Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
A cute little old lady named Mrs. O’Neill, who Denny later told me was his grandmother’s nemesis, was a bit suspicious, though.
“Mr. Cunningham, we’re worried about you,” she’d said in a warbly voice. “I heard you’re putting in a Starbucks in Wood Hollow.”
I’d shaken my head. “No, that’s incorrect. I don’t have anything to do with Starbucks. We’re a family-owned business and—”
“Maybe it was a McDonald’s,” Mrs. O’Neill had insisted. “They have nice french fries, but nothing like the ones we have at the diner. Now, in my day, we—”
“For cryin’ out loud, Kath, don’t get your panties in a twist, we’re not getting a damn fast-food joint.” Annie had rounded the bakery counter. “Leave him alone, and no cutting in line.”
I was pretty sure I’d heard an indignant, “Well, I never!”
By June, I didn’t feel like a pariah in Elmwood anymore. People said hello, asked about the horses, and talked about hockey…nonstop.
“Prepare to be amazed,” Nolan had warned me. “The coaches and kids will start trickling in next week for hockey camp. The week after that is the beginning of summertime madness.”
“It’s true,” JC had chimed in. “Hockey players everywhere. They eat a lot…good for business, oui?”
Denny had simply nodded while I’d asked a dozen questions, genuinely interested in the town’s hockey fever. It was another world to me, and it felt kind of special to be on the inside…like I belonged here.
With him.
No, no. That was crazy talk. Elmwood might like me all right, but they wouldn’t understand Denny and me. And any attempt to explain would only make me look bad. As in…terrible human being status.
Denny was a young, hot star exploring his sexuality, but I was an opportunist using him to make our brand palatable to locals. I mean…hey, they say the truth will set you free. But in this case, it would only fuck things up for me.
If Denny told me tomorrow that this was over, and he didn’t want to be my friend and that he’d do his bi exploration on his own, it wouldn’t be a matter of simply moving on to Plan B for me. I was hooked on him. For myself…not the mill. In fact, I barely thought about the mill when I was with him and honestly, that would probably bite me in the ass at some point.
But that was a worry for another night. Tonight, he was quiet. Like the other night when he’d come over, agitated and wild-eyed. I’d made him something to eat and talked about fuck knew what till he seemed calm again. I hadn’t asked what was on his mind, but I had a feeling it was still eating away at him.
I figured I’d let Bess work her magic tonight.
We took the horses on the trail leading to the water’s edge. I guided us to a clearing and dismounted, loosely tying the reins to a low-hanging branch before sitting on a huge tree stump overlooking the creek. Water babbled gently over the rocks. Farther along, the current picked up where the creek widened, and on some days, it was downright noisy. But here…it was a pleasant, melodic sound in an idyllic forest setting.
Denny stretched his arms as he breathed in the fresh evening air.
“It’s beautiful here,” I said.
“Hmm. A good thinking spot.” He sat next to me on the stump, shoulders pressed against mine.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure ’cause—”
“My agent says New York wants me,” he blurted.
“Whoa! Really?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’d be willing to leave Denver?”
“According to my agent, it’s more money than a sane person would turn down. Besides, Denver isn’t home anymore. My parents are gone and…I guess I’m thinking about them too. I had a panic attack the other day.” Denny gnawed his bottom lip. “I haven’t had one of those in a while. My head is just…too full. It always goes dark when I get overwhelmed and—sorry. First-world problems.”
“Talk to me, Den,” I cajoled. “I’m a good listener.”
“You are.” He smiled wanly. “I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot. I wonder what he’d think of all this.”
“He’d be proud, I bet,” I replied carefully.
“Maybe, but he didn’t know me as a hockey player. My life would be foreign to him.”
This was new ground…and a gift of sorts. This was Denny opening the vault.
I didn’t want to disturb the fragile thread, but when the silence stretched, I prodded gently. “How so?”
“My dad was a skier.”
“Yeah?”
“I was too. And I was pretty good.” Denny cast a cocky half smile my way. “It was our family sport and obviously, the mountains were in our backyard in Denver. I grew up in ski clubs, went to meets every weekend. I won awards and…it was cool ’cause it was something we had in common. Did Grams tell you her son was in the Olympics?”
“Your dad was an Olympic skier?”