Page 19 of Hockey Halloween
Josh
“You should tell him your shower’s not working.”
I turn to my seatmate, my eyebrow raised in confusion. “My shower works just fine.”
Debbie rolls her eyes. “That’s not the point.”
My gaze darts away from my co-worker and back to the action on the ice.
A major perk of my job as Public Relations Coordinator at Bainbridge University is that I get tickets to home games, which is why I’m here tonight watching the men’s hockey team wipe the ice with the Panthers from Coleridge College.
Unlike my work friend, I’m watching every second of the game.
Well, at least I’m trying to. Debbie keeps talking, but my eyes are on the puck as it glances off Leo Santos’s stick and careens down the ice.
His pass to Dutton Wagner is seamless, and it’s hard for me to believe these guys have only been playing together for a few months now.
Wagner makes a shot on goal, and I hold my breath as it slips past the goalie’s outstretched glove and into the net.
The crowd erupts around us, so I can finally turn back to Deb.
“Explain to me why I should tell my landlord that my shower doesn’t work when, in fact, it works just fine?” I ask, taking a sip of my soda .
Debbie shakes her head slightly, like she can’t believe she has to explain the simplest of concepts to me.
“Because your landlord is a hunk, and if he thinks there’s a problem, he’ll come over to fix it.
And since it’s your shower, he’ll probably be shirtless.
You know, so he doesn’t get his t-shirt all wet when he’s fixing your showerhead. ”
“My showerhead that isn’t broken?” I clarify. “And what the hell kind of plumbers are you hiring? Because where I come from, they wear uniforms or coveralls. They don’t walk around half naked just in case a pipe bursts.”
“Ooh, I bet you’d like to see his pipe burst!” Debbie blurts, unable to contain her laughter. For reference, she’s fully fifty-six and happily married. But she’s also a world-class meddler with a filthy mind.
I shake my head. “Josh is my neighbor. And a father. And one of our esteemed hockey coaches,” I say, gesturing to the bench about twenty rows down from us, at the edge of the ice where my neighbor-slash-landlord is standing with his back to us, a clipboard tucked beneath his folded arms.
“Being your neighbor just means he doesn’t have to drive home after you do the deed,” Debbie quips. “And his daughter is too cute. As for being a hockey coach, well, maybe he could use that clipboard as a paddle. What do you think?”
“I think you read too many romance novels,” I tell her honestly.
Debbie chuckles. “There’s no such thing.”
The horn blows, signaling the end of the game. A quick glance at the scoreboard tells me we maintained our two-point lead while Debbie was ogling one of the coaches and plotting to get me out of my dry spell.
Not that I need help with that.
Okay, I definitely do. But not from Debbie.
And not with Josh Novotny.
I mean, yes, the man is hot as hell. And despite the rocky start we got off to the day I moved in, he’s a very nice guy.
And a wonderful father. And totally my type.
He’s got that whole jock/nerd vibe that I can’t resist. He’s muscular and athletic, but in those glasses? It’s too much in the very best way.
But dating my landlord is just asking for trouble.
Besides, he hasn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in me.
Sure, we talk when we’re both in our shared front yard, and we chat when we see each other at the coffee shop or when I’m taking Kevin for a walk and he’s waiting at the bus stop with Reese in the morning.
We’re friendly. Maybe we’re even friends.
But it can never go further than that, no matter how much I’d love to see how creative that man can get with a clipboard.
“Did you hear me?” Deb asks as we gather our things to leave.
No, I didn’t hear her. I was too busy having impure thoughts about the hottie next door. “Sorry, it’s loud in here. I missed what you said.”
“Do you want to grab an early dinner? I don’t feel like cooking.”
It’s only four-thirty, since the Wolves played an afternoon game, and normally I’d love to have dinner with Debbie, but I have other plans tonight. “Sorry, I wish I could, but I’m meeting up with a friend from college. How about we go out after the next home game.”
“That works for me,” Debbie says cheerfully. “And since it’s Trick-or-Treat night, I may just have fun-sized candy bars for dinner.”
“No judgment here,” I tell her. “Make sure you have some with nuts for protein and you’re good to go.”
My mischievous coworker gets a gleam in her eyes. “Oh, nuts for dinner…now that is a good idea. Carl should be home from work by now, and I think he’ll agree that nuts should be on the menu.”
Debbie cackles as I shake my head. She’s trouble, that one, but I love her. And her husband is a total sweetheart, so I’m sure he’ll be quite happy with her dinner plans.
As for me, I have plans of my own to get to.
I wasn’t lying when I said I was meeting a friend.
Brandi and I were roommates in college and she’s in Annapolis for business.
It’s only about an hour’s drive from Bainbridge, so we’re meeting halfway at a bar called Kirby’s.
And since it’s Halloween, there’s a costume contest. I have a pretty fantastic track record for Halloween costumes, the crowning jewel being my sexy bumble bee costume from a few years back, but I think I may have outdone myself this year.
I’m actually looking forward to going out, and not just because I’ll have fun catching up with Brandi.
I love my job at Bainbridge, and all the friends I’ve made so far, but I’m feeling a little restless.
A night of dancing will fix that. And if I happen to walk away with a prize for best costume? All the better.