiping the water from his face.

“I’m so sorry, Blake—” I start to apologize, but Lily clambers down from the arm of the couch and wraps herself around my leg.

“I don’t want his boy germs on my chips.” She pouts viciously.

Blake raises his hands in surrender. “I don’t have germs!” he says.

Lily just peers out from behind my leg and growls at him. “Hey,” I say, looking down at her. “Don’t growl at people, please.” But Lily just snarls louder, and I feel my blood pressure rise. I wonder, not for the first time, just how feral my kid actually is.

I pick her up. “Sorry, Blake,” I say. “Just gimme a minute.”

I carry my daughter to her room, and when she starts squirming, I plunk her down on the bed, then crouch in front of her. “Hey, let’s take some deep breaths,” I tell her. Her face is screwed up with emotion, and I’m reminded again of how big her feelings are. Like she’s too small to contain them all. But she puts her little hand on her tummy and takes an exaggerated breath. Then another. And as she breathes, she gets a little calmer.

“I know you were mad,” I tell her. “But it’s not nice to growl at Mommy’s friends. Or dump water on them.”

“I don’t like his germs!” Lily says, pouting. She’s still not completely over the chips incident, clearly.

“I know,” I reply, putting my hands on her arms. “But I brought those chips out to share, and Blake doesn’t have germs.”

“He does!”

I feel my own temper rising. “But baby, growling and throwing water on Mommy’s friends aren’t good choices.”

“I don’t want Blake to be your friend!”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Mommy likes having other friends.”

“You have Monica to be your friend,” she says. “And me.”

“I do,” I say. I sit cross-legged next to Lily’s bed and pull her into my lap. “But Blake is my friend, too. And do you remember what a boss is?”

“Like a teacher?” she asks.

I nod. “Kind of like a teacher, but for Mommy’s job. Blake is my boss. So I want us to be nice to him because of that, too.”

Lily gazes up at me, her lip trembling a little. “Are you going to get hired?”

I sit in confusion for a minute, and then try not to laugh. “Do you mean ‘fired’?”

“Yeah, when you don’t have your job anymore?”

I hug her to me. “I don’t think I’ll get fired,” I tell her. “But it’s still not nice to growl at people, or throw water on them. When we get mad, what do we do?”

Lily throws her head back in irritation, then sings the Daniel Tiger song that’s been a staple in our household. “When you feel so mad that you want to roar, take a deep breath and count to four.”

“Good job,” I say, squeezing her tightly. “And then?”

“And then we try to solve the problem,” she finishes. “And not be mean.”

“Exactly,” I tell her. “And if we do say something mean?”

“We say sorry.” Lily says this in a groan, and I swear I can see the teenager she’s going to become.

“Are you ready to say sorry to Blake?”

“Okay,” she says. I can tell she’s still reluctant, but she’s only six, so I’ll take it. I stand and lift her off the bed, then carry her into the hallway.

I find Blake standing in the bathroom, running the blow dryer over his shirt. He grins at me. “Monica’s idea,” he said.

I laugh. When Blake smiles like this, I can appreciate just how handsome he is. His high-end blue dress shirt brings out the blue of his eyes, and when he smiles or laughs, crinkles appear around them. I find myself noticing the shape of his arms in his shirt sleeves, the slim waist that tapers into his dress pants. He turns off the blow dryer when he sees Lily at my side.

I clear my throat—and my thoughts. “Lily had something she wanted to say to you,” I say.

Lily is still hiding behind my leg, but she mutters a quick, “Sorry.” Then she bolts for her room.

“I got her,” Monica says. God, I’m grateful to have a best friend who loves my kid as much as I do.

I turn back to Blake. “Sorry,” I say, adding to my six-year-old’s apology.

“Don’t worry about it,” Blake says. “She’s a little kid, and it’s just water.” He pauses and looks me up and down. “You look fantastic,” he says.

I feel myself flush. For some reason, I hear Axel’s voice in my head, the way he called me beautiful that night we met. I remember the way he ran his hand over my body as if I were a work of art. But then I give myself a mental shake.

Who cares about that guy? He’s just the asshole enforcer on a hockey team. This is my friend Blake. Or my…boss. Who I am definitely not checking out. Because he’s my boss.

“Ready?” Blake says. I nod. He grabs his suit jacket from where he laid it on the back of the couch (out of harm’s way, thankfully), then offers me his arm.

“We’re heading out!” I call to Monica and Lily.

“Bye!” Monica calls out.

In the driveway, Blake opens the door of his Porsche, and I slip into the front seat, feeling self-conscious. This car costs more than I have ever made in my life. Even if I had a car this nice, I’d probably have to sell it to pay off my student loans.

But Blake is casual and friendly as we make our way to the Italian restaurant he reserved for the team party. As we walk inside, my heartbeat picks up a little. I’m almost afraid to see Axel here. Our fight back at the arena is still fresh in my mind, and we definitely didn’t come to any kind of resolution. I still have a lot of unanswered questions, but at this point, I refuse to ask them.

I find myself scanning the room, looking for Axel’s muscular form. As we make our way to a table, I feel Blake’s warm hand in the small of my back, and I’m suddenly very aware of just how much of my skin is showing.

Maybe I’ll just pretend Axel isn’t here, I think. I’ll just enjoy this evening with Blake.

But then I hear a growl reverberating behind me. I can almost feel it in the walls of the elegant space. I turn to see Axel standing a few feet away, his eyes on Blake’s hand.

He looks like he wants to tear Blake apart.