Page 6

Chapter Six

“Season exit interviews are expected any time now. Some speculate the delay is indication of a shake-up in team administration.” Renegades Rinkside Report

Novy

According to Uncle Google, the nearest store was less than a mile away, and I was in no rush to get back to my grumpy new roommate. I turned the shopping trip into a walking adventure and took my sweet time. I dialed Scout enroute. Since she was responsible for my current situation, she owed me entertainment as I made my way down the sidewalk.

She answered before the second ring in a rush of words. “He has an amazing apartment, right? Has to. I bet it’s an amazing building. He signed a sweet deal a couple years ago; he’s gotta be spending his millions somewhere.”

I glanced around, taking in the assorted multistory buildings, a mix of brick and fancy facades, many with ground level shops. Streetside parking spots dotted with newer model sedans and a few pristine SUVs and pick-ups thrown in. Nothing as dated as my Honda.

“The apartment building is pretty discreet. We entered through the guest parking under the building, but other than taking a ticket, no real security. I was surprised.”

“Huh,” Scout said. “That is surprising. What’s the inside like?”

“Boring.” I pictured the black couch, the chrome and glass table, the modern light fixtures. “Pretty much the expected bachelor black and chrome stereotype on full display.”

Scout sighed dramatically in my ear. “Oh, the disappointment.”

“And an empty kitchen. Bottled water in the fridge, that’s it. He must order out for everything.”

“During the season, the team chef sends meals home with a lot of the players.”

“That makes sense, I suppose. Keeps the players on a diet the team wants and the players probably appreciate not having to figure out every meal.” I swerved to avoid getting caught in the leash between a dog and their human.

“If you say so, Ms. I Have A Degree in Diets. Sounds boring to me. What, hockey players never get cravings? Never feel like they’ll die without a peanut butter bagel?”

“I think you and Dahlia have the market cornered on peanut butter bagels.” One of our newest members had introduced Scout to her new favorite form of breakfast, a toasted bagel topped with creamy, melty peanut butter. A single bite and Scout was addicted. As simple as making toast, but where we grew up, cream cheese went on bagels, not peanut butter. “And it is not a ‘degree in diets’, you dork. Registered Dietician.”

“Same diff.” Scout rambled on in my ear about her mother and California and checking boxes on her path to full recovery as I entered the store. I welcomed the blast of cold air against my face as I left the summer heat outside. I worked my way through the produce section, picking out packages of bright red cherry tomatoes, spinach and blueberries.

When Scout paused for a breath, I asked, “What did Berry say about the lease?”

We’d spoken briefly to our derby captain before signing on Boh Zacha’s dotted line, and the captain called to check on Scout every morning. Beryl Lester, aka Hell Berry, and Scout knew each other as kids, both having come from the Three Corners area. They lost touch until Berry moved to Richland. She took her responsibilities as derby captain seriously and Scout’s injury hit her Mama Bear tendencies dead center.

“She’s heading over with Kitty and Sugar to check the place out today.”

“I hope it’s amazing and makes up for me having to live with the rudest roommate ever.”

“That bad?”

“So bad.” I wandered down a couple more aisles as I whined to Scout. “Grumpy, feet on the furniture, ignores common courtesies, bad. He’s got great counter space in his kitchen, though.”

“Oh, well, counter space , huh? Better wife that man right up.”

“You mock me, but I could make some really good content in his fancy kitchen. And my channel could do with a change of pace.”

Scout burst out laughing, loud enough I had to pull the phone away from my ear. Thank goodness I’d not put in my earbuds. Shopping finished, I headed to the check-out counters. “Scout Pendleton, you can kiss my ass.”

“Now I’m wondering how long until he’s kissing yours. You know what they say, the way to a man’s heart—”

“ Blech .”

The highschool kid scanning my groceries looked up at my obnoxious sound and I pushed a reassuring smile out at the boy even as I groaned at Scout again.

For the last twenty-four hours, she’d done nothing to help me forget the hot factor of the man I would be living with for the foreseeable future. I would make the best of Boh’s great kitchen, all his lovely counter space. I’d make use of the gorgeous granite-topped island and sparkling range and create some amazing content for my nutrition socials. Might as well be productive, right? And keep my mind off the tantalizing specimen of man I’d be sharing space with. Too bad he had the personality of chayote squash. All prickly and rude on the outside and who knew what on the inside.

“I’m going to remake the meal he ruined for you as soon as I get settled in,” I told her.

“They feed me here, you know.”

“But I put together some great recipes, all geared to get your head straight again.”

“My head is fine.”

“No more headaches?”

“Nope. Checked that box today, actually. As soon as I clear the concussion symptoms, they’re going to let me check out. Mom thinks that means I’ll be heading to California. Not sure how to break it to her that that is exactly what will not happen.”

“She just wants what’s best for you.” I passed the same person with their dog. We exchanged smiles. I’d have knelt down to deliver scritches if my arms weren’t weighed down with groceries.

“You mean, she’s terrified I’ll be disfigured for life and she’ll be forced to introduce me and my scar at her next dinner party.”

My heart clenched for my friend. “Maybe not.”

“ Any way,” she said and I could hear her eye roll through our connection. “Clyde’s waiting for me to get released and I am not going to fly off to California and make him wait even longer. Hang in there with the hockey stud. You know I’m just teasing you and owe you big for your selfless sacrifice.”

“Yep. Big , big. This is so big, it’s going to take you years to work off the debt.”

“Let’s not go crazy, now.”

“Offered to go shopping, and being polite, asked if he wanted anything. His response was a grunt .” I sighed into the phone as I flexed my elbow to redistribute grocery bags from the burning crook of the arm not holding the phone. “Grunted, Scout. And I committed to three months of this high caliber communication.”

“You bought the Richland Killbillies breathing room to find a permanent place to practice. Maybe once he’s home a while and away from Brightside, he’ll chill.”

“One can hope.” I’d reached the street entrance to the building lobby, but before I could maneuver the bags between my elbow and hand to get the door, an attendant swept it open and welcomed me with a smile. “Thanks so much!”

He nodded and pulled the door closed behind me. “Welcome to The Beacon. You must be the Ms. Dalton Mr. Walsh told me about. Please let me know if there’s anything you need. I left your vehicle tag with Mr. Zacha.”

I wiggled my phone at the kind-faced older man in the navy uniform. He grinned back. “Gotta go, Scout. Call me when you hear from Berry and the girls about the new place.” Without waiting for her response, I dropped my phone back into my purse and shifted my groceries again. “Call me Novy, please,” I said to the man patiently waiting. “Are you in charge around here?”

He laughed, tilting back on his heels with a pat of his flat belly. “I’m not sure that would be an accurate job description. But I’m Frankie. I can help with anything from coordinating plumbing repairs to restaurant recommendations. Feel free to buzz down anytime.”

“I’ll remember your offer, Frankie. When I’m in desperate need of street tacos or a caramel latte, you better be ready to hook me up!”

He herded me toward the elevator, pushing the button like I was the star in some glamorous movie. “Count on me for tacos, Novy, and anything else you might need.”

I was still smiling to myself as the elevator doors closed on his friendly face.

A few minutes later, I shuffled into my temporary digs. I made it to the kitchen and amazingly, still had some feeling in my fingers. I plopped the bags atop the counter, my gaze bouncing across the island and into the living room. A show played on his huge television, something with subtitles, but I was too far away to make out the words. What caught my attention was the man slumped bonelessly into the leather couch.

His head rested back until he faced the ceiling. He had one hand high on his chest, as if his fingers froze in the act of scratching an itch.

An itch on his bare chest.

Had he fallen asleep? In a towel and nothing else? The rude jerk had gone and got naked while I was out shopping.

All pretense of ignoring the gorgeous man evaporated as my pulse catapulted into high gear and heat flooded my system. My fingers dug into the plastic wrapping surrounding the cherry tomatoes, but I couldn’t pull my gaze away.