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“The Mayor, you mean. We elected him last year after a nasty campaign. We all figured he’d do a better job than the human candidates.”

I stared at Ro. What the hell was she talking about?

She rolled her eyes at me. “That guy is his owner. Winston’s Hot Daddy.” She spelled out the words like I was a kindergartner.

I snickered into my chest. He may be “hot,” but I wondered if he’d happily dig into his pockets to buy a new manger for Jesus?

I followed Ro up the steps and onto Mrs. Woodcock’s enormous porch. The glow from the lamps above bathed the wooden platform in light, and patchwork quilts covered an array of chairs and benches. The hot daddy GI Joe guy had already settled in. He whistled tunelessly as he pulled handfuls of roughly spun yarn from a bag.

Another woman grinned and waved a hand at Ro. She had an arm full of pretty tattoos and a blue streak in her hair. She had a giant blanket spread on her lap made of turquoise and orangesquares. I turned to find a chair, but Ro stopped me, gripping my wrist. The warmth of her fingers infused my skin.

“Rowena!” A voice came from inside the house before the screen over the front door opened. Mrs. Woodcock reversed out onto the porch, carrying a tray of glasses. The sight of her buttoned-up floral dress transported me back in time, and I shifted my feet as if I’d broken one of her garden ornaments or ruined one of the town festivals. It’d happened before.

“Mrs. Woodcock.” Ro’s face lit up when she saw our hostess. She moved to take the tray from the old lady, but I beat her to it. “I brought someone new along tonight. To learn to crochet.”

Our hostess swung her steely eyes toward me and gave me a full top-to-toe assessment. The corners of her mouth tilted up when she made it back up to my face.

“Well, I never. Young Brody Flockhart has returned to Tuft Swallow.”

I opened my mouth to point out that I wasn’t exactly young anymore, but before I could speak, she turned to Ro.

“This is a delightful surprise. You should have told me, Rowena. I knew Brody was staying with you, but I didn’t know he had an interest in yarn work.”

Maggie must’ve told Mrs. Woodcock about my visit, but she wouldn’t have known about the deal between me and Ro. About the roller derby, or the gloves.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a date,” she continued.

Ro’s eyes widened, and she looked on the verge of choking, her cheeks reddening.

“It’s not a date,” I said, earning a quick glance and what I judged as a grateful smile from Ro.

She let out a breath. “No. Not a date. Not at all. Never.”

Mrs. Woodcock smiled. “Well, then you must be looking for something or someone to keep you busy until you return to the big time. I’m sure Rowena can help you with that.” The old ladylifted her brow, and damn if I didn’t feel mycheeks heat. What was she insinuating?

Ro nodded. “Yes, Brody needs a project. To occupy his mind. I thought of crochet.”

Mrs. Woodcock’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, yes. Idle minds and hands are the devil’s workshop, and I know what a prankster you can be, young man. Rowena, why don’t you get yourself set up while Brody helps me with the lemonade?”

With a half-smile, Ro took a seat on a small bench on one side of the porch. I followed Mrs. Woodcock to a table set against the wall. It already held a jug of icy lemonade and a plate of cookies. I placed the tray down with a clink and moved off to join Ro, but the old lady put a wizened hand on my forearm. “It’s lovely to see you. And with Rowena, too. Sometimes I worry about that girl. So sweet. So naïve. Tell me, are you making yourself at home at Maggie’s place?”

The skin on the back of my neck prickled. In lightning-quick time, our conversation had moved from worrying about a sweet, innocent girl to whether I had my feet well and truly under the table at Maggie’s. Potentially making myself a little too comfortable. Did she mean with Ro? I know I had a reputation, but I was hardly Ted Bundy.

“I’m mostly trying not to get in the way. I have a lot of things on my mind at the moment.”

She sighed, examining my face. “Of course you do. I’ve read all about your injury, but I’m sure you’ll be back on the ice soon.” Mrs. Woodcock leveled her gaze at me. “But just remember, when you return to the big time, there’s still a lot to love about your hometown. A lot of warmth for you here. People who think of you often. Who care about you, very much.”

I blinked. Who was she talking about? Since my folks moved away, the Swans were the only people I had an actual connection with. Cooper, Maggie, and… Ro? No, she couldn’t be talkingabout Ro. We’d hardly spoken in five years. We weren’t even close anymore. But the idea of my best friend’s sister thinking of me at all wrapped around me like a warm hug.

I drew my brows together before glancing back at Ro. She sat cross-legged on the bench, her yarn in neat bundles, chatting to the lady with the blue in her hair. She had a crochet hook tucked into one of her long braids and an array of little brown crochet spheres scattered around her on the cushions. I had to smile. She hadn’t been joking about her owls looking more like potatoes.

Mrs. Woodcock gently squeezed my arm, and I looked back at her smiling face. “As I say, a lot of warmth. Now, let’s get you organized.”

I followed her to the seats, the crickets in the grass accompanying the beat of our steps. A few latecomers had arrived now, and judging by their sheepish smiles and waved greetings, they’d recognized me.

“Thank you, Brody,” Mrs. Woodcock said before placing a hand on the small of my back. “Everyone, I want you to say hello to our newest Dirty Hooker. Some of you may know him as Denver Snow Storm’s ‘Flock’ Flockhart, but we know him as plain old Brody when he’s here in Tuft Swallow. He’s one of the town’s brightest success stories.”

I fought a laugh. Or its most oversized ego. I wasn’t sure everyone saw my on-ice swagger as success.