Page 28 of Clear Shot (Lauderdale Knights #9)

Aiden

After doing most of the things we said we were going to do, it occurs to me that we have neither toilet paper nor towels nor anything else to clean up with.

And we’re both a mess. We just finished another round in the pool and now we’re soaked.

It’s warm out but we’re going to need to dry off before we can get back in my SUV.

“I don’t think we thought this through,” Hana giggles, resting against me.

“Not entirely, no.” I hug her to my side. “Regrets?”

“Hell no.”

“Same.” I stare up at the blue sky. “Welcome home, Mrs. Barbeau.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barbeau. And thank you for those heels. I love them. You didn’t have to replace them, you know.”

“I wanted to. You seemed so sad that they were ruined.”

“I saved up a long time to buy them,” she says. “It was a bucket list thing to own a pair.”

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way—I’m happy if you’re happy—but what’s special about them?”

She chuckles. “They’re a status statement, like someone who can afford Louboutins has made it. And I wanted to feel like I’d made something of myself with my last job.”

“You’ve made something of yourself even without the job,” I point out gently.

“I know. But it was important to me that I purchase a large ticket item like that myself. I didn’t want my brother to buy them for me or something.”

“So… you didn’t want me to replace them?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I love that you did that for me—I absolutely love them! The point was that I earned my first pair myself. The fact that the hurricane ruined them is separate. I still earned and bought them. It was a point of pride for me. Celebrities wear Louboutins.”

“And you.”

“And me.”

We sit quietly for a while, letting the sun dry us off.

Eventually, I sit up and reach out a hand to her. “We should probably get dressed and head back to Johan’s. We need showers, and I’m starving.”

“Me too.” She gets up and we pad back into the house, collecting our clothes and getting dressed.

“We need to order all kinds of household supplies,” I say. “Everything from paper towels to toilet paper to laundry detergent and everything in between.”

“We also need towels,” she says. “I think we need to go a store for that. Ordering cleaning supplies is one thing, but I need to touch towels. They have to be soft and fluffy against my skin.”

“We can run to the mall after we get cleaned up if you want. And then we can go to dinner. I don’t know if I’ve ever taken you out to dinner.”

“You just bought me a million-dollar house,” she replies. “I think I’m okay with the trade-off.”

I loop my arm around her shoulders as we walk out to my SUV.

Shopping has never been my thing, but I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the day shopping for items to make our new house into a home.

My apartment notwithstanding, I’ve never had one.

Certainly not growing up, and while I’ve always had a place to lay my head as an adult, it was never what I’d call a home.

Those were simply places to keep my stuff and sleep at night.

The house I just signed the papers on is something else.

This is the beginning of the rest of my life—the life Hana and I are going to build together. We took a round about way to get here but now that I have her, I know it’s what’s been missing in my life.

I never felt this way with my first wife.

I thought I loved her, and we had a lot of fun together for a while, but my feelings for her were superficial compared to what I’m starting to feel for Hana.

Hana makes me want to be better, to move past the ugliness of my childhood and look toward a life both with and without hockey.

She even makes me forget that I suffer from depression. I haven’t had a moment of true blackness since we got married, which says a lot. The meds work well, but there’s usually twinges of darkness a few times a month. Hana and I have been married for over a month and there hasn’t been anything.

I’m not stupid. I’ve lived with this disease long enough to know it’s coming, but I also feel a lightness I’ve never experienced before, and that can’t be a coincidence.

She’s good for me.

And I want to be good for her.

“These,” she says as we stand in front of a huge wall of towels at a local department store. She plucks a thick white towel off the shelf and squeezes it, pressing it against her face. “Yup. We need some of these.”

“How many?” I ask. “And what colors?”

“I don’t know. How do you feel about shades of green for our bathroom?”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I don’t care as long as the entire house isn’t pink. And if that was super important to you, we’d find a compromise.”

She smiles and when she does, it lights up her whole face.

She’s so pretty I can’t resist stealing a kiss.

“I think six,” she says, turning back to the shelf. “Four in this sage green and two white.”

“Okay.” I let her hand me the thick, fluffy bath towels as she searches for the matching hand towels and wash cloths.

As she’s doing her thing, I spot something interesting on a shelf.

It’s a bathmat made from diatomaceous earth stone and is supposedly non-slip, fast drying, and antimicrobial. Whatever that means.

“Hey, look at this,” I tell her. “We should get these for all the bathrooms. They seem better than just putting a fabric towel or rug down.”

She studies them for a few minutes, reads everything, and then nods. “Let’s get three.” Then she’s off, looking at rugs and waste baskets.

Nearly a thousand dollars later, we have more than we can carry and I leave her at the entrance while I go get the SUV. We pack everything in the back and she slides into the passenger seat with another huge smile.

“That was fun,” she gushes. “I’m sure you hated it but?—”

“I don’t hate anything when I’m with you,” I interrupt quietly.

Her eyes fly to mine, and right before I put the car in drive, she leans over and crushes her mouth to my lips. I kiss her back with as much passion as I can muster up here in the parking lot of the mall.

“I don’t hate anything when I’m with you either,” she says.

“Where should we go for dinner?” I ask after a long moment of staring into each other’s eyes.

“Let’s go to Cicero’s,” she says. “They’ve been so generous with their time and money, let’s go spend a little on them.”

“Sounds good. I love the food there.”

I turn toward the pizzeria and pull into the parking lot ten minutes later.

“Looks busy tonight,” I say.

“Good.” She gets out and we walk into the restaurant hand-in-hand.

“Hey, guys!” Jordan is sitting there with Felix and a couple of the rookies.

“Join us!” Felix calls.

I shake my head. “Sorry, fellas—it’s date night.”

They all start to boo and I just laugh. I love my teammates, but tonight is about my wife. I can spend a full week with them on the next road trip, so she’s my priority while I’m home.

We settle into a booth by the window, and the waitress brings us a basket of their garlic rolls. It’s a favorite of mine but the minute she puts it down Hana makes a face.

“Ugh—what’s on those?”

“Garlic?” I ask questioningly. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know but they just turned my stomach.”

Well, that’s a bummer, but I don’t care. I shouldn’t be eating a lot of bread during hockey season anyway. I take the basket and drop it off at Jordan’s table before coming back to Hana.

“Done,” I say.

“Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Your stomach still bothering you?”

“On and off.”

“Maybe you should get a physical or something. You’ve been through a lot of changes the last few months.”

She claps a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. “Goodness. Maybe I do need a physical.”

“We’ll get to bed early tonight,” I promise.

Her eyes glitter. “Don’t make a promise you know you’re not going to keep.”

I arch my brows. “Four times this afternoon wasn’t enough?”

“Is that a serious question? There is no number that’s ever going to be enough.”

“And for the most part I agree, but we have to sleep sometime.”

“I suppose.” She leans forward on her elbows. “We have so much to do for the new house, though. My mind is racing.”

“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving,” I say, “so let’s put it all on the back burner until?—”

“Seriously?” She wrinkles her nose. “We need to go to the house when we leave here to drop everything off. Then we’ll go home and start a list of absolute necessities. We’re basically starting at zero, thanks to the damn hurricane.”

“By the way, I’m going to get a nice check from the insurance company, so we can stock up on everything we need.”

“Great.” She starts to pull out her phone, but I gently cover her hand, stopping her.

“Hey. Date night. You and me. There will be plenty of time to think about the house tomorrow.”

“You’re right.” She nods. “So… what time is our bed arriving on Friday?”

“Around ten, I believe. Why?”

“Because I think we’ll be breaking it in by eleven.”

This woman is absolutely my soulmate.