Bottles & Blades (Eagles Hockey: Oak Ridge Vineyards #1)

Chapter 15

Fifteen

Tiff

“Make a turtle, Tiff!”

I smile up at Roxie as I pour the batter onto the griddle—it’s breakfast for dinner night—and I’m making pancakes.

In particular, my dad’s special pancakes.

They’re not really anything special; the batter is from one of those just add water mixes, only it’s made special because of the secret ingredient.

Melted salted butter.

It makes it effortless to flip them, to scoop them off the griddle.

But that’s not the only benefit.

The salted butter makes them taste deliciously homemade.

“Please?” Roxie says. “Pretty please?”

“Queen Rox,” Stefan begins as he walks into the room, shrugging on his jacket, “I need you to take a breath and show patience.”

“Mom says I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

My giggle bubbles up in my chest, but I don’t let it escape.

The last thing this precocious little munchkin needs is more ammunition.

Stefan isn’t so lucky. His chuckle escapes and I know that Roxie hears it too because her grin is wide as she runs over and hugs her dad around his waist…then shrieks when she’s scooped up and tossed over his tall shoulder.

Still built and strong…just not as much as Jean-Michel.

My stomach fills with butterflies and my first attempt at a turtle looks more like a giraffe, so I shove the thoughts of him down and focus.

Oval for a shell, four little stubby legs, a short, tiny tail.

I finish his little head with a flourish. “Whatcha think, Rox?”

She comes close, stepping up onto the stool that’s next to the stove, head tilting to the side as she studies my handiwork. Eventually, she says, “It’ll do.”

This time my giggle does escape, but since Stefan is laughing too—the sigh-filled laugh of the parent of a sassy child—I don’t worry too much about giving Rox anymore ammunition. “Glad to hear that,” I tease, waiting until the bubbles form and burst on the surface then carefully flipping my turtle-esque pancake over so the other side can cook.

“Homework, bub,” Stefan says and Roxie’s still young enough to enjoy her math sheet that’s mostly coloring paired with problems that give her the answer to the riddle, Why was six afraid of seven?

The answer being, Because seven, eight, nine .

And did I peek at her sheet and solve it earlier? I sure did.

Mostly because I’m a nerd.

But also because I love those types of puzzles.

“’Kay!” she says, hopping off the stool and running back over to the table.

“I’ll finish that up with her so you have less to do when I head to the game,” Stefan says, his face gentle as he comes to lean against the counter next to me.

“I’m happy to do it with her.”

“I know you are.” He tilts his head to the side, so much like Rox’s action from a few moments before that my belly fills with warmth. “You look tired,” he says quietly. “I can call someone if you need a break.”

“This is my job.”

That tilt holds. “Yeah, it’s your job, Tiff. But you’re family. If the hours you’re pulling are too much with your course load?—”

“They’re not.” God, I’m barely hanging on financially as it is. If I could somehow squeeze more hours out of my schedule to watch Rox I would.

He bumps his shoulder against mine. “I know you know we’ll make it work with your schedule, no matter what.”

“I know.” Same as I won’t take advantage of this man who’s seen me through more than a handful of tough spots. I pour the last of the batter on the griddle. “I just had a late night studying, is all.”

“Your parents?”

I sigh. “Same old. My mom is her bitter, crotchety self, but I can’t get mad at her because her brain isn’t working right. And Dad needed a new medication that I had to go around and around with his insurance to get. You know how it is”—we met in a support group I worked for after he had a health scare not long ago, so when he nods, I know he gets it, has lived the dance between insurance companies and doctors and patient—“and all of that meant I had a late night and an early morning.” I scoop Roxie’s pancakes onto a plate, the rest onto a plate for Stefan, passing both over to him. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch up on sleep tonight and my homework tomorrow.”

He studies me for long enough that I start to get tetchy.

Then he shakes his head ruefully, bumps my shoulder again. “You’ll let me know if that changes?”

I nod. “Of course.”

A sigh. “Or, let me amend, you’ll at least tell me while your head is still above water and not when you’re drowning?”

My stomach clenches.

Because I’m always drowning.

I just manage to make it to the surface to suck in a breath of air before sinking down beneath the surface again.

“I will.”

His eyes tell me he doesn’t completely believe me, but, thankfully, he lets it go.

“Leave the dishes,” he says. “And eat with us.”

“I had a protein bar not that long ago. I’m not hungry,” I lie. Well, not about the protein bar. I did eat one. I snagged it from the cafeteria earlier in between classes and finishing homework and cramming for my quiz. I just ate it about six hours ago.

He looks like he’s going to protest, but then he just shakes his head, moves to the table, starts in on his pancakes, and says, “I’m surrounded by stubborn women.”

“You love it,” I hear, and I know it’s Brit coming, even if I hadn’t recognized her voice, because his face changes, softens.

It’s beautiful.

I turn, watch her face do the same thing as she sweeps into the room, her lithe, muscular body clad in a suit that accentuates her strength and the seriousness with which she takes her job. She moves to Stefan, presses a kiss to his lips, then turns to Roxie and ruffles her hair. “Whatcha doing, Queen Rox?”

“Homework. Look!” Roxie holds up her homework. “I got the answer, Mom.”

Brit scans the paper. “You sure did, peanut.”

A scowl. “I’m not a peanut.”

“Just my peanut.” Another ruffle. “Now, I’m out of here, pumpkin. I’ll see you in the morning when you wake up.”

“Will you wave at me on TV?”

“I sure will. Remember our sign?”

“Two squirts from your water bottle.”

“That’s it.” She kisses the top of Roxie’s head. Then she’s moving toward me, slipping her arm around my waist and leaning close, her words hushed. “Early to bed for her—and for you, if you want to crash in the guest room and catch up on your sleep,” she adds.

“Do I look that tired?” I rest my head against her shoulder for a moment then turn and smile up at her.

She touches the spot beneath one of my eyes in answer. “Any darker and you can play a zombie for Halloween.” A squeeze before she lets me go. “Just take it easy, okay?”

“Okay.”

Then she’s moving over to Stefan again, kissing his cheek and telling him she’ll see him after the game.

A moment later, she’s out the door.

And an hour after that, Stefan follows.

Then it’s Roxie and me for the next couple of hours.

We finish homework, play Monopoly for far too long, and then we’re turning on the game, watching for Brit to squirt her bottle twice onto the ice, and spotting it toward the end of the second period.

Which is my sign to turn off the game at intermission and get Roxie in bed.

She doesn’t protest much, which tells me that she’s running on fumes (because if Roxie has anything, it’s the ability to protest), and she’s out moments after her bath and teeth brushing and book reading.

I smooth my hand over her hair then slip from her room, closing the door behind me and watching the rest of the game.

Brit leads the team to a win, as she often does, and Stefan comes home earlier than expected, offering up the guest room again.

“Thanks,” I murmur as he walks me out to my car, “but I really just want to sleep in my own bed.”

“Text me when you get home so I know you did it safely.”

“Okay, Stefan. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

He hugs me then tugs open the driver’s side door. “You’re welcome any time.”

“I know,” I say as I climb in.

Then I’m driving home, my stomach gnawing at me in hunger, but the fatigue growing heavier with each passing moment.

I park, grab my stuff, and climb the stairs to my apartment, thumbing out a text to Stefan letting him know I made it home as I go.

STEFAN: Get some rest, kiddo.

Smiling, I shove it away.

But that smile fades because as I reach the top of the stairs, and I realize that Jean-Michel never sent me the code.

And a moment later, I realize why.

Because he’s standing right outside my door.