Chapter 6
“Hey, now.”Booker checked her eyes to be sure she was okay with it. “I was invited.”
“I’m kidding.” The sparkle in them confirmed it. “You were incredibly thoughtful. I know how exhausted you were, and you stayed up until I felt comfortable enough to fall asleep. Seriously, I appreciate that.”
He quit stirring the eggs to grab jam from the fridge. “In any event, the place was practically uninhabitable, and I presented plans that honored the integrity of the original structure and used sustainable products.”
“It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Worth twenty-five thousand a month?” he asked.
“Oh, hell, no. I mean, where’s the folder giving you coupons for local pizza parlors? You could at least have shampoo and conditioner dispensers in the shower.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for my next guests. Oh, wait. I won’t have any.”
“Ha ha. You put all this work into it. Why don’t you come here more often?”
“I don’t have the time.” But he got her point. “It helps to know it’s here. That if I need an escape, I’ve got someplace to go.”
“Like now.”
“Yeah. Exactly.” Although, this time, it had been a big mistake. He never should’ve left the city before talking to Ginty. Christmas or not, his boss wouldn’t let this one go.
Shit. Fuck.
He needed to get into town.
“I get that more than you know. I travel a lot for my job, and every town or city I’m in, I look at real estate. I try to picture myself living there.”
“Have you found a place?”
“Nope. Mostly, I knew there wasn’t an escape from my life. It was just a fantasy.”
That was an odd thing to say. Even someone like Marcus, who ran a global agency with more than three thousand clients, spent time at his cottage on Martha’s Vineyard. Who wouldn’t be able to get away for short breaks here and there? It didn’t make sense, and it made him more curious than ever.
“I don’t know. Maybe I just haven’t found a place that wowed me. In any event, this is the first time I’ve had nothing to do. And it’s been fun. I’ve watched all kinds of tutorials on wreath-making and gardening…flower arranging. I even took French for beginners.”
“Everything except cooking?”
She laughed. “That’s exactly right. Hey, it’s a rental. I didn’t want to burn the place down or buy equipment I’d never use again.”
“And out of all those classes, what did you like doing?”
“Literally nothing.” Again, she laughed, but he could see the frustration in the way her fingers gripped the counter.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s see. I’ve tried writing a book.” She shook her head. “That was a whole lot of staring into space. I’ve learned how to knit.” She tipped her head to the dining room where he noticed a wicker basket filled with yarn.
“Hated that, too, huh?”
“Hated it. But I’ve binge-watched all the shows people talk about. I’ve read probably a hundred books and?—”
“What kind?”
“Of books?” She smiled, letting him know she liked the question. “Oh, everything under the sun. And that’s another thing. I used to read all the time as a kid, but the busier my life got, the harder it was to concentrate. I can’t tell you how many times I’d pick up a book, but I was so distracted I couldn’t see the words on the page.” She shook her head. “I found success in my career but lost any sense of myself outside of it.”
He could relate. “Three months is a long time to live alone. You’re not bored yet?”
“I’ve been enjoying the solitude. And bored isn’t the right word. I’m restless. I’m itching to do something, but I haven’t defined what it is I want to be doing. Like…this next step feels important.”
“And you can’t go back out there until you’ve figured it out?
“When I think about going ‘home,’ I get this weird feeling. Like someone’s holding the back of my shirt. I think I have some more hibernating to do.”
Why did she put the word home in quotation marks? Did the people who betrayed her sabotage her career somehow? But as much as he wanted to wear his lawyer hat and figure it out, he also had to respect her request for privacy.
The toast popped up, and he handed her a knife. “If you go back, are you afraid you’ll get caught up in the same bullshit?”
She skipped the butter and slathered only the raspberry jam. “You know, I hadn’t thought about it like that. But yes, I think you’re right. As soon as I go back, I’ll be swept into my old life, and I’ll go back to being so busy I’ll forget everything I got out of my time here.”
“Unless you swerve. Stay in the same business but change lanes. But trust me, I get it. It’s hard to reinvent yourself when everyone sees you a certain way.” Are you giving yourself advice? Or her? He should be careful not to blur the lines.
“That’s so true.”
He scraped butter over his toast and then served the eggs. “Grab your bacon, and let’s sit by the fire.” Shoving napkin-wrapped cutlery into his back pocket, he took his plate to the hearth.
“Thank you.” She eyed her food like a child would a giant slab of cake. “This looks amazing.” After a big bite, she closed her eyes and chewed. “Oh, my God. I haven’t had real food in months. I can’t believe how good it is.”
“Everything tastes better when you’re starving.”
“Maybe, but I’ve never had better eggs. Learning to cook is already on my list, but now, it’s bumped up even higher.”
“What else is on this list?”
She set her fork down. “Besides reinventing my career? I need to figure out where I want to live and buy a new house. I mean, really, everything’s in play.”
Divorce. The husband took the house. Sounded like they were in business together, and he took that, too? Or she chose to walk away. But she didn’t want him to know, so he shut down the speculation. “That’s a lot. You know…” A lot of his clients faced a similar situation. “You might be trying to fix too many problems at once. It could be the reason you’re not ready to get back out there.”
“It does feel overwhelming.”
“Think of all the steps it took to get where you are today. Nothing happens overnight. So maybe, like you said, identify your goal first, then figure out the steps to get there. If you break it down into smaller steps, it might feel less daunting. Why not start with something fun like house hunting? Play around on the real estate sites. See if a state, a town, or a particular house grabs your interest. Don’t worry about a career change or learning how to cook just yet. If money’s not an issue, you can take one thing at a time.”
Her blue eyes sparkled. “I like that idea.”
“Also, another thing that helps is flipping the script. Instead of saying I’m overwhelmed, say I’m excited about my future. Because it’s your story to write. You can do or be anything you want.”
The yearning in her eyes revealed the depth of her struggle.
“I used to be an athlete,” he said. “And I can tell you the single biggest predictor of success is your mindset. Your ability to control your thoughts.”
“But when I’m freaking out, I can’t control them.”
“I know. It’s hard. But again, you break it down into steps. Start by identifying the anxiety. Then, tackle it to the ground. Because it isn’t based on reality. It’s based on fears, on a feeling of powerlessness. Right now, you’re anxious about which direction you want to take. That’s based on fear. When you rephrase it and say, ‘I’m excited about this new direction,’ you feel empowered. And that’s when you can start moving toward your goal.”
“I see that. I really do.”
“Think about a quarterback who’s got nine seconds left in the fourth quarter, is looking for a receiver who’s open, and has four men running at him, determined to knock him on his ass. If he panics, he’s going to find himself at the bottom of a pile. If he’s confident, if he’s looking only for an opportunity, he’s going to win.”
She nodded. “Failure is not an option.”
“That’s right. The only way he can win that game is to screen it all out, stay focused on his goal, and throw the ball exactly how he knows how to do it. And the same thing applies to us. We’re not going to have the success we want until we can control our thoughts.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“It’s a habit. It’s something you practice every day. It’s listening to the voice in your head, and then changing it. Try it.”
“Right now?”
He nodded. “Say it out loud, the thing you tell yourself while you’re brushing your teeth or tearing the cellophane off your gift basket.”
She laughed. “Good one. Okay, well, that’s easy. I have no idea what to do next. I can’t get back out there until I have a game plan.”
“Now, flip it.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, her forehead creased in concentration. “For the first time in my life, I can take the time to try new things and figure out who I am outside of my career. I’m excited about the possibilities.” When she opened her eyes, she had a grin of disbelief. “You know, it kind of worked. I felt this weird shift inside me, like a space opening.”
“It does work. Now, be conscious of it all the time. You control your thoughts. Don’t let your fears control you.”
“All right. I’ll try it.” Her smile faltered. “Well, wait. See, there, it happened again. That little sting of fear.”
“Okay, what’s the block?”
“I’ve only ever done one thing. What if I’m not good at anything else?”
“That’s a fear-loaded question. And it’s limiting you to one possible outcome. When you tell yourself you’re not good at anything else, you shut the door to your own potential. The truth is you can apply the skills that make you good in your field to any number of things. When you focus on the negative, you’re living in fear. And that paralyzes you.”
“It does. I see that.”
“So, ask yourself what else you might be good at. Think in terms of possibilities, of hope, instead of doom.”
“Oh, I love that so much. Where did you get this from?”
“It’s from all the sports therapists I’ve worked with.”
“What sport did you play?”
“Hockey. If you’re on the NHL track, sports therapists are part of the program. You have to get your head in the right place. It’s every bit as much a mind game as it is a physical one.”
“You said you used to be an athlete.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t love telling this story. “I got drafted in my senior year of high school.”
“Oh. That’s amazing. How long did you play?”
“Not a single day. The night before I was heading for training camp, I got an injury that took me out of my sport permanently.”
“Are you serious?” Her features squeezed in horror. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah. So, I’ve been where you are. I trained for one thing in my life. Nothing else. And when it fell apart, I had to reinvent myself.”
“What did you do?”
He smiled. “I swerved.”
“It couldn’t have been that easy.”
“No, it wasn’t. But I was determined.” For several reasons. One, he was built that way. But two, he wanted to prove something to his former friends. He was not going to fail. He wasn’t going to be some loser while they played in the NHL. As it turned out, Cole was one of the best forwards of all time, Declan coached the Renegades, and Jaime was their goalie. “I knew, with my training and experience, I could do a lot of things. I could be a sports therapist or a trainer.”
“Or a coach.”
“Exactly. I just had to figure out which path to take. And that developed over a lot of years.”
“See how the universe works? Of all the people whose cabins I could’ve broken into, it happened to be yours. I know it sucks for you that I’m crashing your getaway, but you’ve given me hope. You’re absolutely right. There are a million things in my industry I could do.”
She probably didn’t realize how transparent her emotions were, but her lack of enthusiasm told him what she thought of the other jobs. “You didn’t ask me if I like what I’m doing now. If I miss hockey and drown my sorrows in vodka every night after I get home from work.”
“Oh, I saw you in that sweater, Slick. You’re not drowning your sorrows in anything but the gym.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, okay. But the answer is that I like what I do. The skills I needed to become a good hockey player transferred into my career. The dedication and self-discipline, the thinking on my feet… And it turns out I’m happier with intellectual challenges than I am with physical. My point is to keep your mind open to possibilities, stay positive, and screen out other people’s expectations. Because at the end of the day, you’re the one who has to live your life, and you might as well do it happy and fulfilled.”
“If you’re not a therapist, it’s time for a career change.” She set her breakfast down and reached for him.
He shifted his plate away, wrapping his free arm around her. She buried her face in his neck and whispered, “Thank you for talking to me. I needed someone’s voice other than my own.”
A prickly heat spread through him. “You’re welcome.” This show of affection seemed unwarranted.
“Why do you smell so good?” She lifted her head, putting their noses a breath apart.
“I don’t. I haven’t showered in twenty-four hours.”
When she released him, her eyes were glistening.
“Look, I don’t know what those assholes did to you but don’t let them keep you from living the life you want. Here’s another thing we have in common. After my accident, my friends disappeared. We’d been together since kindergarten, and not one of them showed up at the hospital or called to find out how I was. In some ways, that was harder than losing my dream of playing hockey.”
“Are you serious? That’s disgusting.”
He nodded. “But I used that betrayal. Part of what drove me to excel was the need to show them up. And I did.”
They’d reached out over the years, but he hadn’t taken any of their calls. Fuck them for only making the effort when he was in a position to help them. Most recently, Jaime had the brass balls to show up at his apartment—right when he needed an agent.
He was glad he hadn’t been home that afternoon. Because he wouldn’t have been as nice as his mom had been. But enough about those assholes. He got up and brought his plate to the sink. At the window, he glanced out. “I’m going to split some more logs for the fire.”
“I was wondering when you were going to get around to it.” She came up behind him and set her empty plate on the counter. “You’ve only got enough to last the next three winters. Come on, Slacker. You need at least a year or two more.”
Her soft, feminine scent washed away any thoughts of his former friends and his concern about Marcus’s threat. It had him imagining peeling off her robe, hitching up the hem of her shirt, and gliding his hands up her warm belly, filling his palms with her tits. Were they small and pert or heavy and full?
Arousal got him half-hard, and he moved away from her. “I’ve got to work off some energy.” The blizzard was slowing down, and he was going out there. He’d shovel away this lust, even if it meant carving a path all the way into town.
He’d left his boots by the hearth, and on his way over to them, a thought struck him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why don’t you have a tree?”
“Thanks for thinking I can take down a mighty pine with my bare hands.” She flexed her biceps.
“You know I have an axe, right?”
“Even if I did, it’s not like I’d go out there and try to chop down a tree.”
“Nobody said you had to take down a ten-footer.”
“I’m just not in the mood.”
Well, moods changed. “Go on and check the water. Should be warming up by now. You can shower while I’m doing man-work.”
“You’re not going to cut down a tree, are you?” She got up, standing so close, he could smell the laundry detergent in her clothes. The faint scent of shampoo. She had a creamy complexion, and he wanted to see the flush of arousal pinken her cheeks.
He wanted to see her lips soften and part and her neck arch.
He wanted to know what sounds she’d make. Would she be loud, throaty? Demanding? Or would she whimper and sigh?
“If you’re really going to do this,” she said with a pleased grin. “Then, I’d better start making some decorations.”
“Sounds good.” He shoved his feet into the boots, and his hands into the still-damp gloves.
Damn, this woman intrigued him. She had a chef, she’d reached the pinnacle of success in her career…she didn’t know how to grate cheese. The puzzle was missing too many pieces for him to see a clear picture. Maybe she’d been an Olympic figure skater. To get to that level, her whole life had to be about training. Maybe she was an actress with a staff who managed her life.
It struck him just how narrow his world had become. He worked eighteen-hour days and rarely took vacation time. To be worthy of his commissions, he had to be available to his clients any time of the day or night. It was so all-consuming, he didn’t have time for social media or TV shows. And he wouldn’t recognize the latest pop or movie star if he fell over them.
As he headed for the back door, he realized something else he didn’t have time for. Friendships. Relationships. He hung out with his colleagues, but he didn’t think of them as friends. They joked around, bitched about difficult clients, and grabbed drinks every now and then. He didn’t date. He had hookups or went out with a woman as a plus-one to a wedding or an event.
He grabbed the axe from the utility closet and stepped outside. The realization hit him at the same time as the frigid air. Hellcat was the first woman he’d had an actual conversation with in a very long time. And he liked talking to her. Liked her.
Trudging through thigh-deep snow, her mischievous smile popped into his mind, setting off sparks under his skin.
The air froze in his nose and throat, but he kept going. He wanted to find the perfect tree for her…
What the hell?
He shook his head. Find the perfect tree? First of all, she didn’t even belong there. Secondly, he’d come there for a break. Not to be obsessing about some woman.
Well…too late for that. He was preoccupied with her. What the hell was it about her that caught his interest?
He’d been around enough women to understand his body’s reactions. With Hellcat… She did something to him. Made him feel soft things he’d never felt before.
Was this why people got married? Because they found one person who got under their skin?
Probably. But this situation wasn’t like that. After this, they’d never see each other again. Weirdly, though, he had the sense Hellcat was a game-changer kind of woman. That if he spent more time with her, if she lived in his world…
Just find a damn tree. The air was sharp and cold, the pine trees creaked, and the boughs hung dangerously low, weighted with a foot of snow.
The silence filled his ears like water, creating pressure. He’d never felt loneliness so acutely as in that moment. The animals were hiding in burrows and caves, his mom was somewhere on an island with the man she’d probably marry one day, and his colleagues were finishing up work so they could either meet for drinks or get home to their families.
The weird thing was, the whole reason he’d come there was to be alone. To get away so he could think.
But he knew the reason for this preoccupation. Of course, he did. It was the way he clicked with Hellcat. He hadn’t done that with anyone since his hockey friends.
The same guys who’d taught him that friendship was situational. Once you flew outside of each other’s orbit, you clipped the connection. Same’s true for Hellcat. Once he left, they’d forget all about each other. It’s situational.
A branch cracked, and snow came tumbling down. And that was when he found it. The perfect tree.
He pictured Hellcat’s expression when she saw it. How joy would spread across her features, how her eyes would light up. And there really wasn’t anything he wanted more than to do that for her.
It wasn’t lost on him that he was thinking about this stranger’s happiness when he could be sitting next to the fire with a cup of coffee, deciding on his next move.
But it was okay. He’d figured things out.
Situational, remember?
He wouldn’t get invested.