11. Cal
Chapter eleven
Cal
If I thought my life would continue per the status quo after the bomb dropped yesterday, I was sorely mistaken.
A man couldn’t simply go back to normal when the love of his life reappeared.
Noelle Shepherd was back in town. To stay. And my siblings’ running commentary wasn’t helping matters.
The whole affair had me up in my head. I mean, I hadn’t even noticed that Khia waltzed downstairs in a Tigger onesie, sequined cowboy boots, and a tiara. There hadn’t been time to have her change before I dropped her off at Brett and Laura’s for the day.
Hopefully my morning workout and practice would help matters, blowing off steam by getting the adrenaline pumping. It was better than ruminating on brown eyes and curls I wanted to run my fingers through.
I slammed Van into the boards as we fought for the puck during a scrimmage.
“What’s wrong with you?” he grunted, shoving me back and stealing the puck.
Taking my frustration—and was that hope?—out by pummeling my teammates wasn’t the best solution. But it felt pretty dang good.
My ex-fiancée was in town. We were grown-ups. We could exist on equal planes of civility.
Until she started dating someone.
Was she dating someone now?
And why did I want to punch this metaphorical man in the nose?
That did it. I needed to go on a date. Rip off the Band-Aid. It didn’t mean I had to marry the woman, but it would be good for me to engage in grown-up conversation that wasn’t with one of my sweaty teammates or nosy siblings.
A date.
Talk about out of my depth. I hadn’t been on a first date in over five years. Had the protocols changed? Time to call in the master: my love-cynic little sister.
For someone so anti-romance (until she fell in love with her husband), it was unfair how uncanny her matchmaking skills were.
Maybe she’d work some magic on me.
“Cap, you’re killing us out there,” Max, one of our centers, complained when we retreated to the locker room. “Is this about Noelle Shepherd?”
“Oh, yeah, I heard she was back in town.” Van, a left winger, shucked off his shirt and grabbed a towel. “If you’re hitting me, dude, she must have really gotten to you.”
“Nah,” Jamie piped in. “We don’t need an excuse to hit you. It just comes naturally.”
Van whipped his discarded shirt at the rookie, but Jamie dodged it with a laugh.
I was severely regretting my lapse in judgment a few years ago when I told a few of the guys about Noelle. But they’d gotten out of hand with plans to set me up, so I caved and spilled my guts. Now it was coming back to bite me.
“How do you even know about her being in town?” I demanded. “She got here Saturday night. It’s Monday.”
“Jamie,” Brooks, our other rookie, said without hesitation.
Of course. I frowned at the tawny-headed rookie.
Jamie lifted his hands. “Hey, it was all over The Vine by Monday morning. Just because I don’t live there doesn’t mean I don’t get the news. Myles got me hooked on it, and it’s the highlight of my morning.”
Brooks snorted. “He reads it every morning while eating his cereal.” He and Jamie were roommates, so he would know.
I resented the day Brett decided to code a neighbour community app in high school for the fun of it and let the town use it. The Vine, as he so cleverly named it—grapevine, get it?—had been nothing but a thorn in my side.
“This is a big deal,” Max piped up.
“You’re one to talk,” I snapped. “Stop dancing around Bells and maybe we’ll have this conversation.”
Max reddened. He was absolutely crushing on Arabella Hadley, our PR and social media manager, affectionately known as Bells. They’d grown up together, but he hadn’t asked her out yet.
“Not sure she likes me like that.”
“Welcome to the club,” I deadpanned. “Man up and tell her.” Wow, I was starting to sound a whole lot like Myles, the king of pep talks. Not sure how I felt about that.
“Maybe,” he muttered, heading for the door.
“Uh, Magic? Maybe put some pants on first.”
He glanced down at the towel around his waist. “Right.”
“I’m going to go on a date,” I announced to Myles and Juliet later as we stepped into the elevator heading down to the Palace Arena lobby after a meeting.
Juliet’s eyebrows flew northward, her mouth agape. I’d never rendered her speechless before. This was kinda fun.
She elbowed Myles.
“Geez, woman,” Myles grunted, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. It looked romantic, but I’d bet it was a protective measure to keep her from repeating the gesture.
“Did you hear what I heard?” she demanded.
“I did, and you didn’t need to puncture my spleen to ask me that.” Myles’s lips twitched under his beard.
“With who?” Juliet asked.
I swallowed hard. I did have someone in mind, but I wasn’t sure telling her that would land me on the other side of this conversation with all of my organs intact. My gut reaction said Noelle. Always Noelle. But that was a terrible idea. Logically. Too bad logic had never been my strong point.
Juliet would absolutely have something to say about it. Noelle’s leaving crushed her, too.
My sister tilted her head. “You don’t want to tell me?”
“Smart man,” Myles muttered.
A gleam lit Juliet’s eyes, and she wiggled, trying to tickle Myles’s ribs, but his reflexes were faster. He banded his arms around her waist, trapping her against him, baby bump and all.
“Use your words, Peach,” he said huskily, leaning towards her.
She melted into him with a big ol’ smile and giggled. Giggled! “Which one?”
They were four seconds away from making out, and I didn’t need that visual.
I’d been scarred enough in that department.
Not even Mario Kart was a sacred no-kissing space anymore.
Couldn’t this elevator go any faster? “Uh, still here, guys. Go be mushy in thirty-seven seconds once I’m not in your general vicinity. ”
Because my little sister was who she was and delighted in torturing my life, she did kiss Myles.
But she kept it short . . . ish. Hallelujah.
She flashed me a smirk, and Myles, ignoring my frown, kept his arms around her.
No doubt to prevent further tickling attempts—he was ridiculously ticklish for such a big dude.
“If you don’t have someone in mind, I do,” Juliet said.
“A blind date?” I croaked. Was this what I wanted? Juliet’s help, yes. Juliet’s help without my direct supervision? Might be risky.
Look at what agreeing to a blind photo shoot with Ruby got me.
The headache of a lifetime.
Juliet pursed her lips. “Yes.”
Half of me regretted opening my mouth. That was the downfall of being a verbal processor.
I liked to talk about my decisions before making them, which was hard to do as a solo parent.
Khia was young, and Mrs. Pickles wasn’t a great communicator on the best of days.
Rosie Cotton was moderately more understanding, but she was still just a dog.
Though given her eloquent side-eye glances, I swore she understood me. And she always agreed it was time for ice cream. Couldn’t get a better test of intelligence than that.
The other half of me held on to a twinge of hope that maybe this new endeavour was okay. Baby steps, right?
“And this woman will understand that I’m a single dad and—”
“Do you really think I’d set you up with someone who wasn’t okay with kids?” Juliet scowled. “Trust me, this girl will be the perfect practice date for you.”
“You sound like my mother trying to put me on a playdate,” I grumbled.
Myles snorted, covering it with a dry cough.
“Thanks a lot, man.” I stepped off the elevator. “Two things, squirt.” Juliet’s nostrils flared, but I forged ahead. “You have to run this woman past Myles.” I fixed him with a look, pointing at him for good measure. “Don’t let me down.”
He chuckled, and Juliet sighed. “Fine. And what’s the second thing?”
“It can’t be in Serenity Springs or with a local woman. I don’t want this all over the news.”
Juliet snapped her fingers. “Consider it done. You can trust me.”
Ha, the last time I’d done that she’d stolen my secret ice cream stash from under my nose because of pregnancy cravings. Oh well. The baby had good taste at least, and trusting her was a risk I’d have to take.
Famous last words.