29. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Steven
I walk past the bakery, and my gaze is inadvertently pulled toward the windows. Scarlett will be working for another hour.
My feet slow, and a gust of wind blows my hair into my eyes.
I push it out of the way, and the girl I’m looking for comes into view, just like a movie.
Her smile is unguarded as she helps her current customer.
Her eyes are bright, and the joy she has for her career radiates from her entire being. My breath catches.
My eyes catch hers, and my gut clenches when her smile brightens. The corner of my mouth tugs up in response. She waves me in, and before I can second-guess what I’m doing, I’m walking through the door.
“I think Marvin is going to love these. Aren’t you, boy?” Scarlett says to the barrel-shaped Basset Hound whose tail is slowly swishing back and forth.
When she pushes the bag across the counter, he lets out a toe-curling bay that has me covering my ears.
“He always does.” Marvin’s owner yells over the bellow.
Taking a treat from the bag, she gives it to the demanding pup.
They make a hasty exit in an attempt to get out before he swallows the treat and starts the screaming again.
Stepping aside, she nods and gives me a smile.
“Thanks Scarlett. We’ll see you next week. ”
“Bye!” Scarlett waves from behind the counter, watching until the door closes before turning toward me. Her smile stretches wider, pulling at my gut. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes are the color of warm brandy, and I feel myself getting lost in them. If I had my way, I’d walk behind the counter, pull her into my arms. Give her a proper greeting.
But, you know, guidelines.
Controlling myself, I lean my arms against the display case and rest my chin on top. “Just got home from practice.”
“Better than yesterday?” She mirrors my position, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon wrapping around me. My fingers itch to push the strand of hair that’s resting against her cheek behind her ear.
“Much. And it turns out you were right.”
“I’m always right.” She huffs, moving her hand an inch closer to mine.
Her fingers are so close that if I stretched out one of mine, I’d be able to touch her. The urge to brush my skin against hers is so strong that I have to curl my fingers into a fist to keep them from getting any ideas.
“Tell me exactly what I was right about this time.” Her eyes glitter, and she stretches out an arm, wrapping her hand around my forearm.
Staring down at her hand, I wonder if she’s aware of what she’s doing. When I don’t say anything, she gives me a gentle shake. “About the scrimmage. Turns out it was exactly what you said it was.”
Her hand tightens on my arm, and my throat works.
How is it that a simple touch from her can turn me into a bundle of nerves? My gaze lifts to hers, and the only thing I see is excitement at what my news could be.
“I’m going to—”
‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’ barks blast throughout the bakery, and I jump. Scarlett giggles and gives my arm another squeeze as she mumbles, “You Bennett brothers.”
Before I can ask what she means by that, she’s greeting her current customer.
Not wanting to be in the way, I take a seat at the nearest table and let myself indulge in one of my favorite pastimes. Scarlett watching.
The way she focuses on what the person is saying. Her ability to make them feel like they’re the only person in the world. It’s a gift.
My gaze drops to her mouth, watching it move. I don’t hear a single word she’s saying. When she pulls her lip between her teeth, I suck in a slow, deep breath.
Lifting my head, my eyes slam into hers. A sharp current shoots through me, and I swallow hard.
“You said Jasper has chicken allergies?” She questions before turning her attention back to her patron, who nods. “Let me look in the back to see what I have.”
Scarlett’s shoulders rise slightly before falling again.
“Steven Bennett?” My eyes focus on the man in front of the counter. “I thought that was you.”
He stretches his hand out, and I stand up, taking it. He wraps his other hand around both of ours, pumping excessively.
“I’ve watched you since you were in college. Really excited to have you playing for the Wolverines”
“I’m pretty excited too.” I rest my other hand on top of his, and apply some pressure to slow the rising and falling.
He pulls his hand away, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry. My wife always teases me about my inability to control my enthusiasm. If she saw this she’d never let me live it down. Can I get an autograph? No one will believe that you were sitting in the dog bakery without proof.”
“I don’t have a pen or paper—”
“Here you go.” Scarlett slides the two items across the top of the display case. Picking up the pen, she makes sure to include his name as she explains his request. “Tom, I only had four chicken-free treats in the back. I can definitely make some more or do a special order if you’d like.”
Rather than just signing my name, I start with his name and a brief message.
“Huh?” The look of surprise that covers Tom’s face is comical and flattering. The fact that I get the attention I do for playing hockey is something I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to. “Oh. Yeah. This is perfect for now. I’ll have my wife reach out about a special order.”
Scarlett processes the order, and I slide the napkin over the countertop. “Thank you so much,” Tom says, as he distractedly pays for the treats. “Can’t wait to watch you on the ice this weekend.”
He walks out the door, and then turns toward the window, giving us a giant wave with his signed napkin.
“Thanks for being quick on your feet with his name.”
“Of course!” She leans on the display case, chin resting on her crossed arms. “Between Dad, Uncle Dunky, and Aunt Ava drilling the importance of using a name, whenever possible, while giving a signature, it’s become second nature.”
My mouth curves in response, and my ribcage expands. Blowing out a slow breath, I shove my hands in my jean pockets before they reach out and pull her face toward me.
“You were telling me about the scrimmage results just as we were interrupted.”
“That’s right.” I drag a hand through my hair; a sheepish grin pulls at my mouth. “I’m starting against the Hurricanes on Friday.”
Scarlett’s eyes pop open, and she lets out an excited shriek before running from behind the counter, throwing her arms around my neck.
“I’m so proud of you!” The entire length of her body is pressed against me, and the scent of vanilla is driving me crazy. The next words she utters are like a cold shower. “Your dad would be too.”
Pressure builds at the back of my eyes, and I loosen my hold. The promise she made weighs heavy between us. Almost as heavy as the loss of my dad. “Thanks Scarlett.”
“I’m so sad it’s an away game,” she says softly, heading behind the counter, putting the space between us I couldn’t. “I can’t wait to wear your jersey to a home game.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I give it a quick glance.
Miles:
Any updates?
Knightley’s Gambit. The email. The reason for me stopping in the bakery.
“Me neither.” Shoving my hands back in my pockets, I dip my chin. “Scar? Do you have the email for me?”
The light in her eyes dulls, and I feel my throat tighten.
I know why I’m doing this, but the look on her face makes me hate it. Pulling my shoulders back, I remind myself that I didn’t dictate the rules.
“Of course.” Her voice is wobbly as she slides a piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to me. “In all the excitement I forgot.”
I’d like to forget about it too, and just be honest. When did it become so hard to just say what I feel?
“Thanks.” My phone starts buzzing insistently. “Let me take this. I’ll talk to you later.”
Scarlett nods, her smile holding on by a thread. I wave as I cross the threshold, answering the call.
“Hey.” Taking my apartment steps two at a time, I unlock the door and slide my shoes off, tossing them next to the front door. “What’s up?”
“What’s up!” Miles gawks.
“Weren’t you supposed to call or text with an update?” Wyatt chirps.
“Why are the two of you together so much?” I grab a can of Coke from the fridge and take a swig. “Don’t you have practice?”
“Avoidance.” Miles teases. “We’re too late, Wy.”
Snorting, I shake my head. “Not avoidance, just second-guessing. It doesn’t feel right—”
“Now isn’t the time to chicken out again, little brother. You’ve done that your entire life.” Wyatt chastises. “It’s time to execute the game plan you’ve been given, and finally get the girl. You got this.”
Scrubbing my hand up and down my face. I groan. He’s right, but I still don’t like it. “I have the email.” I rake my hand through my hair. “Should I reach out first?”
“No!” Miles shouts. But then his tone takes on a mischievous hint. “Let’s have Emma chase her Mr. Knightley some, shall we?”
My lip curls up. Miles is enjoying all of this a little bit too much.
“Scarlett’s calling me now. You just sit back and wait for her email.”
Three beeps sound in my ear, and I drop the phone on the couch. The thumping sound hits me deep in the chest, knocking the breath from me.
My head falls on the back of the couch, and I finally say the thoughts I’ve been internally struggling with since I first learned the truth.
“I know you had good intentions, Dad, but you’ve really made a mess of things.” Heaving out a sigh, the rock sitting in the pit of my gut grows. “Maybe you could somehow fix it?”