Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“He sounds like a good fit,” I agreed, giving Riley a moment to catch his breath.
“Absolutely! I don’t know how long he’s in town, but would you mind giving him a call and maybe offering to show him a house or two for rent?” Riley shot a pleading glance my way. “Sorry to dump this on you at the last minute. I’m just…”
“Desperate?” Vinnie supplied.
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Why I agreed to be Elmwood High’s athletic director is a mystery. I need to pass this gig off to someone else, stat. It’s too stressful,” he griped, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Riley had taken on a bigger project than he’d probably bargained for when he’d spearheaded the mission to build a high school in Elmwood…with a world class athletic program. After years of planning, construction, and a hiring boom, school was in session. But it hadn’t all gone smoothly.
According to my friends, the first year had been a comedy of errors in almost every department. They’d needed more qualified teachers to meet the demand of enrollment, which meant they’d had to recruit from neighboring towns or even out of state.
I admired Riley’s dedication and if there was any way I could assist, I certainly would.
I smiled kindly. “I’m happy to help. Tell me about him.”
“Okay. Uh, well, he’s from Detroit and—shit—I mean…shoot. You know him!”
“I do?” I raised my coffee cup to my mouth.
“Yeah, the D-man Jake punched on his final game of last season.” Riley smacked the counter and grinned. “Smitty Paluchek.”
I promptly sprayed the counter with java and lapsed into a coughing jag.
Vinnie patted my back. “You okay, man?”
“I’m”—cough, cough—“I’m fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.”
What the fuck?
Smitty. Here?
I curbed the impulse to look over my shoulder, half expecting him to waltz through the door. I couldn’t believe he was in my town. I mean…not my town, but—he wasn’t supposed to be here. He’d said he took a different job and we’d agreed our paths would never cross again. We’d made a deal. Sort of.
I took a slow, deep breath, nodding at whatever Riley was saying. Smitty was great with teens, Smitty was smart, and what he lacked in practical experience he made up for in grit. Smitty would put Elmwood High’s hockey team on the map. We needed him.
Riley leaned in. “Look, I know he might not be Jake’s favorite player, but Smitty is fu-amazing. We’d be lucky to land him…if he agrees. I know he has other options, so the only way to sway him is to show him how awesome this town is. You’re the best man for the job.”
I dabbed the corner of my eye with a napkin. “Right. Okay. Um, I’m just surprised. I thought he turned you down.”
“He did. But I gave it one more shot, and he’s here.”
“Here.”
“Yeah, he’s staying at the Black Horse Inn.” Riley pulled out his cell and typed a message. “I’m forwarding Smitty’s contact info now. If you have time today and wouldn’t mind meeting up this afternoon for a beer or coffee to get an idea about what he’s looking for, that would be…incredible.”
“Uh…okay.”
“Thank you.” He sighed, flashing a relieved grin. “I owe you big-time, man.”
Yeah, he did.
More than he knew.
It had taken weeks to shake that man out of my system. Weeks. I’d chalked it up to a combination of loneliness and the best sex I’d had in years. Maybe ever.
I’d felt like myself with Smitty. My real self—not someone’s father, son, brother, neighbor, or reliable buddy. In that one night, I was the old me who’d known how to let loose and have a good time without second-guessing. Of course, the old me used to get in a lot of trouble, so maybe I should have been wary all along.
Whatever. It had happened, and even though I’d woken up the next morning with a hangover from hell and a sore ass, I’d had no regrets, because no one would ever know. That night was mine. And our paths weren’t supposed to cross again.
But now he was here.
Fuck.
Listen, I didn’t think Smitty would roll into town and blab to everyone he met that Jake’s dad and their dependable real estate agent was a damn ho who’d nearly cleaned his tonsils out in a hotel hallway before propositioning him for a good time…no clothes required. I just didn’t like that he was in Elmwood.
The prospect of seeing Smitty—possibly even today—rattled me. I could barely choke down my scramble. If Jean-Claude happened to pop in from the kitchen to say hello to his husband, he’d notice and ask a dozen questions I couldn’t answer. Thankfully, he stayed put.
I left half my breakfast and more money on the counter than necessary, then said my good-byes.
I hurried out of the diner and pulled my cell out with shaky fingers.