The Goal

But the most important guests are my two girls. Jamie’s strapped to my chest in a BabyBjorn, wearing a custom-made pink onesie that reads “Tucker’s Bar” in gold glitter.

Sabrina is beside me, dressed a little less fancy in faded jeans and a tight green sweater. Her full tits are nearly pouring out of the deep V-neckline, and every time I glance her way my dick turns to granite. I almost wish she was still moaning about the baby weight she’s carrying and refusing to let me touch her, because even though she doesn’t have her pre-baby body back, I’m horny twenty-four/seven.

“Hitting the head,” Logan says. “BRB.”

As he disappears into the crowd, Garrett sweeps his gaze over the packed bar. “I can’t believe how well the renovations turned out,” he marvels.

I look around, trying to see the room through his eyes. After I’d completely restored the wood paneling and exposed beams, I went on a hunt for sports memorabilia to hang on the gleaming walls. This isn’t technically a sports bar, but hey, I’m a hockey player. I can’t not have framed photos of athletes in my bar.

And it helps to have friends in high places. Garrett got me signed jerseys from several of his new teammates—many of whom are here tonight. One of the chicks by the pool table wasted no time blasting it on social media, and within an hour of opening my doors, I had people lining up to get in, hoping to land an autograph or chat up the professional hockey players.

The groupies, however, have been surprisingly unobtrusive, letting Garrett’s teammates drink in peace without harassing them too much. I appreciate that, because the vibe I’m going for is “neighborhood bar.” A place where people can come after work (or hockey practice) and just relax. Somewhere that’s not too loud and not too rowdy.

So far, it’s exactly what I wanted it to be.

“Thanks for all your help,” I tell Garrett, who shrugs off my gratitude. He deserves it, though. He gave up way too many days off to come here and help me rip up flooring and gut the bathrooms.

“You too,” I say to Fitzy, who drove to Boston every weekend after I bought the bar, crashing on the floor of Jamie’s nursery and waking up at ungodly hours to help me out.

I hired people to do the jobs that my friends and I couldn’t do ourselves. Staffed the place too, since I have no interest in tending bar unless I have to; management is more my thing. Samira and Zeke, the two bartenders working tonight, are awesome. They already bicker like an old married couple and this is only their first night working here.

“It was fun,” Fitzy grunts before taking a sip of his Coors.

“Dude,” Dean says, coming up to slap Fitz on the shoulder. “That was a hell of a game last weekend. You guys crushed Yale.”

Fitzy frowns. “You saw it in New York? I didn’t realize it was televised.”

“Naah, someone was live-tweeting it. I was tracking his posts.”

So was I, actually. I’d wanted to drive out to Briar to watch it live, but Jamie had been fussy the night before, and Sabrina and I were wiped. The team’s kicking ass this season, though. Last year’s shitty record is all but forgotten now that Briar is on a five-game winning streak.

“Hunter scored a total beauty in the third,” Hollis says from his stool. “I almost came in my pants.”

“Don’t be crude in front of the baby,” I say immediately.

“Bro, you brought a baby to a bar. Go throw glass stones in your own house.” When everyone snickers, Hollis is visibly confused. “What?”

“That’s not the phrase,” Hannah says helpfully.

“Sure it is.”

“It’s really not.”

Hollis waves a hand. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

She sighs and wanders off to the booth where Allie, Hope, Carin and Grace are sitting. “You coming?” she asks Sabrina over her shoulder.

“Yup.” My woman glances at me. “Want me to take her?”

“No way,” Dean says instantly. “You can’t take her away from us! She’s barely spent any time with her uncles!” He plucks Jamie out of the BabyBjorn and snuggles her up against his chest. “Give your Uncle Dean a kiss, princess.”

Sabrina rolls her eyes as Dean presses our daughter’s mouth to his cheek and proceeds to make kissing noises as if she’s actually smacking him a good one.

“I’ll be over there with the normal people,” Sabrina says dryly, then heads for the girls’ booth.

My friends pass Jamie around amongst themselves until eventually she ends up in Fitzy’s arms. Since he’s wearing a T-shirt, his tattoos are fully visible, and for some reason they fascinate the baby. Every time he holds her, she stares wide-eyed at the tats and forms an O with her red rosebud mouth.

“Jesus, that’s one cute kid,” Garrett says, shaking his head.

Logan returns from the bathroom to hear Garrett’s remark. “Right? I swear, I was so fucking worried he’d end up with an ugly baby and then I’d have to fake it. Day before I met her, I was practicing ‘Awwwwww! She’s so cute!’ for an hour in the mirror.”

I flip him off.

“It’s true—ask Gracie. And relax, man. I didn’t have to lie, did I? She’s fucking precious.”

“Tuck’s got magic sperm,” Dean agrees.

Hollis snorts. “No, Tuck’s got a smokin’ hot baby mama. Genes, bro.”

“Speaking of the baby mama…” Dean cocks a brow at me.

I frown. “What about her?”

“You two officially together or what?”

“We live together,” is all I can think to say.

“Okay. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

My gaze strays across the room. Sabrina is laughing hysterically at something Hope just said. With her bottomless dark eyes and flawless face, she’s hands-down the hottest woman in this bar. I fucking ache for her. And yeah, I love her. So much it hurts.

But damned if I’m going to say it again after she totally brushed it off the night she delivered Jamie.

“We’re together,” I finally say. “Is it serious?” I shrug. “I want it to be. But I’m following her lead.”

Dean wears a troubled expression, but he doesn’t say anything more on the subject. Instead, he changes it completely, turning to grin at Fitzy. “Hey, I keep forgetting to text you, but I should probably give you a heads up about something.”