Page 10

“Flock!” A jolly voice rang out from across the road.

We’d made it into town, and Tuft Swallow was alive with people going about their business. Popping in and out of the shops lining Main Street and swapping gossip on corners.

We both looked up. Wally Hawkshank, one of the oldest residents in town, strode over, his hand outstretched in greeting.

“Flock, son, so good to see you. Heard about the leg. Just wanted to wish you a speedy recovery.” The grizzled old man pumped Brody’s hand like he was drawing water from a standpipe. I stopped and put my toes on the ground to balance my bike.

Brody’s cheeks glowed. “Thanks, man. I’ve got it under control. But I appreciate it.”

“Well, I just wanted to say hello. Let you know we’ve all been rooting for you. I’ll be seeing you around.”

The old man stepped away, and I winked at Brody. “Look at you. We better be careful in case you get mobbed. Maybe you should hire a bodyguard while you’re here.”

Brody flipped a look at me. It was a cross between “I know, right?” and “Don’t mock me.”

I snickered, picking up one pedal with the top of my foot before setting off again.

“Ro…” he said, more quietly this time, and my gut clenched at the gentle roll of my name on his tongue.

“Look! It’s Flock!” came another, younger voice. Some whoops and a couple of howls followed it. A group of school kids that were gathered in the town square rushed over to join us, their backpacks bashing against their spines as they ran.

“Way to go in the cup last year,” said one.

“Didn’t know you were back in town,” said another. “My dad’ll be buzzed. He’s followed you for years.”

“When you heading back to Denver?” asked a third, giving him a solid high-five. “You here to watch the game in Robin Springs?”

They all looked at Brody like he was the second coming, jostling to have their chance to speak to him. Their eyes glowed with adoration. As the kids squabbled to be near him, one pretty young girl fought her way to the front of the group, waving a black Sharpie in her hand.

“Sign my shirt?” she asked, presenting her surprisingly ample chest to him. She batted her eyelashes like a pro. She couldn’t be older than sixteen.

Brody studied her with a cheeky smile. “I think you should turn around, don’t you? I’ll sign the back.” With a dramatic eye-roll, the girl flounced around, sticking her tongue out at a giggling friend. Brody still had the power to break young hearts.

I sucked in a breath, allowing the scent of the spring tulips in the park to wash over me. I loved spring. It was a chance for rebirth, a bit like Brody’s career. He’d been on hiatus with his leg, and now he was ready to return to the big time. If this fan club was anything to go by, he had the full support of the town behind him.

It’d always been this way, though. There wasn’t a day growing up that I hadn’t seen him somewhere, somehow. Or heard people talking about him. The small-town boy done good. He was Tuft Swallow’s answer to Wayne Gretzky. There’d always been posters up in town before his matches in the junior league. And the screenings of his NHL matches in the Crow were always full. He was a titan in our little town. A treasure.

If I was honest, though, I had it as bad as everyone else. I’d stopped filling my Flock scrapbook around the time he left, but my heart still jumped when I saw him on the news or in the paper. Or when Coop talked about him.

The high-pitched giggle of Sharpie girl jarred me out of my thoughts. She was showing off the newly signed back of her school shirt to the crowd. Brody was busy penning his signature onto the caps of a few other boys, and as he leaned down, thegirl, full of bravado now, closed in, giving him a peck on the cheek. She blushed fuchsia and ran away to shrieks of delight from her friends.

I grinned. I couldn’t help myself. It was seriously like cycling down the street with Elvis or Harry Styles.

Brody brought his gaze to mine, and the crinkles I adored spread from the corners of his eyes. The girl wasn’t the only one blushing. His cheeks wore a healthy pink glow. As the surrounding gaggle dissipated, I shook my head slowly.

“What?” He bowed his head a little.

“Wow. It’s like taking a puppy for a walk. You can’t go five feet without someone stopping to pet you. Do you think we’ll make it to the Easy Swallow before dusk?”

His chuckle carried in the crisp air around us. “Are you jealous? Would you like to tickle my tummy, Ro? I might growl, but I promise I won’t bite.”

I ran my eyes over his sexy smirk and the dimple on his cheek. Damn him and his teasing. He wouldn’t bite, huh? Well, wasn’t that a pity? Not that I subscribed to anything kinky, but allowing Brody Flockhart to bite me might just be the exception.

5

RO

Brody left me and headed off to find the gym downtown. I leaned Daisy Three against the wall and stepped into the Easy Swallow, the town’s oldest but best-loved diner. A little bell tinkled above the door, and the smell of fried food and milkshakes rolled into my nostrils. I closed the door behind me, the steady hum of chatter competing with the music playing on the radio.