Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Daisy
I stared down at the check, the crisp paper in my hand, the number printed on it almost surreal. The grocery store deal had worked out in our favor.
This is for you, Dad. Fulfilling a dream you once had.
It wasn’t only about the money. This represented months of work. Early mornings and late nights in the orchard. Pruning the trees. Painstakingly caring for them according to Dad’s meticulous notes. Worry stacked on top of responsibility until I could barely breathe under it some days.
Now the black ink printed on this check proved that we’d made it through another harvest, a good one. For once, we were ahead.
Knox leaned back in the driver’s seat of his father’s truck he’d borrowed once we dropped the delivery truck off at the grocery distribution center. We’d just delivered the apples, and he had one arm draped casually along the seat.
“How’s it feel to be rich?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
I let out a long breath, shaking my head as I folded the check carefully between my fingers.
“This isn’t exactly get-rich money, although you were right.
The produce manager gave an extremely favorable deal I never would have imagined for selling wholesale.
He said they enjoyed doing what they could for the regional economy by supporting local growers.
He insists I call him next year again. And it means that my sisters and I don’t have to hustle our asses off this fall and winter selling apples in our spare time. ”
“Feels good, right?”
“Temporarily. Every dime of this is already spoken for. Property taxes, bill catch-up, paying Henry and Carl, supplies for next season, a few things my sisters need… the list goes on.” A smile tugged at my lips despite myself.
“But yeah. It feels good. I just wish Ash would let me pay you guys for helping with the harvest.”
“Nah. We didn’t do it for the money. We did it for you.”
I hesitated, then met his eyes. Big mistake.
His gaze burned into me, the temperature in the cab of the truck rising by the second between us.
“Thanks, Knox. For everything. Making that call to your dad, setting this opportunity up.. Driving me down here, and borrowing the truck from the store.” I huffed a quiet laugh.
“The list of things I owe you for is getting kind of long.”
His cocky smirk couldn’t be misinterpreted. “I’ve got a few ideas on how you can thank me.”
Goosebumps crept across my neck. I pushed open the truck door before he could say anything else to fan the flames he’d ignited in me.
“I’m sure you do. And on that note,” I chuckled, stepping out into the cool air of the parking lot, “I’m going to go into the bank and deposit this before you get any more ideas.”
He laughed behind me, and I didn’t look back as I headed toward the bank doors, the check clutched in my hand and my pulse racing.
By the time we made it to the arena of the Montana Frostbite, the parking lot had filled with trucks and cars. People streamed toward the entrance in jerseys and boots, wearing the colors of frosty blue and orange, the energy of the crowd buzzing in a way that felt bigger than anything back home.
I zipped up my jacket as we walked inside, glancing about at the chatter, the movement, the sheer number of people.
“All of these people for one hockey game.” I shook my head.
“People are passionate about professional sports. For an expansion team to end up here in Montana is a big deal. You’ll get used to the crowd. By the second period, you’ll be cheering and dancing in your seat.” Knox assured me.
“Don’t hold your breath,” I quipped. “And how many periods are there?”
“Three periods of twenty minutes each. Two intermissions,” he explained. I calculated less than two hours to suffer through this. “You don’t know much about the sport?”
“Definitely not.” Truth was, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something like this for purely entertainment. Any outings I took typically revolved around work or responsibility or making sure everything stayed afloat.
Knox handed the tickets to the attendant inside the entrance. We passed through security and headed to our seats through the crowd. It turned out, our seats were front row, along the glass, perfect center view of the ice.
“After the game, you’ll get to meet my brother,” he reminded.
“Ah. The famous Maddox Alexander. I’ll finally see why women swoon over him.”
He winked. “The same reason why you swoon around me, sweetheart.”
“Oh, is that what I’ve been doing this whole time?”
“Yep, maybe locked deep inside of you, but I think I’m wearing you down day by day.” He stretched and rested his arm across the back of my seat.
As his fingertips brushed my jacket along my shoulder, I took in his profile from his prominent forehead down his nose, to his full lips not too hidden under a beard and mustache.
He’d pulled his hair back tonight in a man-bun, and I wasn’t sure which I preferred, but his locks loose and free always made my stomach flutter.
Late at night, alone in my bed, I imagined running my fingers through his hair.
An attendant appeared by his side on the aisle with a blue and orange gift bag in his hand. “Knox Alexander?”
“That’s me.” He twisted to take what was offered.
“Compliments of Maddox Alexander.” He left it with us.
“Let’s see what we have here.” Knox opened it and read a card aloud. “‘Don’t think this gift is for you. It’s for that pretty woman by your side, asswipe. Signed, Maddox.’ That cocky fucker.” He pulled out a jersey with the name Alexander on the back of it.
“For me?” I exclaimed.
“You’re not wearing it,” he grumbled and set the bag on the floor, practically kicking it under his seat. “He’s just playing around.”
“Why shouldn’t I wear it? You have a Montana Frostbite sweatshirt on.”
“Because of the rule, sweetheart. You wear a guy’s jersey, he claims you as his. Nah, he meant as a joke just to get to me, but I’ll be damned if he claims you before I do.”
I snorted and laughed. “What do you mean, like that silly rule ‘you wear a cowboy’s hat you ride the cowboy’ sort of thing?”
“Exactly.” His jaw ticked.
“It’s not for real. I could wear any man’s cowboy hat or jersey, but it doesn’t mean he’s claimed me unless I decide it’s so.”
“What does a man need to do to claim you then?” He glanced down at me with all the seriousness of a situation I couldn’t allow myself to be in yet.
Fortunately for me, the lights of the arena turned off, leaving only spotlights floating around. The announcer came over the speakers. “Let’s get ready for the Montana Frostbite!”
The scoreboard flashed, MAKE SOME NOISE! The decibel level of the crowd on their feet rang my ears.
“This is wild,” I shouted to Knox, who smiled and clapped.
“Yep, and I’m glad you’re here to experience it with me, sweetheart.”
It hit me. I could think of no one else I’d want to do this with. Over the past year, he’d truly grown into a good friend, someone I didn’t know I needed to count on, who’d always shown up for me. If that wasn’t the true mark of friendship, then I didn’t know what was.
There’d always been an attraction between us that I denied over and over again, but I couldn’t anymore. At least, not tonight. I loosened up, and joined in, clapping and taking it all in, determined, for once, to enjoy myself with him.
The players were each announced with extra fanfare and skated around. Women in the seats beside us went absolutely nuts for Maddox—especially when he skated right up in front of us.
He smiled and nodded at Knox. He waved at me. He pointed with his glove to the gift bag and then to me with a cocky grin.
Knox shook his head, and called him an asshole. But the brothers both laughed as he skated away. I liked seeing their interaction.
Throughout the first period, Knox answered all of my questions. As a hockey newbie, I had plenty. The pace of the game itself went faster than anything I expected. I didn’t glance at the time once.
Players flew across the ice at speeds I wouldn’t dare clock.
The crack of sticks and the sharp scrape of skates cut through the roar of the crowd.
I tried to follow the speeding puck, and keep up, but it was a lot.
We drank sodas and shared a huge nacho plate, more like Knox ate most of it while I nibbled.
And yes, I danced in my seat when the music got the crowd going.
I’d go as far as admitting I was having fun, for once.
During the second period, the announcer read off the sponsors for the night. My nerves bristled at the mere mention of Congressman Brewster as one of them. To make it worse, his big head filled the screen of the Jumbotron.
My hand had found my phone before I registered the motion.
I stared at it for a second, confused, before I understood—old reflex.
Years ago I'd trained myself to document fast, to capture a date and a time and a location of any interaction with a Brewster before the moment could slip away.
I put the phone back in my pocket without opening it. That was a long time ago, not tonight.
A video played of the congressman on the Jumbotron—Trevor at his side, both men smug in Frostbite jerseys over their expensive suits.
“We love supporting the Montana Frostbite. There’s nothing better in the region for wholesome family fun than a hockey game.” came Congressman Bruce Brewster’s soundbite.
I snorted. I couldn’t outrun these damn Brewsters for trying. Even here, on a night like this, away from home, they followed me.
“Hey, are you okay?” Knox must have noticed how stiff my body got. He glanced up at the screen and back at me. “What is it about the Brewsters? Every time—”
“Sorry, I need the restroom.” I jumped up quickly, needing a break from it all. He let me by and I ran up the steps and out into the corridor. I slipped into the restroom and exhaled once I had locked myself away in a stall.