7. Devon
7
DEVON
My mother was at it again.
When I showed up tonight to dinner, I thought she had invited some colleagues over, so I dressed up a little in a nice pair of pants and a button-down. I liked to look good and took pride in doing so.
Earlier, as I was parking my truck around the side of the garage to make room for others, I thought it was odd that no one else was here yet. Then again, maybe my mom wanted help with the food and asked me to come earlier to do so. It wasn’t unheard of but also not overly common. I went with the flow and helped chop vegetables for the salad, while she put the finishing touches on the roast and potatoes she had made as well as the glazed carrots.
When the table was finally set and filled with food, I noticed only four place settings which led me to one conclusion: she was setting me up with someone. Again.
Dread curled in my stomach. I didn’t want to be part of some match my mom concocted. I was old enough to get my own dates. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t the best at doing so, but I could do it.
Five minutes later, I had the answer to the question of who the mystery person was. With my mom, I could never be sure. She knew I didn’t have a preference as to who I dated. Man, woman, transgender, I honestly didn’t care. I was attracted to the person, not the identity. But damn if I didn’t worry this evening would go sideways.
Then he was there—Lincoln. The man I made a fool out of myself in front of. The man I was so drawn to I didn’t know how to handle it.
What did I do when I saw him? Dropped my gaze right to the hardwood floor. Of course. My confidence flew out the window the second my eyes landed on him. And by the sound of surprise in his tone, I didn’t think Lincoln knew what he was agreeing to when he said yes to coming to dinner.
“Nice to see you again, Devon.” His voice had just enough of a rough edge to the timbre it had me wanting to melt to the floor. It was like my own personal kryptonite.
I finally grew a pair and lifted my gaze to his. “It’s nice to see you too.” What I wanted to say was, “It’s okay that you never texted me back. It’s fine. Really. I’m not still thinking about it at all.” If only.
When I glanced over to my mom, she had a big grin on her face. I quirked an eyebrow in her direction. I might be shy and awkward talking to Lincoln, but I didn’t have that problem with my family.
“What?” she asked like she was innocent.
“Got something you’d like to confess to?”
My mom was a horrible actress. She didn’t even try to lie. “You two seem to get along and you both live alone. I thought maybe a nice, home-cooked meal would do you some good. And since neither Linc or myself is working tonight and you don’t have a game, I figured I’d feed some of my favorite men.”
My dad chose that moment to walk into the room. He wrapped his arm around my mom’s waist from behind. They were never ones to shy away from affection, but they didn’t feel each other up in my presence either, which I was eternally grateful for. “How many favorite men do you have?”
She chuckled and patted his arm at her waist. “Shush, you.”
I was about to say something else when Lincoln cut in. “A home-cooked meal sounds great.”
“I thought you might say that.” She winked.
He smiled and, fuck me, it was making me hot. It was this slightly lopsided smile, one side of his mouth hitching up just a tad higher than the other. It was charming and endearing. It was also working on a certain part of my body more than others.
I cleared my throat, hoping to somehow draw blood back north to my brain so I could form a coherent thought, other than wanting to drop to my knees for Lincoln and have him smile like that down at me while he threaded his fingers into my hair. Okay, this was not helping. I was in my parents’ home. With them in the room. I needed to get my focus back on what was in front of me, not my fantasies.
Taking my throat clearing as something else, my mom decided to put the back of her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling okay? Is your throat bothering you?” I’d be embarrassed of her treating me like a child, but I’d gotten over that years ago, especially when I saw her treat my friends the same way.
I swatted her hand away while my dad silently laughed behind her. He wasn’t as oblivious as she was. “I’m fine. It’s just dry in here.” It was winter, the heat was on. It was plausible.
She was studying me, no doubt looking for symptoms I was unwell. “You’re always traveling, always on ice, even if you are sweating under your gear. Who knows what kind of germs you could catch?”
“Seriously, Mom. I’m okay. Can we eat now?”
That startled her into gear. “Oh, yes! Let’s do that before dinner gets cold.” She and my dad walked to the dining room.
I shook my head. Somebody save me from my meddling mother.
Lincoln chuckled beside me, causing me to look over at him. He held up his hands. “She knows I haven’t had a good home-cooked meal since I was home in Massachusetts.”
“I’m sorry about…” I waved my hand in the air, “this.”
“She means well.” Lincoln shrugged.
“This isn’t the first time she’s tried setting me up.”
He cocked his head slightly. “She does it often?”
“Not on the regular, but it’s not a new thing for her.”
“No luck?”
Now it was time for me to quirk my eyebrow at him. If I had any luck in the past, I wouldn’t have asked him out. And in this moment, I was torn between being grateful I was still single and wishing I had found someone to rescue me from this embarrassing interaction.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, I get it,” he said. “We’re both here. Let’s go eat before she comes back to get us.”
“Thanks for being a good sport about it.”
“I really don’t mind having dinner with your family. I have lunch with your mom almost every day.”
I followed him to the dining room, not sure what else to say.
My mom was bringing fresh rolls into the room while my dad sat in the seat next to the head of the table. My mom always sat at the head. She said it was so she could keep an eye on me and my dad at the same time. We were known for getting wrapped up in conversations and forgetting to finish our meals. She was always there with a gentle reminder to eat and talk after.
Tonight was different. Not only because it was a setup for Lincoln and me, but because this was Lincoln. A guy I asked out and got turned down by. There would be no getting into long conversations with Dad. Not tonight when I was so worried I’d say or do something to make myself look foolish. If anything, I wanted to impress him now that he was here. To show him that taking a chance on me would be worth it.
Desperate, party of one.
Except I was only desperate when it came to Lincoln, who seemed to trigger every one of my senses and send me into a tailspin.
Lucky for me, when my dad realized I clammed up, he started talking with Lincoln and my mom joined in. I sat and ate. Absorbed the words Lincoln said since I was getting to know him better, even if I wasn’t participating.
“Dev, why was Leslie in the news again?” Mom asked, pulling my attention to her. Lincoln and Dad’s conversation seemed to have died down.
“When?” I asked.
It wasn’t uncommon for Leslie Knoxton to have the media all over him. He’s our goalie and an amazing one at that; however, he didn’t shy away from fights. He was usually good during a game. But other teams knew how to get under his skin, causing fists to fly occasionally. Off the ice, when he was out in bars or wherever, he threw down like it was his second job.
People loved to make fun of him because of his name. They knew it irritated the shit out of him when they did it.
“I saw something online before I started dinner.”
I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face. I was going to have to call him after I was done here. “I’ll reach out to him later.” I wouldn’t be the first to get to him. I was sure Coach and maybe even Kasper would already have said something.
Kasper, while the team owner, wasn’t someone who was hands-off. He liked to be involved with all aspects of the Jetties. He wasn’t overbearing and didn’t micromanage. He was invested. He genuinely cared about everyone who worked under him.
“Do you have to do that a lot?” Lincoln asked me.
I turned toward him and found it easier to speak to him since this was a subject I knew well. “With Leslie? Yeah. He likes to talk with his fists.”
“Does he listen to you?”
“Sometimes. As captain, I’m involved in things more than other players. Leslie getting in trouble means I get involved to find out what’s going on, seeing what I can do to diffuse the situation. Sometimes I can get more information out of him than others. He knows it doesn’t look good for the team if he’s out there brawling all the time. I worry Coach and the GM are going to reach the end of their rope with him soon.”
“Leslie’s a good man,” Mom added.
“He is. He’s a hell of a goalie too. We need him. He’s gotta stay focused and out of the damn bars and news.” I did need to get to the root of his issues. It wasn’t just over his name. And I knew alcohol came into play. He didn’t drink all the time, but when he did, it caused him to be even more argumentative. Something was going on with him though.
My mom patted my arm. “You’ll get it worked out.”
“I hope.”
My dad asked me something about the game last night and then I was fully out of my shell and in my element talking about hockey. I felt good, calm. Not nervous and unsure like I was when Lincoln first got here.
After dinner and dessert, Mom tried to get us to stay longer. I was sure she saw how relaxed I was. By the end of the evening I was smiling more. But that didn’t mean anything was going to happen with Lincoln and me. Not that I didn’t want it to. I did. More than anything. Tonight showed me I could be normal around him. At least some of the time.
Lincoln and I both pulled our coats on and said goodnight. I gave my mom a kiss on the cheek before stepping outside, only to find Lincoln watching me with a soft smile as the door shut. I couldn’t stop the blush from rising up my cheeks. I dropped my gaze and shrugged.
We stood there awkwardly for a second. I found a fascinating pebble on the walkway to toe around with my shoe. And just like that, I was right back to being shy.
What I wanted to do was ask him out again. See if he’d give us a chance. We got along well enough. We were able to laugh and joke a little. But I couldn’t seem to get my tongue to cooperate and let the words leave my lips.
Instead, I looked up and thumbed toward my truck. “I should go.” I didn’t have to. I just didn’t know what else to say.
“Me too. I have to be at work early tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry about my mom. I’d like to say she won’t do that again, but considering how well we got along tonight, I can pretty much assure you she won’t give up yet.”
“It’s okay. Her heart’s in the right place, but listen, Dev—”
I held up my hand to stop him. I knew where this was going. “I get it.” I was about to say more. That friends were all we’d ever be, but I held back. I didn’t want to be just friends with him. I wanted more and had a feeling, if given the chance, we could be really good together.
That didn’t mean I wouldn’t ask him out again. I would, but I’d give him some breathing room first. I was leaving tomorrow. Another state. Another game. I’d focus on winning. Maybe when I got home, I’d try again with him.