Chapter 3 Colt #3
I slide into the booth where Samuel, Cade, and Gabe are already gathered. Gabe's nursing a dark beer and pointedly not making eye contact with me. Samuel's watching me with that quiet captain assessment he does. And Cade?
Cade's grinning like he already knows something good is about to happen.
"So." He leans forward, elbows on the table, that shit-eating smile spreading wider. "Heard you got assigned to a bakery."
I take a long pull of Lars' new craft beer, playing it cool. "Sure did. Paige told you about the flagship partnership then, Mr. Three Times? Very prestigious."
Cade's face scrunches like he just bit into a lemon.
"Mr. Three Times?" He sets down his beer, eyes narrowing. "Where the hell did you hear that?"
"Oh, you know." I wave a hand casually, snagging a wing from the basket in the center of the table. "Walls are thin in the executive offices. Girls talk, my friend."
Samuel's eyebrow ticks up with interest.
"Prestigious partnership?" Samuel's eyebrow rises slowly. "So you're going to be... what, exactly? Frosting cupcakes?"
"I'm going to be an ambassador, Captain." I grin. "A bridge between the Snow Leopards organization and the hardworking small business owners of Chilmore. Obviously it had to be me. I mean, look at the rest of you. Not exactly the kind of faces you put on promotional material."
There's a long silence, then Cade loses it.
He's laughing so hard he nearly chokes on his drink. Even Gabe's mouth twitches beneath a deep chuckle.
"You," Samuel says slowly, dropping his wing onto his plate just so he can point at me. "Are going to be in Zoey Morrison's kitchen. Every day."
"That's the assignment."
"The woman who called you an 'utter moron' at the last community event?"
"She was being affectionate."
"She threw a dinner roll at your head when you wouldn't stop dipping your finger in her soup."
"Affectionately."
Across the room, the sharp thwack of darts hitting board punctuates our conversation. Silas and Theo are locked in what looks like the dart championship of the century, both of them wearing expressions of murderous concentration.
"Twenty bucks says Silas takes it," Cade mutters, glancing over.
"Hmmm, I dunno. Theo's been practicing," Samuel counters. "Avery said she saw him in here three times last week."
I snag a wing from the fresh basket Lars dropped off, the glaze sticky-sweet against my fingers. The meat falls off the bone, tender and perfect, and I groan around another one.
"So what's your plan?" Cade asks, throwing back his beer. "Show up, flex those tiny biceps, then what? Hope she swoons?"
"I don't flex."
"Nah. Zoey's different," Samuel says quietly, and something in his tone makes me look up. "She's not going to be impressed by the usual Colt Lane Pretty Boy routine."
"What usual routine? I don't have a routine."
Three sets of eyes stare at me.
"Okay, I have a slight routine. But—"
"The smile." Cade ticks off on his fingers. "The wink. The 'accidental' brush of physical contact."
"I get it."
But underneath the banter, I feel something I haven't felt since the man sitting across from me knocked me flat on my ass. These guys, these idiots who give me endless shit… they show up.
I've been alone in that silent apartment for three weeks. With silent walls, an empty fridge, and thoughts that grew too loud. And now I'm back here, surrounded by the chaos of wings and beer and Silas swearing at Theo for a bullseye.
And it feels like...
Like the hollow feeling from this morning, the medical where Willa told me two more weeks won't hurt, it shrinks.
Maybe two more weeks off the ice won't destroy me.
Maybe I can be someone off the ice.
Maybe, for once, those voices in my head, the ones that sound like my parents reminding me that every second away from hockey is wasted time…
Maybe they're wrong.
I look up to signal Lars for another round, and that's when I see a flash of dark hair standing opposite him at the bar.
Zoey.
She's at the bar, her hair twisted up in that messy bun that drives me insane, talking to Lars as he hands over a takeout bag. Her laugh carries across the room, and without thinking, I go to stand, to walk over, to say something charming or stupid or both.
But she grabs the bag, tugs her coat tighter around herself, and those gorgeous long lashes flutter around the bar, taking it all in with a look that's both exhausted and quietly resigned. Resigned to being a mom. And boss. And baker. And accountant and cheerleader all at once.
This woman never has a single moment that belongs just to her.
She heads for the door without looking back, and I can only stand and stare as the cold night swallows her whole.
I sink back into the booth, beer forgotten. Delaney and Paige said she was different. That my charm wouldn't win a woman like Zoey over easily.
And they're right.
I'm not going to charm my way into Zoey Morrison's good graces. I'm going to earn it. However long it takes.
I signal Lars for another beer and settle back into the booth, already counting down the hours.
Oh yeah.
Tomorrow is going to be amazing.