Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Why wait? So what if the spreadsheet isn’t ready? My folks like you, and they’ll listen. Sell the idea before you plug in numbers.”
I took his suggestion. It wasn’t a big deal. I’d always had a great relationship with the Hendersons and I wanted to keep it that way, but sleeping with their son practically every night put a new spin on things. At least it did for me.
So I plied his mom with tri-weekly drink surprises, hoping a complimentary cappuccino, espresso, latte, or hot chocolate would soften the awkwardness of owning the store next door to the guy who happily got naked with her son every night.
News flash: it was working.
I’d pop into Henderson’s Bakery, slide a drink across the counter and point to the cookie, cake, or slice of pie that would go best with the dessert. Maybe it was overkill, but Penny humored me. She’d take a bite and a sip, hum her approval, and launch into a subtle interrogation about Court and me. What did we do last night? Had we watched any good movies? Did we see the new light display on Washington Street?
I filled her in on our more PG holiday adventures—the sledding trip on Bonsai Hill in Fallbrook with the Bantam hockey team, helping the Mighty Mites make reindeer shirts for the Holiday Skate at the rink, volunteering for Holiday Bingo duty at Town Hall, shopping for Hanukkah and Christmas presents for friends…and wrapping them.
Penny had widened her eyes and shaken her head in wonder. “Court did that? With real wrapping paper? Amazing.”
I pushed open the bakery door and hurried to the counter, sliding a mint hot chocolate toward Penny. “Try this with your white chocolate peppermint cookies. You won’t be sorry.”
“Oh, thank you, honey. I—where are you going?” she asked as I raced to the exit.
“To the rink. The Mighty Mites are practicing, and I promised to watch.”
Her eyes sparked with mischief that reminded me of Court. “Have fun!”
She didn’t ask why I’d want to be there or if I thought I might be in the way, which I guessed meant that she knew that Court and I were more than just lovers. We’d become good friends.
And it was kind of amazing.
Maybe the truly amazing thing, though, was that in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere Vermont, my world had gotten a little bigger. There was a whole segment of Elmwood who, other than selling caffeine to, I’d done my best to ignore for years. But suddenly, I was part of the action.
I hung out with hockey players all the time now.
Reread that sentence. Shocker, but it was a true statement.
The night Court and I decorated the trees and talked about his job at the rink, the kids, and the coaches, his regrets about his own career, and what he’d learned was a game changer. He’d wanted me to meet the kids he coached, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
So I met the Mighty Mites and their parents. I met some of the Bantam kids too, and when practice was over, I stayed to watch Court play with Vinnie, Riley, and some of the juniors.
I did it once, then twice, and after the third time, it became something we did. Not every day, but often enough that the receptionist at the rink didn’t bat an eyelash if I happened to sashay through the door. Like now.
“Hi, Erica.”
The pretty brunet behind the desk widened her eyes and motioned toward a corner where Vinnie, Bryson, and Bryson’s son, Jake, were in a huddle with a big man with a booming voice and a smarmy smile.
“Shh. I’m trying to eavesdrop here,” she whispered.
“Who is that?”
“Gary McDermott.”
“Should I know him?” I asked.
“He’s a big-time agent. He’s been here all afternoon.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t know Jake was looking for an agent.”
Erica flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “He looks interested now, but I don’t think the agent was here for him. He was with Court until the Mighty Mites arrived for practice. There was a lot of hand-shaking going on, which makes me think he’s going to be Court’s agent now.”
My heart flipped and sank to the bottom of my stomach. That had to be Vinnie’s agent. “Oh. That would be…cool,” I replied automatically.
“Right? I’m so happy for him. I don’t know for sure, but you’ll get the scoop.” She leaned across the counter and continued in a low tone. “I can see it now…you and Court will be the next out and proud hockey couple.”
“I don’t know about that,” I hedged awkwardly.
“I do. The league has been shooting itself in the foot by not doing enough to show support for the LGBTQ community and now that Riley’s retired, they need a new queer ambassador. I bet Court’s it.”
“He doesn’t play in the NHL.”