2. You’re okay to do this?
Chapter 2
You’re okay to do this?
Phin
I was getting cold. Really cold. My fingers and toes had started that pins and needles tingling, but I didn’t want to run the vehicle for too long since the fuel was at a quarter tank. The tow hadn’t got here yet, and I didn’t want to be without any source of heat in case it didn’t arrive for a while.
When I finally saw the lights of a truck approaching, I let out a long breath, visible in the cool air inside my SUV. I flexed my feet and hands to make sure they’d work and carefully stepped out into the snow. My shoes didn’t have enough tread to handle the ice if I lost my balance.
Even if this wasn’t my tow, I needed to get somewhere warm ASAP. I’d pay the driver to take me to Newfell, the nearest town. No one would refuse to help in these conditions, right? Hell, I’d use my hockey status to convince them if needed.
The truck slowed and stopped cautiously beside me, rear tires slipping even at that speed. The door had Duvall Towing on it. The name brought back memories. The family with the cottage next to us when we were growing up were called Duvall. Could this be one of the boys, or a relative? Damn, I should have kept in touch. We’d been friends, before.
I stamped my feet, rubbing my hands together, and the driver’s door opened. Down stepped a woman swathed in a bulky coat that hid most of her figure. Even bundled up and in the limited light, she was pretty. About my age, and possibly familiar.
“Uh, hi. I’m really glad to see you. Are you—wait, Skye?” A big grin crossed my face. Skye was the younger sister of Riley and Oscar Duvall, the guys I’d hung around with every summer before Dad married Lina and I threw myself into hockey to escape my family. This was excellent. I could catch up on the family, maybe arrange to see them while I was here?—
Her angry voice cut in. “No fucking way. Phin Collins?”
I knew that voice, but I hadn’t heard it angry like that since the time we’d put snails in her bed. “Yeah, it’s me. Wow, it’s been a minute.”
Something like a growl sounded in her throat. “You need a tow?”
My brain was a little scrambled. Skye Duvall had certainly grown up. During summers at the cottage, she used to hang out with my little brother, and the two of them would try to tag along with me and Riley and Oscar. Pitting the memory of that kid against this angry woman was a total disconnect.
I obviously needed a tow. My Honda was firmly stuck in the ditch and was slowly disappearing under a coating of snow. There were no businesses or houses close by, and it was cold, snowy and freezing here. If she was angry enough to drive away, I was in serious trouble.
“Well?” Her voice was brusque. Maybe she’d been in the middle of something when she got the call.
“Yeah, I need to get pulled out.”
Her lips tightened. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Was I spoiled? I played in the top professional hockey league which brought me money and some celebrity, especially in Toronto. People knew my name and I had fans who wore my jersey, but I’d never had someone so unhappy to help me out before.
Skye stomped around the truck, muttering.
“You’re okay to do this?”
Wow, she could look even angrier. “No, I drove the truck out here because I’m useless.”
“I didn’t mean—” But she ignored me, heading to the hook. She’d stopped the truck in the perfect position to pull me out. No wonder she was pissed that I was questioning her. Time to put aside the kid I remembered and deal with the competent woman handling my problem.
I stood, feeling useless, as she placed the hook on the undercarriage of my vehicle. I couldn’t see much of her, just the oval of her face, everything else bundled up to keep warm. Smart. I had come with a lightweight coat for driving, leather gloves, and no hat.
Once it was set up to her liking, she did something on the side of the truck, and the cable started to pull my ride out.
I winced. As the back end came in view, so did the damage. Was it even driveable?
Skye came around the side of my Honda, narrowed eyes assessing it. She didn’t look any happier, though I was pretty sure the condition of my vehicle meant more work for someone local, maybe even her family. She must have been in the middle of something good before I called in. My brain was helpful about suggesting dirty things that might have been interrupted, but I slapped those thoughts away. It didn’t matter. She was here, doing her job, and I needed her to do it well. I certainly shouldn’t perv over her.
She crossed her arms. “You can’t drive it like this. So where do you want me to take it?”
I rubbed my gloves over my cold face. What was supposed to have been a short escape, easy in-and-out, was now a problem. “It looks like it needs some major work. Can you recommend a place?”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “Yeah, I can take it to ours. It’s not going to get done anytime soon though. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”
I would have to find another way back to Toronto for the twenty-seventh. I doubted there were many rental car locations open up here at Christmas. “Could I pay you to drop me off at the cottage, with my stuff, and then take the car to your garage?” Since I hadn’t planned on going anywhere over the three days, I had time to figure things out. I could still salvage this escape. In fact, the weather would make sure no one would interrupt me.
Skye swiveled around, almost slipping on the ice. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Her eyes blazed with anger and I took a step back. My shoes, not intended for this weather, didn’t have enough traction and I fell, landing on my bad shoulder.
“Fuck,” I yelled as pain stabbed through the joint.
“Are you okay?” For the first time there was something other than anger in Skye’s voice.
I rolled to my good side and pushed up on my knees. She held out her hand and I gambled that she wouldn’t jerk me into another fall. Maybe she hated the Toronto Blaze.
“My shoulder,” I spit out.
“The hit in the third period last night?”
We both froze. I was shocked that she knew what had happened. It didn’t follow with her attitude.
I eyed her carefully. “Yeah. I drove out of the city to rest it before the next game.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, I’ll take you to your ‘cottage’ first.”
I could hear the quote marks around the word and that was fair. My stepmother had rebuilt our former modest, two-bedroom, one bath, single-story structure into the kind of thing that was in rich people magazines. Five, or maybe six bedrooms. A great room. Not only a huge kitchen inside, but one outside as well that was almost as big as the whole place had been previously.
My stepmother was rich people. I didn’t want to be. Even though I was now playing hockey professionally and making more money than the people I’d grown up with. More than Skye and her family, I’d bet.
She checked that my vehicle was in position before she stalked around the truck to the driver’s door and I climbed into the side closest to me. The heater was blasting warmth, fortunately, and I took off my gloves to hold my hands near the vent. Skye didn’t say anything, just put the truck in gear and drove slowly forward. We were quiet. I didn’t want to distract her in these conditions, and I wasn’t sure what to say to her. She was pissed at me, but that didn’t make a lot of sense since we hadn’t been in touch since about the time I was first drafted into juniors. Not long after that, Lina started renovations on the property and I spent summers in hockey camps. I’d only been at the new, improved cottage a couple of times during previous offseasons, but at least I remembered the door code. When I’d wanted an escape, it had seemed like the perfect choice.
Until the snow hit.
If Skye wasn’t pissed at me in particular, then she was pissed at someone else and venting it on me. Asking her about it would only make it worse. So we drove in silence.
It was only a couple of miles, though it took us twenty minutes to get to the turnoff to the cottage. The snow was coming down harder, and I wondered if she’d be able to get home okay after this. A glance at her clenched jaw and I decided against asking her.
It was half a mile down the side road. One sign there, indicating Lasata , the name Lina had given the new improved place.
There used to be two signs. Two cottages. Until Lina tore them both down to make Lasata. Which brought to mind a question I’d had for years. “Why did you guys sell your cottage?”
Skye’s head whipped toward me and the whole truck skidded.