4. Soleil
SOLEIL
Dear Diary,
There is truly nothing as revitalizing as a fresh, new notebook.
I wish I had better news to write about today, though.
Today was kind of…off? A mixed bag. The good news is the best-looking man I have ever seen in my life walked through the door of Locally Forked just before I left this morning.
The bad news is I heard Dave say he’s the new assistant coach of the Comets.
So I didn’t have much time to stare at his gorgeous face and sexy leather jacket before finding out he’s off-limits.
Dean Rafferty. What a name! The weird news is that he acted like he knew me and he asked me if I wanted him to teach me how to skate.
Which is so weird, because I have been thinking about learning to skate recently.
But Noah’s hockey buddies were there, so I figured I might as well just leave it alone.
And by it I mean his beautiful hazel eyes and strong jawline.
I did regret the way I treated him a tiny bit, but I figured Dad would probably be inviting him over for dinner at some point, so I’ll see him again.
Except I couldn’t stop thinking about him when I went for a walk at the park.
It was a nice day. Pretty cold, but I could see little buds on some of the trees.
When I passed by the outdoor rink, I thought about what that guy said about thinking we were supposed to meet there when it opened.
And I thought, Well—shit. When have I ever met anyone that good looking before?
Never? And why did I have to be such a little turd to him?
I figured I might find myself at the arena tonight, see if he’s playing a game with Dave and those guys.
I would grab Jessie, and we could stop by there after getting a drink at The Penalty Box.
I just didn’t feel good about the way I treated him.
It didn’t reflect well on my dad or the town, now, did it?
I felt it was my duty as the coach’s daughter to at least apologize for making fun of him.
And also I really wanted to see him skate.
And by that I mean I wanted to see what his butt looks like while he’s skating.
And then the craziest thing happened. I randomly decided to stop by Good Earth Market on my way home from the park to buy some apples so I could bake a pie.
And guess who I saw in the produce section?
He was just standing there, kind of spaced out, holding an orange in each hand.
I myself was mesmerized by his butt in those jeans.
I bet he’s skated backward a lot in his life, because those cheeks were twin hills of absolute professional dedication.
I need to remember to tell him about Bridget’s pants-alterations business.
It was then that I decided I did want him to teach me how to skate.
I’d figure out the Dad piece of it later.
Finally, I walked over to the other side of the produce stand to grab a paper bag and select some apples, pretending like I hadn’t seen him.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed him sniffing the air and then looking up at me.
Like he could smell me or something. Hopefully he liked my homemade fragrance.
He looked happy to see me at first and then just… sad. And then kind of dick-ish.
He gave me a little nod, and then he looked down at the oranges in his hands like he didn’t realize he was squeezing them.
“Knock, knock,” I said from the other side of the produce display.
“Who’s there?” he asked, with a cocked eyebrow.
“Orange.”
“Orange who?”
“Orange you gonna tell me if you went to the Beaver Lodge or not?”
Cute, right?
I thought I was hilarious.
Dean Rafferty, it seemed, did not. “No. I did stop by Whisk It Good to pick up oven mitts, though,” he said as he proceeded to fill his basket with navel oranges.
I wandered over to his side of the display. “Are you afflicted with scurvy? Because they do sell Vitamin C supplements here.”
“No, I got a Fluicer yesterday,” he said, kind of loud, like duh, I should have known that. “I’m going to make fresh orange juice.”
“Fluicer?” I exclaimed. “You hardly know ’er!”
Nothing from him. Nada. He didn’t even smile. Just looked sad again and continued adding oranges to his basket.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I was rude this morning,” I said.
And then I surprised myself. I decided to just come right out and tell him that I thought he was good looking but then I’d heard Dave say he’s the new assistant coach for the Comets and I told him that I’m Coach Barrett’s daughter.
I could tell he already knew that. But he did look kind of surprised that I said what I said.
“I appreciate you saying that.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t want to be presumptuous…I mean, you might not even be interested in dating me, but obviously it wouldn’t be a good idea for us to date.”
“Correct” is all he said.
“Correct that you aren’t interested in dating me or that it wouldn’t be a good idea for us to date?”
“Yes,” he said. And then he turned away from me and carried his basket to the checkout counter.
I could not believe how rude he was being! And I also could not believe how much better his butt looked when he was walking away from me! What an amazing new form of torture for my ego and eyeballs!
But I was determined to turn things around.
I just didn’t want him to turn around, because then I wouldn’t be able to see his butt anymore.
“Hey,” I called out. He stopped in his tracks for a second and then kept walking.
“Hey. You offered to teach me how to skate earlier, and I’d like to take you up on your offer,” I said, catching up to him.
“It’s not a good idea,” he said, staring straight ahead. “I’m busy.”
“Well, which is it? Is it not a good idea or are you busy?”
“Yes,” he said again.
“Oh my goodness. What the hell is your problem?”
His very strong jaw got very, very stiff. Like he was trying hard to stop himself from saying something. He looked down at his basket, looked around the store, then nodded once and just placed his basket full of oranges on the floor and walked out the front entrance.
I followed him. Because, “Seriously?!”
He kept walking out to the parking lot.
“Dammit!” I muttered.
He barely glanced back at me and said, “What?”
“I forgot to buy apples!”
“Then go back inside and buy apples.”
“I’m not going to! How do you like them apples?!”
“Doesn’t matter if I like them,” I think I heard him mumble as he took out his keys and unlocked a white Chevy Malibu.
Obviously it was a rental, but of course I couldn’t resist making fun of it.
He told me he had a 1970 Dodge Challenger when he lived in Calgary.
Said he got it pretty cheap and fixed it up when he had time.
Said she was a beauty. That it taught him how to have patience and faith while he worked on her, consistently.
He sounded so wistful when he was talking about that car.
I almost felt jealous of the car because he seemed to care about it so much.
And it also sounded like he worked on her really carefully.
Ugh. How crazy is that? He said he was advised to sell it because it wasn’t a practical car for Kenton.
“Ooof,” I said. “I bet it wasn’t easy to make the decision to let her go.”
He finally looked me straight in the eye and said, “It really wasn’t. She’s irreplaceable, but…it’s the practical thing to do. I will always have regrets…but that’s life.”
“Boy, you must be fun at parties,” I said.
“I used to be,” he said as he opened the car door. “I used to be.”
I told him again that I’d like him to teach me how to skate.
And he said, “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not the guy for the job. I have no doubt you’ll find someone else soon.” And then he got in his car, buckled up, and drove away.
I went back into the store and bought a pint of ice cream instead. Ate the whole thing in my car in the parking lot. Now I’ve got tummy troubles.
So, thanks a lot, Dean Rafferty.
The next time I see him I will just keep walking.
Well.
I’ll walk slowly and angrily behind him so I can see his butt, but I will not talk to him.