Spencer #3
“We’re good. Your dad bought a new lawnmower. He’s been out the back all day, tinkering with it.”
“Why’s he tinkering if it’s new?”
“Oh, come on, you know your dad. It’s new to him.
To everyone else it’s a twenty-year-old pile of rust.” She sighed dramatically and added, “But he’s decided it’s a classic and worth lovingly restoring.
” Her voice was filled with sarcasm. She may think he was ridiculous, but she would be the first person to send photos of the restored mower with a “look what your dad did!” caption.
Hannah giggled, and I laughed and responded, “Some things never change.”
“They don’t. Now, who is this sweet two-year-old that I can hear, and why is feeding them an emergency?”
“Hannah is our girlfriend’s daughter,” I said, pausing for a second and weighing up that word.
Girlfriend. I liked it. I had no idea whether Keeley thought of herself that way too, but it’s what Bray and I wanted.
Hell, we wanted more than that, but for now an exclusive boyfriends-and-girlfriend situation would do nicely.
“Keels stayed the night, and she and Bray are still crashed out. Bray got a concussion in last night’s game, so we were up and down last night, checking on him.
Hannah just woke up and asked me for biscuits.
They’re like scones, but they eat them with this gross sausage gravy here.
I don’t have ingredients for biscuits, I don’t like the gravy, and I have no idea where to order them from, so I’m making scones.
They’re close enough. Kind of.” I had to hand it to Mum for staying quiet until I’d finished.
I knew she’d be brimming with questions after my monologue.
“Okay, that isn’t at all what I was expecting you to say. Is Brayden okay?”
“Bay-den,” Hannah added.
“Yeah, sweet pea. Brayden.”
I nodded, then realized Mum couldn’t see me. “Bray’ll be off the ice for a week or so, no screen time, and nothing too stressful until the headaches subside. But he’s okay.”
“And what’s your girlfriend’s name? Keel, did you say?”
“Keeley. She’s the PR rep at the Seals. She’s pretty incredible, Ma.” My cheeks heated, and I grinned just thinking about her. The way she held Bray last night and was constantly checking on him was something else. So was the way she took charge and cared for me when I needed her.
“She sounds it if she’s got both of your attention.” Mum paused, and I knew there were more questions coming. But she didn’t ask what I expected her to. “And how’s the search for your house going?”
“We’ve found a place. We can’t sign anything until Bray’s cleared, but I’m calling the agent today to tell them we want it. I’ll put a deposit down to hold it. There’s enough room for you guys to come and stay too.”
“That’s the most important thing, of course,” Ma teased. “Hon, this is gonna cost you a fortune, and you’ve got a hungry two-year-old to feed. Can we video chat soon?”
“As soon as Bray’s cleared,” I promised.
“Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you both, too, Ma.” We hung up, and I redressed Hannah before I gestured to the kitchen. “You wanna help me cook biscuits, sweet pea?”
“Yas!” She jumped up and pumped her arms like she’d won a championship, and I chuckled at her antics.
I got out two bowls and measured out the flour, butter, and milk for me.
Then added some flour and milk to a bowl for Hannah.
She sat down on the floor, and I gave her the bowl.
“Get your hands in that and squish it together like this.” I showed her how to do it, and she grinned like the devil.
She was going to make a mess, but if she was happy, I honestly didn’t care.
“Sweet pea, these biscuits are gonna be a little different to how your mum makes them. But they’ll be yummy. I guarantee it.”
I whipped up a batch of scones, slid them into the tiny countertop oven that came with the apartment, and Hannah banged the stainless-steel bowl on the tiled floor, the sound echoing around the quiet hotel suite.
A second later Keeley dashed out of the bedroom, pulling on Bray’s T-shirt as she went.
It only just covered her generous curves, and I took a moment to admire her.
She pressed her hand to her chest and exhaled heavily. “You scared me, sweet girl.” Then she catalogued the mess Hannah had made—flour and patches of the sticky mix on the tiles, cupboards and in her hair—and she groaned. “Oh, Hannah, we’ve got some cleaning to do.”
“No, you don’t,” I interrupted, stopping her from scooping Hannah up. “Hannah and I have been baking. Sorry we woke you.” I wrapped Keeley in my arms and kissed her hair, then murmured, “I’ll clean this up, including Hannah. You go back to bed. You were up all night.”
“It’s okay, I’m awake now.” She breathed deeply and hummed. “What’s cooking? It smells divine.”
“Mum’s scones. She sent the recipe through for me when Hannah asked for biscuits, since we didn’t have the ingredients.”
“Oh, you funny girl. Biscuits are a Sunday favorite,” Keeley explained, and ruffled Hannah’s hair. Her daughter shot her a mischievous grin. She added, “I usually make them after church on Sundays.”
I was officially wrapped around a toddler’s finger, and I wasn’t even a little bit upset about it.
“How old is Hannah?” I asked.
“She just turned two.” She smiled indulgently at her daughter, and Hannah jumped up and hugged Keeley, covering her legs in flour and milk goop.
“Ew,” Keeley groaned exaggeratedly and picked up Hannah. “We’re going to have to hose you down. You’re such a mess,” she teased.
“No. Baff,” Hannah instructed her mum, her face deadly serious.
“Come on, sweet pea.” I held my hands out, and she leaned over for me to take her. “We’ll get you all sparkling clean for Mum. Now, I don’t remember being invited to your birthday party. What do you think—should we have another one?”
“Yas! And cake and sheep.”
“Of course we’ll have cake. You want sheep at your birthday too?”
“Yas.” She nodded, and I grinned.
“Old McDonald’s Farm it is. I’ve got the perfect place as well.”
We didn’t have a tub, so Hannah had to shower, but she thought it was the best thing since sliced bread.
It was raining and she could jump in muddy puddles—more water ended up outside the shower, including all over me, than down the drain, but she giggled the whole time.
I counted that as a win, and when the kitchen timer went off, Keeley stuck her head in to tell me that she’d pulled the scones out of the oven.
I had Hannah mostly dry and dressed in a pair of brown corduroy overalls and a white long-sleeved top with brown sheep printed on it. I was sitting her down to try a scone when Keeley walked in after drying the bathroom floor.
“I’m not sure how to care for her hair,” I said. “Can you show me?”
Keeley smiled wider than I’d ever seen her before and held up a bottle of hair product and a brush.
“It’s taken me a while, but I think I’ve figured it out.
The trick seems to be to only wash it once or twice a week.
I’ve got special shampoo, so it doesn’t strip the oils out of Hannah’s hair, and I use this leave-in conditioner daily. ”
She showed me how she rubbed the conditioner through the drying lengths, taking care not to tangle Hannah’s hair.
“It’s really thick, so it takes quite a while to dry, but that usually gives me plenty of time to condition and brush it.”
Keeley gently divided Hannah’s hair into sections and gripped it tightly halfway down. “You have to brush small pieces at a time and start from the ends, not her scalp, otherwise it’ll tangle. I hold it like this so if a knot pulls, I’m not ripping it out of her scalp.”
Hannah wasn’t bothered at all by what her mum was doing. She happily sat and ate, stuffing pieces of the scone into her mouth and humming a song I didn’t know.