Rushing the Goal (Assassins #8)(11)

Yeah, she didn’t like him one bit. Her eyes narrowed as his gray eyes seemed to twinkle. She hadn’t been looked at like that in a while, and she honestly didn’t understand it. This guy didn’t even know her, yet he looked at her like they were friends. Maybe even more. She wasn’t sure.

Strange…

“Yeah, okay, I’ll make sure you don’t walk right if you hurt her. I’ll be watching from the stands,” she said, leaning down and kissing Angie’s temple. “Have fun, okay?” Angie smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She was nervous. “You okay, baby?”

“I wish Jayden was here,” she whispered and Lucy bent down.

“I know, but I’m sure replacement guy—”

“Benji,” he supplied, but there wasn’t annoyance in his voice. Humor, though. He found her funny. Which was annoying as hell.

“Benji,” she said slowly, enunciating each syllable just to be a bitch. He just laughed, a deep tenor that had her toes curling in the heels she wore. Clearing her throat, she said, “He will take good care of you.”

When he crouched down beside her, Lucy stared at him in confusion as he cupped Angie’s shoulder. Angie looked at him curiously, and Lucy glared. What was he doing?

“You know, I’m sure your uncle wouldn’t have asked me to pitch in if he didn’t think I would be great at helping you. I heard you’re the best little hockey player in the world and that you’re gonna show me some awesome moves,” he said sweetly.

Hell, Rick didn’t even talk to her like that and that dick was her dad.

Angie’s cheeks reddened and Lucy smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, so don’t worry. I know I’m not your uncle, but I’m excited to hit the ice with you, and I’ll do my best to help you out. I’m like your personal helper. I’m your trainer!” he said excitedly, and Lucy couldn’t help it, she smiled a little. Just a little.

“You are?” Angie asked and Lucy was surprised how shy her daughter was being. She had been so excited about this, but now, it didn’t seem that way.

“If you want to go home, we can, honey,” Lucy said, but Angie shook her head.

“No, I want to play.”

“Awesome, how about we go get ready real quick and hit the ice?” Benji asked softly, and Lucy glanced over at him, surprised. For a big dude, he was gentle. Which was nice. Standing back up, which meant he was towering over them, he held out his hand, and Angie took it without hesitation. That surprised Lucy. Angie wasn’t one to trust so easily, but she seemed happy as she waved at Lucy while they walked toward the group of other little girls.

When Benji looked back at Lucy and he grinned, she narrowed her eyes at him. Yeah, he was good with kids, she’d give him that, but there was something else in his eyes. Almost like he thought he had won some underlying competition that she hadn’t even realized she was in with him.

That bothered her.

Angie may trust him and Lucy’s ovaries may think it was hot that he was good with her daughter, but she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

And with his size, it wouldn’t be far.

So she’d watch Benji Paxton…and not because he had a hot ass in those Assassins sweats.

Good Lord, she needed to get laid.





Holy shit.

Sinclair’s sister was f*cking hot.

Looking back at her once more, he caught her watching him. When their eyes locked, he felt like he was really grinning. And not that awkward, fake, “I have no clue what I’m doing with my face” kind of grin, but a real one. It may have even reached his eyes. It was easy to do where she was concerned, it seemed, but she glared and then turned on those sexy nude heels before starting for the rink.

Well, then.

He watched her for a moment and saw her ass was encased in a snug black skirt that was so tight, he was sure she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She was wearing a thick purple jacket, and her brown hair was up in a twist, a little tattoo peeking out of the neck of her jacket. He wanted to get closer, check it out, but then he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from dropping his lips to that sexy, thin neck.

What in the hell?

What was wrong with him?

“Benji?”

Looking down at the miniature version of the spunky firecracker he just met, he smiled. “Sorry! Come on,” he said, hoping that Angie didn’t know he wanted to bang her mom. Wow, what? Good Lord, what was wrong with him?

Shaking his head free of his horndog thoughts, he brought Angie to where all the other little girls were getting ready. Parents were tying their kids’ skates and pulling jerseys down over their heads. Stopping for a second, he watched everyone, and then the slow, fiery ache started to burn in his chest.

He was supposed to be doing this with his daughter.

Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath and let the pain eat him alive. If he hadn’t been an ungrateful jerk and had chosen his family over alcohol, then Ava and Leary would be here. They would have had this moment.

He would feel loved.

He would feel complete.

Fuck.

Opening his eyes because he could feel his little friend staring at him, he found that he was right. Angie was watching him, her eyes full of concern as she nodded to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said roughly before kneeling down in front of her. She sat down as he opened her bag, pushing back his own tears. He really hadn’t thought this through when he agreed to come help. He hadn’t realized how hard this would be for him. That the pain of the loss of his child would shake him to the core like it was at the moment. It just wasn’t fair. Why did addiction ruin lives? Why couldn’t he have fought it? Damn it.