Page 6 of Holiday Crush
“I know,” Mazie assured me in a comically monotone voice. “It’s almost four o’clock now. Did you want me to help tidy up or—”
“No, that’s okay. I got it. See you tomorrow, Maze.”
Stacy cocked her head curiously. “You sure you don’t mind closing alone?”
“Positive. Go on. I’ll be fine. I’m going to listen to murder podcasts while I scrub coffee mugs.”
“Have fun.” Stacy thanked Mazie when she held the front door open, turning back to whisper, “Court used to be on the Bingo crew. Why not ask him?”
I checked to see if anyone was looking and clandestinely flipped her off, rolling my eyes when she blew me a kiss.
Of course, Stacy stopped to chat with Court and someone just out of my field of vision, gesturing at her belly before hugging Court and speed-waddling toward her car.
I braced myself, wondering if he’d come into the shop and wondering what the hell I’d say if he did. Wait. No, that was silly. We were adults, and I’d blossomed into an expert conversationalist over the years…if I did say so myself. I welcomed a meeting with Court.
I caught my reflection in the coffeemaker and practiced my friendliest smile, adding a pinch of nonchalance before turning toward the door and—
He was gone.
End of sighting.
I took a breath and chastised myself for being an idiot. But after a quick internal examination, I was happy to report that I felt nothing out of the ordinary. No heart palpitations, no sweaty extremities, no butterflies. Just curiosity.
Sure, it was almost Thanksgiving, but it was also hockey season. What the hell was Court Henderson doing in Elmwood?
* * *
A few days later,I still wasn’t sure why Court was home.
There was a rumor going around town that he’d retired and another that he was in the process of changing teams, but neither explained his timing. Hockey players didn’t retire in November unless they’d been injured. Did they? And wouldn’t his parents want to celebrate? I hadn’t heard a peep from Henderson’s Bakery next door. And if Court was changing teams, wouldn’t they need him at practice?
I wasn’t exactly a hockey expert, but something was missing.
Stacy had actually spoken with Court, but she didn’t have a scoop and her true focus these days revolved around impending motherhood. As it should.
But me? Still curious here. So I gave in and googled him.
I found a lone article from Charleston’s local paper,The Post and Courierwith exactly one line stating that the Sea Snappers had parted ways with defensive powerhouse Court Henderson. That was it.
No reason, no speculation, no footnote.
Odd, but I didn’t dig any deeper. I was a busy man. And after putting in long-ass days at Rise and Grind, I was exhausted by Friday.
I kicked leaves as I shuffled toward the coffee shop at five a.m., not bothering to hide my monster yawn. There was no one on the streets and—
“Bon matin,Ivan.”
I jumped and whirled around on the sidewalk. “Holy fuck! You scared me.”
“Hmph. I brought you a croissant from Henderson’s to apologize for making fun of your pumpkin art. Before you ask, my boyfriend made me do it.” JC shoved a bakery bag into my hand and winked. “I still think it looked like a white hairy testicle.”
“Thank you.” I beamed a sunny smile I’d bet my next paycheck would earn me a growl. And there it was.
“It’s not me you should thank. It’s Riley,” he assured me.
“Heisa lot nicer than you.”
“Agreed.”