10. The Summer Garden Dinner Trick
THE SUMMER GARDEN DINNER TRICK
Max
Phoenix is aggressive from the second the puck drops. They’re working me hard, taking shot after potent shot on goal. I can’t get a break. Our defenders aren’t getting their sticks on the rebounds enough, and every time one of our forwards snags the puck, Phoenix strips them of it.
I’m lunging for the bullets flying my way. Slapping most down, but not enough.
By the end of the second period, Phoenix is up by two, and it’s been the workout to end all workouts.
My muscles are screaming and my eyes are exhausted from watching every nanosecond of the game.
As I skate off the ice, I grab my water bottle, down some, then glance at the stands.
That’s something I rarely do, but tonight my sister, Sophie, is here with Kade and they’re sitting center ice.
I tip my chin toward them and Kade waves wildly to me, then I disappear.
That kid is pretty much the cutest thing I’ve ever seen—well, Athena is cuter, but cats aside, my nephew is—and I’d like to win for him.
In the locker room, I do my best to refocus as Coach prowls the room.
“They don’t get to come into our house and clean up like that.
We need to be getting in their faces. Taking shot after shot on their net.
I want you to get back out there, be aggressive, take control of the game, and don’t let them get all the damn shots.
Get creative. Get a power play. And get some points, men.
” He breaks down the game, then highlights the opportunities we’re blowing, talks up the plays we should be taking, then pauses, scanning the room.
Noah McBride looks like a CEO in his suit.
He’s tall, sturdy, a former player, and now, a methodical, coolly strategic coach.
His inspo speeches aren’t long. They don’t need to be, because he commands the room with his mind. “You’ve got this, team.”
When the intermission’s up, we hit the ice again with renewed focus. Aggression even. And it works.
Bryant attacks the puck fast and hard, sending it screaming into the net at the start of the third period. Ten minutes later, Falcon goes on a tear, flying down the ice, then flipping the puck to Callahan who sends it screaming past their goalie’s legs.
Yes, fucking yes! I’m cheering from the other end of the ice. We’re tied now. All we need is another goal, and for me to shut them down.
Trouble is, Phoenix slips one past me, and that’s all she wrote.
I’m pissed when I leave the ice, but one look at Kade, and I’ve got to let it go. He’s clapping as I head to the tunnel, barely seeming to care about the final score.
Truth be told, I don’t let the day in and day out eat away at me. Hockey is a long season, and I intend to have a long career. I don’t beat myself up over the losses. I focus on the next game and doing better.
A little later, after I’m showered and dressed, I track down Sophie and Kade in the corridor, where I told them to wait for me, away from the media scrum.
They’re hanging out with Josie, Wesley’s girlfriend.
When he told me she was coming to the game tonight—which she often does—I asked if she could hang with my sister and nephew at the end.
She said yes. It’s not the first time she’s done this.
She’s showing Kade some of the trophies. No, wait. She’s reading to him the words on the plaques inside the trophy case. Of course. She’s a librarian, so everything’s a reading opportunity. When she spots me, she waves, and I head over.
“Thanks, Josie.”
“Anytime. And next time I’ll bring my hockey little reader for you,” she says to Kade.
His blue eyes pop. “Yes! Thank you, Jo-Jo-Jo,” he says, trying to say her name.
“Jo-Jo-Jo works for me,” she says, then takes off.
I scoop up Kade, who’s all smiles—the life of an almost five-year-old.
“You almost won, Uncle Max,” he says. “But I don’t care because I got popcorn. They have my favorite popcorn here. Do you know what else they have?”
“What else?” I ask the cutie as I set him down in the corridor.
“Mushroom jerky! I thought it was going to be gross, but it’s so good.”
I laugh, turning to Sophie. “Mushroom jerky? They’re serving mushroom jerky here now?”
My sister sweeps her arm in the direction of the arena. “Have you seen this place? Of course they serve it.”
“Yeah, makes sense. If mushroom jerky doesn’t say bougie, I don’t know what does.”
The vendors are chichi, the offerings are organic and expensive, and the ticket prices are outrageous.
Also, every game’s sold out. Pretty sure my sister would never be able to afford the tickets on her own.
She’s a nurse raising a kid solo with some help from our parents, so outrageous hockey ticket prices are not in her budget.
Fortunately, I get comp seats, so I get to treat her to the best seats in the house.
I turn my attention back to Kade. “What’s your favorite flavor of popcorn?”
“Everything bagel,” he says, then shakes his head. “But I didn’t pick it. Mommy did. I wanted kettle corn, but she got the everything kind, and I didn’t think I’d like it. But I did. Just like the jerky.”
“You know what that means, Kade?”
“What?” he asks, bouncing on his sneakers.
“You’re a savory,” I declare.
He scrunches his brow. “That’s a weird word.”
Sophie runs a hand through his brown curls. He’s the spitting image of her, but with a more golden complexion thanks to his dad, who was Puerto Rican. Good guy who adored my sister, but he died when Kade was one. “It means you like salty snacks more than sweets,” she says.
“I like sweets too though,” he says, then his whole face lights up. “We should get ice cream.”
Sophie yawns. “It’s late, baby. I need to get to bed. And so do you. I’m a bad mommy for letting you stay up this late.”
“Nah, good moms let their kids watch hockey,” I say to Kade, because it’s not that late. We had a five-thirty puck drop on a Wednesday night, so it’s almost eight forty-five. “Which is why I’ll take you out for ice cream tomorrow. How about I pick you up from daycare and we can do it then?”
Kade pumps a fist. “Yes!”
“Max,” Sophie chides.
“What? Ice cream is always a good idea. Grandma and Grandpa can come too. And we can taste test the sweet and salty flavors,” I say to the little guy. “Then you can meet Athena.”
“Who’s that?”
“A kitten I’m fostering,” I say, then whip out my phone and show him a pic.
Sophie checks it out too, but she’s yawning again. I nod toward the end of the corridor. “Let’s get out of here,” I say. “I’ll drop you guys off.”
“But we’re all the way over the Bay Bridge,” she protests.
I roll my eyes. “Like I don’t know that.”
“It’s not drop-off territory. We can take a Lyft,” she says.
That’s way too pricey. “Nope. I’m driving, and that’s that.” It’s said like there are no two ways about it. I set a hand on her back and head down the hall. I’m almost out of here, when Everly pops out of the media room, calling out to someone in there, “We’ll talk tomorrow, Jenna.”
“See you then,” Jenna calls back. Pretty sure she works in Everly’s department.
When Everly spins around, her gaze lands on me.
Surprise registers in those brown eyes, but she composes herself quickly as her gaze swings to Sophie then Kade, then me.
Damn, she looks good tonight in those trim, dark gray slacks that hit a few inches above her ankle, exposing the skin of her lower leg, making me wonder for some annoying reason how her ankle would taste.
Floral? Tropical? Like a summer garden? An orange blossom? The sea? A hunger rolls through me as I imagine brushing my lips over that ankle, ideally while she’s wearing only those impossibly sexy black heels. I bet she’d taste like…a garden bursting with flowers in June.
A rumble works its way up my chest, and I tamp it down before it makes landfall.
I tear my eyes away from her legs, dragging my gaze up to her face, like that’ll snuff the lust. But goddamn, her eyes are so expressive.
They’re big and brown, deep pools that flicker with emotions, amusement, or excitement, depending on what’s going on inside her.
She has zero poker face. She can’t hide her feelings because of those eyes.
Right now, there’s curiosity in them. “Hi, Max,” she says, her lips curving up. “I was looking for you. Thank you for the cake. It was delicious.”
I’m picturing her eating it, licking frosting off the fork seductively, her tongue flicking over the tines.
This is getting to be a bigger and bigger problem, so I give a casual, “No problem.” But I replay my response.
Ah, hell. I sound like a jackass who thinks he did her a favor by sending cake.
It was a thank-you gift. I need to make that clear. “Thanks for the save. In Seattle.”
“Happy to help. It’s my job. And it did, in fact, help me work on publicity plans,” she says, then shifts her focus to Sophie and Kade. “This must be your sister and nephew?”
And the door slams shut on my desire. My hackles go all the way up. Does she think my family is part of her publicity project? No fucking way. “Don’t get any ideas,” I warn her.
“Um, I was just going to say hello,” she says, a little defensively.
But I don’t trust her. Or anyone.
Sophie sets a hand on my forearm through my suit jacket but directs her attention to Everly. “Forgive him. He’s part Doberman.”
“What’s the other part, Mommy?” Kade asks eagerly.
“Honey badger?” my sister suggests.
“Black bear?” Everly asks next.
“Snow leopard?” Sophie offers.
“Ornery kangaroo,” Everly suggests, with some finality.
They are having entirely too much fun at my expense when the fact is I have a right to be concerned. But first things first—this convo. “All right, all right,” I say, pushing my palms down, the sign for that’s enough. “I’m not a kangaroo.”
“Kangaroos are cool,” Kade shouts, then bounces a few times, hands curled, marsupial-style, above his imaginary pouch.