Fatherhood blindsided me.
There I am, working to get a rise out of my cranky little rule-following, fun-wrecking, soon-to-be ex-neighbor when my one-night stand from last season shows up in labor.
Next thing, I'm a single-dad begging for a crash course in caring for this tiny miracle from the neighbor who loves to hate me.
Turns out, Nora raised half her siblings. She knows things.
And I know my son needs her.
Unfortunately, she's not impressed by my NHL career, my legendary charm, or the rumors surrounding the size of my stick (all true btw).
But I'm not trying to impress her. Not anymore. I can't.
I'm asking her to help me out, because my son deserves better than some player who hasn't even had a chance to read the manual yet.
Which means no matter how hot I find her spitfire mouth and those rules she doesn't break Nora is off-limits.