From Fling to Ring: A Hockey Romance (The San Francisco Aftershocks)

Chapter 28

LUCY

“Nice to see you again,Mr. Brooks…” I say, handing him a bouquet of flowers.

I almost add since our first meeting at the hospital, but I figure I shouldn’t dredge all that up. The evening is young and I don’t want to watch Tyler and his dad go at it all night.

Why did I bring flowers? They’re my gift of choice when I’m invited to someone’s home for dinner, but for a man?

Not sure what else I might have brought him, though. Cigars? Brandy? Are those his sort of thing?

Not surprisingly, he’s gracious, anyway. “Ruby! Flower assistance needed,” he bellows into the depths of his cute little house, then greets me with a bear hug. He’s adorable in his plaid shirt and jeans, and clunky dad sneakers.

Footsteps stomp down the stairs and Ruby rushes into the kitchen where Tyler and I follow his dad. She throws her arms around me. “Oh my God, Lucy. So good to see you.”

She pulls back and we both notice her wet hair left a big spot on my white blouse. “Oh shit. Sorry. Just got out of the shower. I am so running behind.”

She grabs the flowers from her dad and pulls a vase from a cabinet. “I’ll get these in a sec. Gotta dry my hair.”

“Hey, what about me?” Tyler asks.

“Hey, jerk,” she calls, and runs off.

“Love you too!” he hollers after her.

Mr. Brooks pulls open the fridge. “Can I get you a beer, Lucy?”

I’m usually a wine drinker but what the hell. “Sure. Whatcha got?”

“Only the best beer around.” He opens a can of Budweiser for me and takes a big swig out of his own.

“Dad, I brought wine, you know,” Tyler says, waving around the bottles he brought from home.

“I’m okay with this, Tyler. I really am.” It’s been so long since I held a can of beer in my hand. Reminds me of sneaking off in the woods in my high school years, trying to fit in the with street smart girls at my Catholic School.

Pretty sure I never pulled that off.

“Ty, don’t be a snob just because you’re a big deal athlete,” his dad says, patting him on the back and passing him his own Bud. “Speaking of which, my buddies and I watched the video of your last game. You’re looking good, Son, except for that assist that went to the other team.”

Not sure what that means, but guessing it’s not good.

Tyler laughs at the jab, not in the least offended. “Leave it to Dad to cut right to the chase.”

Mr. Brooks turns to me. “By the way, Lucy, I am not Mr. Brooks. I am Peter.” He throws me a stern look. “Unless you prefer Mr. Brooks.”

“Okay, let me think about that,” I say.

I don’t want to call Tyler’s father by his first name. It feels weird.

He stirs a couple steaming pots on the stove, then opens the oven to pull out a huge meatloaf.

I’m starting to feel like I just took a trip in a time machine.

“Dad. Not another meatloaf. You can’t turn up the class a little for company? Like maybe make your chicken parm or something?” Tyler says, shaking his head.

“There he goes again, Lucy, being a hotshot snob.” Mr. Brooks sets the meatloaf on a crusty homemade potholder and turns to me, hands on hips. “Now tell me. Is meatloaf one of the best meals on the planet or what?”

I nod enthusiastically. “It is. Truly.”

I actually do know some people who hate meatloaf. But lucky for me, I am not one of them. If I were, however, I’d choke some down anyway, just to make Mr. Brooks happy.

“You know, Dad, I can get you a chef so you don’t have to do stuff like this.”

Ruby bounces into the room. “Did you hear that, Dad? A chef. How cool would that be? What kind of stuff do they make, Ty? Surf and turf every day?”

“They make whatever you want.”

“Rubes, bring all this to the table, will ya? And Tyler, I don’t need a chef, or any other stranger in this house. I like making Mom’s dishes. It makes me feel like she’s not too far away.”

At that, silence falls over the room and dammit, I get a big damn lump in my throat.

Mr. Brooks leans toward me. “He’s also always bugging me about getting a cleaning lady. Offers to pay for it and everything, like his old man is in the poor house or somethin’.”

“Dad, have you looked around here?” Tyler asks.

Mr. Brooks shakes his head. “I keep this place perfectly clean. Maybe not as well as your mother might have, but it’s perfectly respectable.”

Tyler looks at me. “Lucy, if you use the restroom while you’re here, which I recommend against, just be careful. Very careful.”

The Brooks rib each other all through dinner, taking the time to give me background on their stories so I don’t feel left out, and I realize I’ve not felt so warmly embraced at a dinner table… maybe ever.

These people are the real thing.

Tyler Brooks is the real thing.

“So what’s your deal, Lucy?” Mr. Brooks asks, getting another round of Buds.

That we drink straight from the can.

I am in love with this family.

“I grew up here, went to Catholic school, continued the tradition at University of San Francisco, and now work at the SF Freekly.”

He scrunches his eyebrows. “Is that the paper I see all around the city in those newspaper boxes? The free one?”

I nod. “Exactly. Do you read it?”

Shit. I should not have asked that question. He is absolutely not our target market.

He gives me the so-so hand motion. “I did once. It’s not so much my thing, with the articles about bong shops and where to get assless leather chaps.”

I stifle a laugh. He is absolutely correct.

“Dad, they are called cannabis dispensaries. A bong is something you smoke it with.”

“Yeah, fine. I guess you’re the expert. Young people these days know all that stuff, but my age group? We just stick with beer. Although I did try the wacky weed once. One of my poker buddies found it in his kid’s dresser. Of course he confiscated it and brought it to us guys.”

“Dad, you don’t have to?—”

“Don’t worry, Ty. I’m not about to become a druggie from using marijuana once. Jesus, I feel like a bad kid getting in trouble.”

Tyler sighs with frustration, but the truth is, I can see he’s loving the family banter.

I know I am.

“So do you like your work there at the paper, Lucy? I imagine you write for them. You seem like a smart cookie.”

I nod. “I am a writer, yes. I cover… all sorts of topics for the paper, whatever my boss wants me to. Sometimes I come up with ideas of my own though.”

Like setting your son up as a dick-head fuckboy.

“Oh yeah? That’s sounds neat. What are you working on now?” he asks.

Everyone looks at me with great interest so I decide to do some entertaining. By the time I am done telling them about my dirty bathroom assignment, they’re rolling with laughter, and magically, the assignment doesn’t seem quite as bad as it did a minute ago.

“I have to hand it to you Lucy, you’re a good sport. That is one crappy job.” Mr. Brooks drops his head back and roars with laughter at his joke.

“Good one, Dad. You’re probably the first person to come up with that,” Tyler says.

Mr. Brooks continues to crack up and when he finally catches his breath, has to wipe tears from his eyes.

I’m ready to ask him to adopt me right now.

Ruby leans on the table with her elbows. “Dad, did Tyler tell you I helped him pick out a pretty dress at Saks for Lucy, for some fancy party they had to go to?”

Mr. Brooks’s eyes widen as he looks at Tyler. “Saks? You mean that fancy-pants place on Union Square? Can’t say I’ve ever been in there. Looks too nice for me. I pretty much stick to the Macy’s annual men’s sale and even then only go when I have one of those coupons they’re always giving out.”

Now it’s Tyler’s turn. “Dad, when have you ever been in Macy’s?”

Mr. Brooks leans toward him. “Son, you don’t know everything about me. I have all sorts of secrets.” At this, he bellows with more laughter and I swear, I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.

“I’m also working on a book,” I blurt out.

His eyes widen and he turns to Tyler. “Would you listen to that? You got yourself someone with big ambition here. And what kind of book are you writing, Lucy?”

Why did I open my big mouth?

“Um, well, it will be a sort of self-help book.”

“What kind of self-help book?” Ruby asks.

“I’m still… thinking it through. But you know, maybe something about relationships.” I steal a glance at Tyler, who’s looking right back at me with great interest.

Mr. Brooks slams his hand on the table. “I’ll tell ya what, Lucy, I promise to be first in line to read your book, whatever it’s about.”

“Well, thank you,” I say, excusing myself for the restroom before anyone sees me choke up.

My God, have I ever met such nice people? Pretty sure I haven’t.

When I return to the table, I help clear it in spite of everyone’s protests, and when it’s time for dessert, Tyler pulls a bag of cookies from his backpack and sets them on a plate.

Oh, right. The cookie mystery. I need to get to the bottom of this. How many men have a freezer stuffed top to bottom with cookies?

“Yum,” Ruby says, grabbing two snickerdoodles.

I sink my teeth into one, and the chewy deliciousness nearly makes me swoon. “My God, these are good. Tyler, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s with the cookies in your freezer?”

Everyone stops what they’re doing, and I have a horrible feeling I’ve done something wrong.

“How did you… oh, whatever. The cookies are… my mom’s recipes. I make them for fun.”

Ruby and Mr. Brooks look at each other, then go back to chowing like nothing ever happened.

Okay, there is definitely something going on here. But for now, I drop it.

As we’re leaving, Mr. Brooks pulls me into a big hug goodbye. “Next game, Lucy, you’ll sit in the family box with me and my buddies.”

“Really? I’d love to.”

Ruby hugs me too. “What Dad hasn’t told you is that they burp and fart all night long. So you might want to think hard about that invitation.”

Tyler shakes his head and we say goodnight. He throws an arm around my shoulder as we walk to the car.

“Holy crap, Tyler, you have the most normal family in the history of normal families. Do you think they might adopt me? Please?”

He laughs. “I’m sure they’d love to. But then you’d be my sister, and that would be weird.”

We’re at a stoplight and he leans over to kiss me. “See. I can’t do stuff like this if we’re related. So I’d prefer you remain a family friend rather than a family member.”

“I’ll take that. Family friend. It sounds great.”

Much better than I ever thought. And that’s beginning to be a problem.