Page 24 of Game Changer (Wynn Hockey #5)

Molly

I’m doing what I want, and I’m going to have fun.

I survived another flight and we’re in Winnipeg.

All I know about Winnipeg it that it’s the home of the Jets. Jax laughed at me when I asked him if I needed warm clothes for this trip. Then he admitted that I would need a sweater or hoodie for at night, as it gets cool up at the lake.

And sure enough, it’s a beautiful day as we leave the airport in another rental car, warm and sunny. Jax’s first stop is visiting his grandparents.

“I don’t need to meet your grandparents,” I tell him. “Maybe you can drop me off somewhere. A shopping mall or something.”

He eyes me. “You sure?”

“Yes. The fewer people who know about me being here, the better.”

“Huh. I guess that’s true. Okay, there’s a new outlet mall not far from them. I’ll leave you there and pick you up in a couple of hours.”

“That sounds good.”

Not that I need to do more shopping. I’ve reclaimed my belongings and now have ample clothes, toiletries and my beloved Kindle. But I can hang out there and grab something to eat.

He points out the modern new condo building where his grandparents live as we pass it, then turns into the parking lot of the mall. We make a note of which entrance we’re at and he says he’ll pick me up at four o’clock. Apparently it’s about a three-hour drive to the lake.

I pass a couple of hours easily, with a stop at Starbucks and an impulse purchase of a pair of shoes that are fifty percent off at Saks Off Fifth.

Jax smirks when he sees my shopping bag. I toss it in the back seat and climb in. “What’s so funny?”

“You like shopping, don’t you? I could tell that day at Target.”

I pull my seatbelt down and across my body. “Yes, I admit it. But we’re going into the wilderness, and I won’t be able to shop, right?”

“Um…not exactly.”

“There’s a shopping mall at the lake?”

“Not a mall, no. But there are shops.”

“Oh. Cool! Now I’m even more excited.”

He laughs and pulls out onto a wide street heading west. “I don’t know if they’ll be your kind of shopping.”

We pass the drive chatting and listening to music. I gaze around in fascination as we cross the prairie, flat and open, the sky enormous above us. Farmland stretches out on either side of the highway.

Jax turns off the Trans-Canada Highway to head north on what is called the Yellowhead Highway, and we pass a town called Gladstone. There’s the cutest statue with the name “Happy Rock” painted on it.

“Get it?” Jax asks. “Happy Rock? Gladstone?”

“Ha ha. Hilarious.” It is funny

Then we arrive at Neepawa.

“Are you hungry?” Jax asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Good. There’s a drive-in here we can stop at.”

It’s also cute. Jax orders a ton of food including a hamburger, perogies and onion rings. I stick with a burger and a milkshake, but I pilfer one onion ring. We eat at a picnic table on the small patio, then climb back in the car.

“Are we almost there?” I ask plaintively.

Jax laughs. “Yeah. Not much father.”

This part of the drive is a change of scenery, with huge rolling hills and valleys, and more trees. Finally we arrive at our destination—Riding Mountain National Park.

“We have to make one stop before we go into the park,” Jax says, turning off the highway and into the parking lot of a hardware store. “We need booze.”

“Um, at the hardware store?”

He grins. “Yep.”

We pick up beer, wine and tequila, then we’re back on our journey and entering the park.

We actually have to wait in a line of cars at the booth, where Jax purchases a seasonal pass.

In a moment, we’re cruising through a quaint little town with shops and restaurants and log cabin structures. Not what I expected!

“This is Wasagaming,” Jax tells me.

We round a curve and drive along the lake. It’s now evening, but still fully daylight with lots of people strolling the beach and walking the sidewalks.

“That lake is amazing!” I gaze at the incredible blue in awe.

“Clear Lake,” Jax replies. “The town name, Wasagaming, is a Cree word meaning clear water. We’ll see more of it.”

We progress a couple of blocks, and Jax turns left into a driveway and rolls to a stop.

Made of logs, and with a big fieldstone chimney, the cabin sits nestled among tall pine and aspen trees.

On one side, Craftsman-style tapered columns with fieldstone bases support a wide porch.

It’s old-world picturesque, like nothing I’ve ever stayed in.

Jax carries our suitcases to the door of the porch and fishes a key out of his pocket.

After unlocking the door, he pushes inside with the bags and I follow behind.

Through another locked door, we enter a big living room.

Here I see the fireplace the chimney is attached to centered on the wall, built of the same fieldstone.

A big window on one side and sliding doors on the other side look out onto a deck, and beyond that the lake.

The walls, ceiling and floor are all wood, out of date but charming.

“The place is a little old fashioned,” Jax says apologetically.

The furniture is clearly well-used—upholstered sofas and chairs, antique tables and a worn rug on the floor.

It’s clean and cared-for, though. The kitchen is open to the living room, with an antique hutch, a round dining table surrounded with pressback chairs, and cabinets that probably date back to the 1950s.

“It’s amazing.”

“My grandparents don’t get up here much anymore, and neither do my mom or her sister, but they don’t want to lose the cottage. These things are passed down for generations here in the park.”

“I can see why.”

“There are three bedrooms, like I promised.” He grins. “You can have the master bedroom.”

“No, no, you take it. You’re family.”

“There’s only one bathroom, unfortunately.”

“We’ll survive.”

He wheels my suitcase into a small bedroom with lots more wood paneling. A pretty quilt covers the bed, and a bookcase holds tons of books. “I love it.”

“The sofas in the living room all make out into beds, so this place can hold a lot of people when needed.”

I run my hand over the white dresser and admire the framed photograph of a sunset over the lake on the wall. “That must be Clear Lake,” I say, nodding.

“Yeah. I took that, years ago.”

“Oh, really?” I look closer. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

Now I notice there are a lot of nature photos which are all probably Jax’s. “I’m sure you want to take a lot of pictures while you’re here.”

“Yeah, I hope so. If you want to wash up and unpack a bit, go ahead. I’ll open things up and meet you out on the deck.”

I use the bathroom and change into a pair of cropped leggings and a loose tank top. I eye the bed longingly. After traveling all day, I’d love to stretch out there. But I’ll go see if Jax needs any help.

When I walk out onto the deck in my flip flops, he hands me a glass of wine.

I smile with delight. “Thank you!”

Then I spy a lounge chair. Jax has already arranged cushions on the all the furniture, bless him. I head straight to it, adjust the back so it’s reclining, and flop down onto it. I let out a gusty sigh. “Okay. I’m in heaven.”

I’m looking out over the lake, through some trees and bushes, although there’s a path leading to the beach. I think I can see a wooden dock, and I’m eager to explore more at some point. Right now I’m content to lie back with my wine and enjoy the view.

Jax takes a seat, a beer in hand. “Yeah, this is pretty nice.”

“Totally different from California. And yet…kind of the same too. Nature and water and peace. It’s beautiful.” I breathe in the air, cool and scented with fir trees.

“I loved spending summers here. Riley and I had friends here, and we’d ride our bikes all over and get in trouble.”

I smile at that. “What kind of trouble?”

“Nothing illegal. We caught minnows. Once I stuffed one down a friend’s shorts.”

I laugh.

“Caught crayfish. We’d build little ponds to keep them in along with the minnows. Raced our bikes, tipped each other out of canoes, bought bags of candy at the store.”

“That sound so…wholesome.”

“Tomorrow I’ll chop some wood for the fireplace. And we’ll need to pick up food.”

“You’re going to chop wood?” I lift my head to stare at him.

“Sure.”

“Eek.”

“What?”

“Don’t cut your foot off. That would end your hockey career.”

He laughs. “I’ll be careful.”

He’s changed too, into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He crosses one ankle over the other knee in a relaxed pose, gazing out over the lake also. His face is peaceful, his mouth curved into a slight smile.

He’s a beautiful man. Physically, of course; I’ve admired his hard-packed abs, strong shoulders and muscular thighs and butt.

His face is lean and sculpted, with thick eyebrows, carved lips and cobalt eyes that all the Wynns seem to have.

I always knew he was fun and charming, popular with everyone.

But now I’ve had glimpses at what’s beneath all that, and I think he doesn’t let on how much he feels things because he feels them so deeply.

He’s caring and thoughtful and intelligent, and that just makes him even more attractive.

I shouldn’t be attracted to him.

I’m hyper aware of him sitting near me. The only sounds are the rustling of the aspens, birds chirping, a squirrel squawking crazily in a tree. It’s so hard not to reach out and touch him. I grip my wine glass with both hands and stare determinedly forward.

“I hope you won’t get bored here,” Jax says.

I roll my head toward him. “We just got here.”

“I mean, after a while. It’s pretty quiet here. We won’t be partying or shopping or having spa days.”

“Jeez. Is that what you think of me? Parties and spas and shopping sprees?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant. But you said yourself, you’re a city girl.”

“It’s beautiful here. I won’t be bored. Don’t worry about me. Just do what you want to do. I don’t need babysitting.”

“You’re hardly a baby,” he mutters.

I’m not sure what he means by that. He almost sounds angry. Hmm.