Page 16

Only if you want to get bit

Remy

Beast was still in isolation at the doggy day care, so I needed to find time to get to the shelter with him. If he walked enough with other dogs, he might not need to be separated while he was at the day care. Otherwise I might as well leave him in a crate in the apartment.

“You’re as antisocial as me,” I warned him as we drove back from the dog day care. He growled.

At the estate, or whatever the hell you called it, Hanny followed me through the gate and up to the carriage house. I got out and opened the back door of the extended cab, grabbing Beast’s leash as he launched himself out of the truck.

Hanny, standing beside his Porshe and staring at the property, whistled. “This is some place.” Beast caught sight of him and growled. Hanny moved his gaze down till he found my dog. “What kind of dog is that?”

I shrugged. “He’s a rescue. I haven’t done his DNA to find out what breed.” The vet in Saint Martin had enough trouble just getting his vital shots done without losing a finger.

He took a couple of steps closer, eying Beast with caution. “The name suits him. Should I pet him?”

“Only if you want to get bit.”

He looked at me and laughed. “I can see why you chose him.”

Beast chose me more than the other way around, but I let it go.

“This is where the luthier works?”

I nodded and led the way. As usual, Sophie had the door open. I rapped on the frame and looked inside.

Sophie was leaning over her bench. There was a guitar or part of it in front of her, but I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing. I rapped again a little louder, and she turned with a start.

“Oh, Remy! Everything okay?”

Beast grumbled, then sat.

“Hanny, the guy with the guitar, is here if you have time to talk to him.”

She blinked and looked back at what she was doing.

“I’m sorry.” Hanny stepped up beside me. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. Is there a better time to come back?”

She pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail and brushed it behind her ear. Her posture straightened. “No, it’s fine. Come on in.”

I nudged Beast and we walked in, Hanny following us. Then I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I leave them to talk guitars on their own?

Hanny was his usual charming self. Sophie lifted his guitar, a Gibson Hummingbird, out of its case and they talked about it for a while.

I took the opportunity to examine the shop.

There was a board of instruments, kind of like what I’d seen set up for someone who worked around the house.

There were a couple of larger machines—I had no idea what they did—and pieces of wood, glue and clamps, everything clean and well cared for.

There were guitars hanging up, as well as the one on the central workbench, which had the strings off and looked bare and empty.

A laugh brought my attention back to Sophie and Hanny.

They were standing close, examining something on a tablet she had on the far worktable.

I was tempted to tell Hanny to step away.

I checked the doorway, in case Otts might appear and blow up again at another of his players getting close to his ex-wife.

Was that why I’d come in here with Hanny? I didn’t need to do that. And seeing Hanny and Soph comfortable together was unsettling me, though there was no good reason for that either.

“I’m going to go upstairs with Beast. You can find me when you’re done here.” Beast stood, ready to go.

Hanny looked up with a smile. “I’ll come with you. Sophie is working.” He turned his smile toward her and a frown pulled down my mouth. “Please go ahead with that work. You obviously know what you’re doing, and I just want it to sound good when I play.”

Sophie was already looking at the guitar she was working on. “I’ll let you know when it’s done—maybe send it with Remy. I don’t always hear when someone buzzes the gate.”

I felt better with that suggestion. Hanny shot a glance my way, smirking at me. “Sure, or I’ll come over with him. You have a pretty secure place here.”

“It’s my brother’s. I don’t need this much privacy, but he does.”

“Nice meeting you, Sophie…Trent?”

Sophie shook her head. “No, I’m Sophie Williams again.”

“I’ll remember that.”

I was ready to drag Hanny out of there by his hair. Beast was growling again as we headed up the stairs.

Once inside the door, I took Beast’s collar off and waited to see if he considered Hanny a threat. I was irritable, but I couldn’t let Beast really hurt someone. I rested my weight on one foot, ready to block him if he headed toward my teammate, but the dog went straight for his food bowl.

I toed off my shoes. Hanny did the same, looking around the place.

Wherever he was living in Austin, it was more impressive than this.

I had no complaints, but this place was kind of small and I hadn’t done anything to make it personal beyond setting out Beast’s things.

It was like a hotel suite for long-term stays.

But Beast was allowed, and I was in the middle of a secure estate.

I wanted to stay here for the season, assuming the team kept me around and Otts didn’t flip out about it.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Hanny said with a grin.

“Oh fuck off,” I answered. “Have a seat. I can give you water. With ice.” Because that was in the fridge door. The grocery order should be here soon, but I hadn’t been expecting to entertain.

“Sounds good.” He poked his head into the bedroom and bathroom and came back to take a glass of ice water from me.

I poured some water for myself and joined him in the living room, settling on the couch since he’d taken the chair. Beast trundled over with the remains of the towel Sophie had given him. I needed to replace that for her.

“You are the very definition of low maintenance, Rem. How long have you had the mutt?”

Beast grumbled but settled in the corner and began to chew up more of the towel.

“A few months. We weren’t in the playoffs, so a bunch of guys from the team went to the Caribbean after the regular season was over.”

“And you went with them?”

The cottage hadn’t been ready—there was still ice on the lake, so I’d needed to fill time. “I’m not a hermit.”

Hanny scoffed. “Right.”

I ignored that and continued the story. “I found Beast. He’d had a rough time.” I shrugged. “The vet there was going to put him down. Not enough money, too many other dogs to deal with. So I paid to get him fixed up and brought him home.”

More grumbles from Beast.

“Obviously you didn’t fall for his looks.”

We both looked at Beast. Fair comment.

We talked about the team chances, what other teams were expected to be doing this season, until I got word that the grocery delivery truck was at the gate.

Once the food was brought up, Hanny helped me put things away then drank one of the beers I’d ordered, before insisting we go out to O’Malley’s Irish Pub.

He messaged in the team chat I’d mostly ignored for the past couple of days to say we were headed there and dragged me to the door.

“Don’t forget I’ve got the dog.”

“Take him out to do his business, then he should be good for a few hours. That’s what people do. Or does he have some kind of condition?”

Beast was now snoring on the remains of the towel.

“Last time I left him alone here he was barking. I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

Hanny frowned at the sleeping dog. “You got a camera or something for him?”

“Ordered but not here yet.”

“Why don’t you ask Sophie to let you know if he’s causing problems. And if he does, you can come home.”

I hadn’t messaged her after the text she sent me about Beast barking last time, but the idea made sense. I pulled out my phone.

I was going to go out, but don’t want Beast to bother you. Let me know if he barks?

Maybe she hadn’t added me as a contact.

This is Remy.

In a moment, the dots on my phone let me know she was answering.

I’m going to the house soon, so I won’t hear him. Want me to check on him after a bit?

It’s okay, I won’t be long.

Despite what Hanny might think, I didn’t want to be a hermit staying here with the dog whenever I wasn’t at the rink. I picked up Beast’s leash, and he sat up when he heard the clank of the clip.

My phone pinged.

If I find Goober bothering him, I’ll take her away.

That made me smile. Beast might be a weird dog, but Goober was just as strange.

“Sending love notes?”

I looked at Hanny. “No. Talking about obnoxious animals.”

Once Beast had peed, after examining most of the bushes in the area before selecting one, I returned him to the apartment, checked his water bowl, and left him chewing on the towel again.

There was a local pub, O’Malley’s, owned by a former player that Hanny said was a team hangout.

We drove in his car to his place, a condo in central Austin, then got a ride to the pub in case we drank more than was safe for driving.

The team would be pissed if any of us got a DUI.

In some cities, hockey players got special treatment, but I wasn’t sure that would happen here.

Driving drunk was stupid and irresponsible anyway, so it was a better thing for the community in general if no one got preferential treatment.

The pub looked like Irish pubs I’d found across the US and Canada. Lots of wood, and dim light that was difficult to adjust to after the bright sun outside. The beer was good, the food so- so, and since the hockey team was known to hang out here, there were fans and puck bunnies.

The two goalies, Laplante and Constantine, were already there.

I sat beside Lappy, doing my bit so I could tell Otts I was trying.

Stryker Bell ended up the center of a group of locals.

The newbies, the guys from the farm team, didn’t seem to have gotten the invite, but a lot of the defense, like Johanssen, and forwards like O’Leary showed up.

Since I’d arrived just in time for the first day of training camp, it was my first chance to get to know the other players.

Lappy didn’t talk much. I asked him how camp was going for him.

He frowned and said, with a thick French-Canadian accent, “Slow, please?”

“Comment ca va?” A big smile crossed his face, and he spoke quickly in French. I had to hold up a hand. “Je parle petit.” That wasn’t correct, but I was dragging up the bits of French from school that had stuck in my head.

His expression fell. “Me, little English.”

Did anyone on the team speak French? He must have been playing in the Quebec major junior system or he’d have had to pick up more English. Traveling from Quebec to the southern US where no one spoke French would be tough. He was good at covering his lack of comprehension—I hadn’t figured it out.

I dug up my phone, and using a translator was able to ask him if he was doing okay, had a nice place to stay, and told him that I’d help him as much as I could.

“In practice, you play well,” I said. It hadn’t been hard to see why the team had drafted him with their first pick, and why they hoped he could help after Pahlsson’s departure.

But it was a lot of pressure on a young goalie, and the language barrier would make it worse.

I wasn’t offering help because of Otts now, but because the poor guy needed something.

It didn’t take long before a young woman caught his attention. Some things didn’t need a lot of words to be communicated. Lappy left, and I hoped his evening helped him settle in Austin.

I was never a social guy, but it was nice to hang out with some of my teammates. I listened more than talked, but it was still a good time. I liked the vibes I was getting with this team.

At one point, I did get a text from Sophie. She heard barking, and I prepared to call for a ride to deal with it. But her next message said she found the cat on the apartment doorstep again and dragged her away. I thanked her and kept an eye on the phone though, in case Beast caused more problems.

I didn’t get another message, and it was strangely disappointing.