Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(109)

“Ellie?”

I swallow hard and turn…

“James,” I whisper, shocked to the soles of my feet as I stare up into his face. He’s tall. Really, really tall.

Oh, my God.

It’s James. Bianca’s father. My Las Vegas one-night stand from thirteen years ago. He looks very much the same, only … at least a decade older.

Although I had my doubts when he contacted me, I know this man is her father. My memories might be fuzzy, but I would know him anywhere. Probably because Bianca looks so much like him it’s uncanny. She’s got my eyes—though hers are definitely more the color of his, an incredibly rich emerald green—and my dimpled chin, but she has his nose and cheekbones. And his thick eyebrows. She’s even got his ears.

He smiles warmly and my stomach plummets to my toes.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Come on. Sit down.”

I think I’m hyperventilating.

A gentle hand curls around my elbow and guides me to a table. James pulls out a chair and helps me into the seat.

“I’ll be right back.”

I lift my head and watch as he walks over to one of the restaurants. He buys a bottle of water and fills a cup with ice before returning. Without a word, he opens the bottle, pours water into the cup, and pushes it toward me. I’m not sure why it surprises me, but it does.

“Thank you.”

I take a sip. The cold does wonders to cool me down, so I sip more and then place my purse on the table and force a smile. “Sorry about that.”

His smile returns.

The man is incredibly attractive and looks almost exactly as I remember. The first thing I note is that he looks eerily similar to most of the men in my life. I tend to hang around hockey players, so I’m familiar with bumps, bruises, and scars marring their faces. This man’s face is clean-shaven and smooth, but yes, there’s the underlying evidence of some sort of action to his face at some point. Probably sports, if I had to guess. We actually met in a sports book, though neither of us was betting. I was watching a news report while I waited for my friends to join me. I don’t know what he’d been doing, but we did talk briefly about hockey. His dark hair, which is receding slightly in front, is styled in that unkempt way that seems to be popular. He’s ruggedly handsome, even with all his imperfections.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice smooth and deep.

“I am. You took me off guard a little.”

“I know the feeling.” He rests his arms on the table. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks for not letting me faint. It would’ve been embarrassing.”

The polite formality of our conversation makes me wish I’d asked him to come to the bar. At least that way Noelle could probably ease some of the tension.

“I have to admit I was a little surprised to hear from you.” That’s an understatement, actually.

His forehead creases slightly. “Why’s that?”

I glance down at my cup. “I didn’t know my daughter had posted that on Facebook.” I peer up at him. I don’t see any judgement in his eyes, so I continue. “I monitor her social media accounts, but apparently, the new thing is to have more than one. I didn’t know she’d done that. So your phone call was a shock.”

“Well, that definitely explains a few things.” His smile is once again warm and friendly.

“Like?”

“A friend of mine actually came across the post.” That wasn’t surprising; it had gone viral. “I thought he was crazy when he sent it to me. He was there with me that weekend, but I don’t think you met him. I think he sent it as a joke at first because the timeline happened to work out, but when I saw your picture, I immediately knew it was you. I wondered why you didn’t post it, why she did instead. With the Internet being what it is and all.”

That was a polite way of saying he had questioned my mothering abilities. In this situation, I can’t say I blame him. My daughter put the bar’s phone number out there for the world to have all in the hope of finding some stranger. It’s a wonder we didn’t receive random phone calls from people asking stupid things. Now that I think about it, we have received a few strange calls over the past month, but it’s a published number, so I thought nothing of it.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” I rush to say. “I tried. Honest to God, I tried.” I offer a small smile. “There are a lot of Jameses in the world.”

He laughs and some of the strain eases from my body.

“So what are our first steps?” he asks. “I’ll admit, I have absolutely no experience with this.” His smile turns sheepish. “I guess no one really does, though, huh?”

“No children?” I ask and realize I’m holding my breath as I wait for his answer.

“No,” he admits. “I was married once. That lasted about three years. We parted amicably. I’m fresh out of a rather serious relationship. Again, it ended on good terms.”

“All-around good guy?” I tease.

“That’s the way it works. Girls seem to want the bad boy and well … I don’t seem to have those qualities.” He cocks his head to the side. “Although, I do have the face.”

That makes me laugh.