16. Piper
PIPER
Goldie was on her feet. “Damn you, Gideon.” She pounded on the glass.
Ace went airborne as he was hit by the hulking Barracuda player. We watched in silence as number eleven tried to get up in time to steal the puck from his brother, but it had already been passed to another guy, who shot it right over the shoulder of the goalie.
“Fuck,” Goldie whispered.
“I’m sure they will get a goal sometime this game, dear.” Judy rested her hand on Goldie’s shoulder.
We watched the replay at least three times before Goldie slipped back into her seat, her hands held in front of her stomach. “It’s not that.” She sighed. “Both of those guys have had concussions—they know better. Gideon especially.”
I didn’t know Gideon well, but there were two things I did know: one, the obvious, he was serious about hockey.
He told me he wouldn’t go easy on Ace, and it turned out he was a man of his word.
The second thing I knew was that he loved his brother, so watching those two things collide, like actually hit each other, several feet below me, was jarring.
“Why are they still playing?” I asked. I realized that the concussion detail was one of the many things I still didn’t know about the taller, darker Bailey brother.
Goldie sipped her beer, which had to be warm at this point. “They were both cleared. Although it’s my personal opinion”—she placed her hand on her freckled chest—“that Gideon needed further assessment. He’s older than Ace, and back then, the hits he took were often brushed off.”
The players returned to the bench, and the frenetic energy of the stadium had started to settle down.
My eyes had been glued to number seventeen the entire time.
It was so much better up in the private box.
Next to the ice, could I have studied every move Gideon made?
Unlikely, unless I wanted to look like a crazy stalker.
Up here, in the comfort of the private box, complete with several TVs, complimentary caviar, and apparently a Tigers superfan, Judy, I could keep my eyes glued on Gideon.
The cameraman zoomed in on Gideon. He rested his elbows on his knees, and his cheeks were flushed.
He was excited; I knew this because they looked the exact same as when I’d gone down on him by the pool.
My heart pounded, watching him. He was in his element, and it was so hot watching his every move.
His dark eyelashes batted shut as he tilted his head back to take a drink.
My cheeks burned. Why was I making everything sexual?
When that man came, he leaned his head back like that, exposing his muscular throat as he moaned out my name.
Look at the camera . I tried to will the man to look at the lens, wanting to see his eyes. They sparkled when he smiled, and at that moment, there was a huge grin plastered across his face. He obviously didn’t feel too bad about leveling his brother to get the goal.
Judy swirled her champagne. She’d switched from the draft beer to the better bubbly, as she called it, when we were presented with a bottle of Veuve in the box.
My beer sat flat and warm in the holder next to me once I realized that it was going to be me behind the wheel of the Ferrari after the game.
“He’s fine. They’re both fine. It’s a part of the game.
Back in the day, I used to go to the game after my shift at the restaurant.
Now, those guys, they were tough. No helmets. ”
“You worked at a restaurant?” I asked. This was the first I’d heard of Judith’s life, pre-Keith.
“It was a diner, actually. They made us wear tight uniforms, and that’s where I learned how to deal with men. I had just moved to the city from my small town—that made me a little na?ve, but blue-collar tough.”
Goldie raised her eyebrows.
“That explains the beer,” I mused. Judy snapped her head to look at me, and I stiffened.
In all of the drama of the evening, I’d tried my best not to forget that Judith was my boss.
But her eyes softened. “Beer is better than coffee.” She grinned, her eyes tracking to the ice surface, but nothing was happening down below.
Her voice took on a faraway tone. “My first boyfriend played for Boston, and he definitely had a few screws loose in the noggin.” She knocked on her platinum strands, her ring glinting in the stadium lights.
This time, I met Goldie’s eyes. They were a bright blue and, from behind her cat-eye glasses, looked enormous.
I wondered if Goldie was going to call her out, tell her that it wasn’t appropriate to comment on screws, loose or otherwise, but she didn’t.
“You dated a Boston player? Who? That was my dad’s favorite team, and I know a lot of the players. ”
Judy chuckled. “There’s a reason I’m not a Boston fan anymore, and it has a lot to do with Clayton Flint.”
“Flint?” Goldie looked amused. “He was a great player. My dad has a photo of him in his man-cave.”
Judith crossed her arms. “He was great at hockey, but he was even better in the bedroom.”
Goldie coughed, choking on her beer. I thought that Judith was going to say something bad about Mr. Flint. I wasn’t wrong; I only had to wait a second. “Too good. As a matter of fact, he was a terrible boyfriend.”
How many years had passed since Judy dated Flint?
There was still a bite in her voice. I was still trying to process the fact that my millionaire boss, who golfed with the wives of some of the richest men in the country, used to be a waitress in Boston and had dated an NHL player.
“Back then, it was acceptable for the players to have one or two girls on the side.” Judy sipped her champagne.
“Well, the players wear helmets now, but the puck bunny on the side thing hasn’t changed,” Goldie said.
The game was back on, and Goldie returned her focus to the ice, her eyes glued to the action down below. “There are a few good ones, but a lot of the guys are still kids.”
Chalk up another reason why I shouldn’t be with Gideon Bailey.
I hadn’t even thought about competing bunnies hopping all over him the second the game was done.
My concerns had been wrapped up in so many of the other reasons that we couldn’t be together, my daughter being the biggest one.
There was also the tiny white lie that had grown into a giant one: I wasn’t his next-door neighbor; I was the next-door neighbor’s maid.
If we were able to get past those two obstacles, bunnies were just one more obstacle that could be in our way.
Dating a professional athlete wasn’t easy.
If Gideon and I could wave a magic wand and become an instant family, I would still have to worry about him being away on the road.
My eyes tracked across the crowd, clocking all of the beautiful women who seemed as invested in the action as Goldie.
As though she could sense my thoughts, Goldie tore her gaze from Ace to look at me. “Not Gideon. He’s a good man. Actually, underneath that granite exterior of his, he’s one of the softest and most loyal men I’ve ever met.”
Judy grabbed Goldie’s hand. “And this girl here is the kindest, most hardworking woman I know.”
Goldie’s forehead knitted, and she looked from Judith to me. “Exactly how do you two know each other?”
It was a valid question. Judy, in her head-to-toe orange and six figures’ worth of diamonds, and me, rumpled hair and a Bailey jersey that hung to my knees, were definitely an odd couple. Was this where the shoe dropped? Would Gideon find out the secret I’d kept from him from his sister-in-law?
“Piper is a friend of the family,” Judy responded before I could do it. “I’ve known her for years. If that boy down there is as good as you say he is, he might be almost good enough for our Piper.”
A lump formed in my throat. Was this how Judith, Judy, saw me? A friend?
“Trust me.” Goldie smiled. “When Gideon Bailey dedicates himself to something or someone, nothing will tear him away. And I don’t want to be a meddling sister-in-law, but I’ve never seen him smile about anyone or anything the same way he does when he talks about you, Piper.”
My cheeks burned. Gideon had talked about me. What did he say? How he felt about me? “We’ve only just met. I helped him rescue a cat.” I tried to quiet the questions screaming in my mind.
Goldie grinned. “That, my friend, told me all I need to know. Gideon is not a cat person, and now he heats up wet food in the microwave for that little kitty.”
My smile was involuntary as I remembered Gideon’s initial days with the cat. “He refused to name him for the first few days.”
Goldie tossed a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “I’ve already said too much. Gideon is a very private person, but I need you to know, Piper, that he’s a good man. A great man. And that he really, really likes you.”
Judy turned to me with tears in her eyes. She patted my hand. “I always knew you’d end up with a good man.”
“Whoa.” I held up my hands. “You two are both getting way ahead of yourselves. Gideon and I have both agreed we’re not looking for anything serious right now.”
They both gave each other a knowing look. “Fine.” Goldie shrugged. “You’re perfect for each other—both stubborn as hell.”
Judy laughed, then pointed a finger at the jumbotron. “It’s some girls from the ABCLLC.” The camera panned to several of the women I’d seen at the Azalea Bay Club patio the day I’d played pickleball with Lisa.
“It looks like they’re directly across from us in the box over there.” Goldie pointed straight ahead.
Sure enough, the group of stunning women were in the box across from us.
They were gorgeous, ranging in age from what looked to be early forties, to Judy—although with all the work they had done, it was hard to tell.
“What’s the ACD club?” Goldie fumbled the acronym.
I was glad she asked because I had no idea either.
Judy stood. “I’m going to go see them. It’s the Azalea Bay Club Ladies Lunch Club.
I think that’s Kensie, Izzy, and Penny over there.
” She squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll be back.
Enjoy watching that handsome man who keeps looking at our old seats.
” She finished the glass of champagne, smoothed her outfit, and then was off.
“She is something.” Goldie laughed as soon as Judy was out of earshot.
“Something is right,” I agreed. I shifted into the seat beside Goldie.
She offered me some popcorn. I took a kernel and let the saltiness dissolve in my mouth.
“I didn’t mean to sound harsh earlier. Gideon and I agreed to be friends, and now I’m here with you.
I’m a little shocked right now, truthfully. ”
Goldie shook the bag and offered me some more.
“I get it. Gideon told us that you two were just friends, but I knew he was downplaying it. I convinced him to leave you the tickets.” She held up her index finger.
“But he wanted to respect your deal. I’m the one responsible for you being here, but I can guarantee he’s spent the game wondering why you’re not in that seat down there. ”
“You can’t possibly tell that from here.”
“I can.” Goldie shrugged. “And so could Judy.”
My heart thumped, and for the first time, I allowed myself to wonder, could I be with the player next door? My stomach sank just as quickly. It would mean telling him the truth, and the fact that I’d… not necessarily lied, but through omission had led him to believe I was someone else.
“Look.” Goldie pointed. With the action below paused, the cameraman panned across all the boxes. Judy was sitting next to a Penelope Cruz look-alike. “Please tell me you’ve got a limo with a driver coming. I think she just finished another glass.”
The women across from us were captured mid-laugh, their perfect veneers glinting as they clutched glasses with manicured hands, weighed down by rings.
None smaller than five carats. “I’m driving.
” I stood and grabbed a bottle of water from the bucket of ice.
Goldie ordered another beer, and the two of us settled back into our seats.
The whistle blew, and the players circled into position.
“You don’t seem like them.” Goldie held up her frosted mug of beer. “The Desperate Housewives over there.”
“I’m… not.” This was my chance. Goldie was really cool and didn’t seem like the type to judge me for what I did or who I was, but she was still Gideon’s family, and I had lied to someone close to her.
The first person who needed to know who I was, was Gideon.
As the puck dropped, my mind was made up. I would tell Gideon the truth.
With the decision made, my shoulders dropped a little. What was going to happen would happen; I couldn’t keep the truth hidden forever. The truth was going to set me free, even if that meant I’d be out of Gideon’s life forever.
The crowd cheered as the Tigers took a shot and missed. The big player who looked like he belonged in a football uniform, not hockey, checked Ace into the boards. Goldie winced.
“Was that a dirty hit?” I asked.
“The ref doesn’t seem to think so.” Her lips narrowed.
Gideon glided down the ice, but instead of looking forward, his eyes were glued to his brother as he skated to the visitors’ bench.
Swooping in from the blue line, a Tigers player had both hands on his stick and checked Gideon from behind.
“Oh no.” Goldie’s hands went to her mouth.
The crunch of the boards sounded different than the earlier hits.
Whistles blew, the play stopped, and the crowd was the quietest it had been all night.
Goldie was out of her seat, her hands pressed to the glass.
I joined her, trying to process what had happened on the ice surface below.
The player who had hit Gideon was being escorted away by the referee.
A man with a first aid bag shuffled across the ice, and Gideon, number seventeen, was face down.
One of his gloves had been knocked off. The medic kicked it out of the way as he reached him.
I didn’t know what was happening. The man on the ice below, incredibly strong and fit, seemingly unstoppable, indestructible even, wasn’t moving.