Grinder (Seattle Sharks Book 1) (2 page)

L
ettie bounced
in her perfectly-sized wooden chair at the table Gage had custom built just for her—a replica of the adult table that could seat twelve, which often went unused in the dining room just off the kitchen. Several pieces of cardstock lay spread over the table, along with two mixed boxes of crayons. The girl was only three but she rocked at primary color blends.

   “You want scrambled or sunny today, Lettie?” I asked while I got out her favorite purple plate from the kitchen island drawer.

   She pushed away a few long brown curls that had fallen in front of her blue eyes. “Sunny. And a muffin!”

   I arched an eyebrow at her.

   “Please!” she added after a few moments.

   I smiled and gave her a nod. “Coming right up.”

   The kitchen—which was big enough to fully sustain a houseful of eight—was one of my favorite spots in the house. It was well organized and stocked with top of the line equipment.

   When I’d first taken the position of Lettie’s nanny six months ago, I was intimidated by all the gadgetry, but now functioning in it wasn’t only a breeze, it was comfortable. Gage had upgraded the spot in the house with the exact reasoning to ensure it was easy to whip up whatever Lettie was in the mood for. Which was laughable now, since the girl ate
maybe
six types of food, period.

   She was on an egg kick this month, and it was a fun challenge trying to coax her into a wider palate.

  “What are you coloring?” I asked her while opening the fridge to snag a few eggs and the whole-wheat blueberry muffins I’d made her yesterday.

“Puppies,” she answered without looking up at me.

The clacking of heels on the marble floor cut off my response. “Looks like a bunch of swirls to me,” the blonde said, glancing over Lettie’s shoulder.

I set the eggs down and locked eyes with Lettie, flashing her an exaggerated fish face to erase the wrinkles scrunched between her eyebrows.

The blonde leaned over the kitchen island, her dozen or so gold bangle bracelets scraping the surface. “God, I need coffee. Cream, two sugars.”

The pot was fresh and full behind me, but I shook my head. “I’m busy.” I turned and grabbed the skillet off the counter.

The girl’s dress—if you could call it that—was a sparkling, wrinkled mess, and though I could tell she’d attempted to wash the old makeup off her face this morning, she still was sporting some fierce raccoon eyes. She huffed. “Some maid.”

A bite of anger nipped at my chest and I set the skillet on the gas burner a little too hard. It never failed, puck-bunnies either thought I was the maid or a wife he never told them about.

“I’m going to tell Gage you were rude to me,” she continued.

I chuckled, cracking an egg and letting it hit the hot skillet. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’ll be hard to tell him without his cell number.”

“How did you know he didn’t…” the girl smacked her lips shut and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

The pain that flickered in her black rimmed eyes almost made me feel sorry for her.
Almost
. But she’d gotten herself into this mess, just like every other flavor of the night did with Gage.

I’d known him before he became the famous NHL bad boy he was now, but he’d always been an honest man. He’d never let a puck-bunny think she was anything more than that, and there was only one woman in the entire world who owned his heart, and that was Lettie.

In a bracelet-jingling, heel-clacking mess, the girl stomped out of the kitchen and slammed the front door to the house a few moments later.

I swallowed the tiny bit of jealousy that stung my insides--I did
not
envy the bunnies--I merely hated how they now had a piece of him I’d never had but fantasized about for years. It wrote my plaguing curiosity over what Gage would be like after dark and between his sheets, as nothing more than the crush I’d had on him since we were kids. Of course, those feelings had never left me, only grown stronger...but I credited it to the fact that outside of Jeannine and Paige, he was the best friend I’d ever had.

I slipped Lettie’s sunny-side-egg onto her plate next to the muffin, shoving my feelings down in the locked box where they had always been and would always remain. Gage hadn’t trusted another woman since Helen left, and I knew he’d never look at me as anything more than his best friend or his daughter’s nanny. And I adored Lettie, so crossing the professional line that was firmly in place wasn’t an option even if by some small chance he flirted with the idea. Which he didn’t.

I took Lettie’s plate and a sippy cup full of milk to her table. She quickly put her crayons in her prized black bucket with the Seattle Sharks logo on the front and scooted it to the side.

“Thank you,” she said while grabbing her tiny fork and stabbing at the egg greedily.

I kissed the top of her head and went back to the stove. Gage liked his eggs fried, so I put a few drops of olive oil in the skillet and cracked four of them open. Sipping on a glorious cup of black coffee, I tried to let the puck bunny’s
maid
assumption roll off my back, but after the hundredth occurrence, it had started to turn my stomach sour.

It was bad enough that my two best friends either ran a Fortune-five-hundred company or earned Michelin stars at her brand new restaurant. Now I had to deal with the puck-bunnies Gage brought home constantly mistaking me for nothing more than his maid?

I sighed and flipped his eggs over.

Screw that. I loved Lettie—she claimed my heart the first night she fell asleep on my chest when even Gage hadn’t been able to soothe her from the night terror she’d awoken from. And though taking care of her wasn’t my life’s ambition—I was still figuring out just what the hell I wanted to do—being her nanny was more rewarding than any
job
I’d
ever had, and now I had the perk of living with her. She was the coolest little girl on the planet and knowing I had her love was worth more than a six-figure paycheck, though Gage did pay me well, and probably more than the average rate.

We had history, and when his mom had decided she wanted to travel more—making it where she could no longer watch Lettie while Gage was traveling with the team—my mom had come to me with the job opening. And since I was still stuck checking the unemployed box on my life’s application, I jumped at the opportunity.

I supposed when I had something as precious as Lettie for a profession, it didn’t matter that the bimbo-bunnies thought I was just a servant in Gage Manner. I knew the truth.

“She gone?” Gage’s voice cut through my thoughts as he rounded the corner and I gripped the spatula a little harder.

Hot damn.
Why did he have to walk around shirtless eighty percent of the time he was home?

“Yes,” I snapped, unable to take my eyes off his broad chest or the thin, intricate black lettering tattooed on the top of his pec that detailed Lettie’s birth stats. Then I
had
to look down—because I was a masochist—at his carved abs and those damn V lines that were so defined I didn’t think he was fully human. The soft cotton gray sweats he wore hung off his hips, showing he was rocking them commando. My mouth watered and an ache wrenched in the pit of my stomach.

“You’re burning my eggs,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

I blinked and jolted when I saw a tiny bit of smoke coming from the pan. I quickly dragged the spatula across the pan and gave the eggs a fast stir. “You’re having scrambled today.”

“Put them on top of a piece of toast for me, please?” He flashed the same damn grin that had gotten me to keep a stray kitten he’d found when we were kids, one
he
couldn’t take care because his mom was allergic. The same grin that had convinced me to sign off on traveling with him to every game this year, toting Lettie along too. He was lucky his love for her made him endearing, because his other
dominate
qualities—like screwing everything that moved and taking everything but a firstborn sacrifice to earn his trust—were not.

Gage dropped to his knees next to Lettie, who had cleaned her plate and returned to coloring somewhere between my anger at the bunny and my embarrassment over ogling Gage. My growing curiosity about how he was in bed amplified—hell, I’d heard dozens of women scream from his room even when mine was an entire floor below his—but I couldn’t let these thoughts get out of hand. I couldn’t let my innocent crush start to turn into anything more serious.

To be honest, it hadn’t been an innocent crush since I started working for him six months ago, but living here now? Ugh.

I blamed his incredible body and those damned blue eyes that resembled the deepest part of the ocean on the brightest, sunniest day.

“Aren’t her puppies gorgeous?” I asked as he eyed the work she focused on so intently.

“That is the most beautiful puppy picture I’ve ever seen.” He kissed her cheek and tickled her neck throwing her into a fit of giggles.

I fixed his plate and poured him a cup of coffee, doctoring it just the way he liked. Cooking for him wasn’t part of my job description but we’d fallen into an easy habit since I started, and it didn’t bother me. Getting to live as a working piece of furniture in his five-star life was as close as I’d get to where my friends, Paige and Jeannine, had already established themselves.

“Bailey knows great art when she sees it,” Gage said, releasing Lettie from the hug he had her in and taking a seat at the island.

I smiled and set his plate down in front of him.

“Too bad she’s never done anything about it,” he added before taking a massive bite.

I scowled at him and jerked his plate back, taking it to the other side of the kitchen where I leaned against the counter. I took a bite and gave him a
screw you
look.

He raised his hands in defense. “What? Who majors in Philosophy when all they want to do is paint?”

“There is plenty of philosophy in art,” I said, “and you know why I did. Mom said Art would never take me anywhere.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Art
and
philosophy are amazing. Please teach them both to my daughter. Now, give me back my eggs.”

I chuckled and returned his plate to him, minus another bite.

He shook his head, his thick black hair still wet from the shower he’d taken this morning. The man had a routine, and I was privy to nearly all of its time slots. Including pre and post one-night stands. It made me sad for some reason, seeing him take no effort to find a woman who actually deserved him.

“This morning’s bunny was a real treat,” I said, holding my coffee mug up and taking a drink.

He glanced over his shoulder at Lettie, still engrossed in her coloring, before returning his focus to me. “I meant to have her out of here before Lettie woke up, but she’s up early. Did the girl say anything in front of her I need to feel guilty over?”

I sighed and shook my head. “No. Just to me. I’m used to it though.”

He tilted his head.

“Not important.”

He set his toast down and wiped his hands on a napkin. “If they’re saying hurtful things to you I’ll stop bringing them to the house.”

Warmth fluttered in my chest.
He’d do that for me?
“That’s ridiculous. This is your house. Honestly, it’s not a big deal.”

“Anything that makes you uncomfortable is. I thought you were cool with it, but if you’re not, I’ll find other means.”

“Why would you care that much?”

He pushed back from the island and came over to me, stopping an inch or so away. “You take care of my daughter when I can’t,” he lowered his voice, I assumed so Lettie wouldn’t hear. “You’re as important to her as I am, and I can’t have anything drive you away…she’d be crushed.”

I swallowed the rock that had lodged itself in my throat. While I had no plans to leave Lettie soon, I knew I couldn’t be her nanny forever. All I’d ever wanted--besides maybe a gallery of my own--was a family someday, and while I loved this job, and Lettie, I would never make my own children feel like a second choice. Lucky for me, I had no man vying to put a ring on my finger, so the problem wasn’t a real threat yet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I’m just surprised you’ve kept up your old-school antics after having her. I mean, she’s your
daughter.
What if some boy treated her the way you treat women?” The question left my mouth before I had the chance to filter it through my brain. I clenched my eyes shut, knowing I crossed the employee/employer line, but damn, we’d been friends long before he’d hired me.

He was the guy I’d spent every summer with, relaxing at his parent’s cottage, sneaking the horses out of their stalls for midnight rides. Sure, we’d lost touch when I went to Cornell and he went to UDub, but it didn’t dull the fact that I
knew
him, and that he deserved more than the string of meaningless sex he’d fallen into.

When I opened my eyes again he was a statue before me, locked in faraway thoughts. I hated that I’d put them there, hated that I’d just made him question if he was raising his daughter properly. He was a damn good man and an even better father. He’d demanded to keep Lettie when her mother had decided to run off with another NHL player after she was born. That same season Gage had been benched when he’d broken his collar bone and torn his rotator cuff, but it hadn’t stopped him from soothing night terrors or diaper changes. Besides, it wasn’t like Helen had been much help when she’d actually been around.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it like that. You were right. The bunny ruffled me is all.”

Gage stood so close I could feel the heat coming off his skin. I battled the urge to reach out and touch it, just to see if the muscles underneath it felt as hard as they looked. If he’d just wear a damn shirt once in awhile I wouldn’t be so flustered. That or maybe if I ever had a conquest of my own, but caring for a three-year-old full time didn’t give me a ton of opportunities to hunt one down.

“It’s fine,” he finally said and stepped backward. “I’ll try and do better.”

“That’s not what I meant. Gage, you’re—”