Page 10 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

Maverick

I stood just outside Gabrielle’s front door next to the big plant pot with an evergreen shrub in it, which was up a flight of stairs and on a small deck, since her cousin and her son lived downstairs.

It was challenging to keep my gaze level when I handed her the cold towel, but I managed.

I really wanted to drop my eyes and check to see if I could catch a glimpse of her bare thighs, but like a gentleman, I resisted.

“Can I help you?” came a curious, almost hesitant voice from the bottom of the stairs.

A pretty blonde with hazel-green eyes and a standoffish wariness about her, stared up at me, waiting.

Which cousin was this?

“Hi.” I offered her a wave. “I’m Maverick. A friend of Gabrielle’s and the kids. Damon messaged me to come play video games with him again after school. I was here for dinner last night.”

“Is Gabrielle not home?” she asked, not offering me her name.

“She is. I was just inside, but she spilled tea on her lap. I offered to step outside so she could run from her bedroom to the bathroom with privacy.”

The woman’s gaze turned even more confused. “What?” She was already climbing the stairs, then pushed past me when she got to the top and entered the house. “Gabs? It’s me, Dani. Are you okay? There’s some guy here claiming to be ‘Maverick’ and a ‘friend’. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Gabrielle said from beyond the bathroom door. “He’s not a trespasser. Put away your shotgun, Danica.”

Ah, so this was Danica.

I stepped back into the house, but remained in the foyer while Danica went to go check on Gabrielle. She opened the bathroom door and closed it behind her, but not before I heard a horrified gasp. Crap. Were the burns to the tops of her thighs worse than we feared?

I tuned my ears into their conversation, but they must have been deliberately whispering.

There were bits and pieces around this house that I remembered from living with them in Spokane.

The row of succulents along the windowsill behind the sink.

I think the squat little baby-blue plant pots were even the same.

The throw pillows in the living room. A gingham pattern, I think they called it, in blue and white.

Much like the place in Spokane, Gabrielle went for a modern farmhouse décor with lots of blues, whites, and tans.

The couch was a light-tan microfiber, the walls a warm white, and while there weren’t a ton of decorations, what she did have on the walls made the place feel more inviting and comfortable.

Put together, but not cold. Much like Gabrielle.

Lost in thoughts about what Gabrielle might do to unwind and not be so put together all the time, I didn’t hear the footsteps or voices on the other side of the door until it was too late. The front door opened, hitting me in the ass, and I had to step out of the way.

It was Laurel and one of her female cousins. “Mav, you’re back,” she said, not posing it as a question.

“Hey, Laurel. How was your day at school?”

She lifted one shoulder as she hung up her backpack and jacket on the row of coat hooks. “Aced my math quiz.”

“Nice work.”

Another shoulder lift.

Her cousin simply stared at me with wide hazel-green eyes. She was blonde, and I would put money on her being Danica’s daughter.

“Are you Danica’s daughter?” I asked.

All she did was nod, but her cheeks turned the color of a ripe tomato.

“Your mom is in the bathroom with Gabrielle.” I faced Laurel. “And your mom spilled hot tea on her lap. She’s running cold water on her legs so they don’t blister.”

Laurel’s mix of shock and confusion had me holding in a snort of a laugh.

Danica’s daughter’s expression was similar.

“Mom doesn’t spill anything. She is the most careful person in the world.

I don’t think she’s ever colored out of the lines, or broken an egg yolk in her life.

” She blinked and shook her head quickly.

“I’m pretty sure she was coloring in the lines before she could even hold a crayon properly. ”

I couldn’t hold my snort in any longer. That was the Gabrielle I remembered too.

I think everyone in this house was shocked that she spilled tea on herself—most of all, Gabrielle herself.

The quiet cousin leaned over and whispered something to Laurel. Laurel rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. They weren’t allowed to color. But you know what I mean.”

Weren’t allowed to color? What did that mean?

Laurel ditched her shoes, but took enough time to tuck them on her designated shelf properly, while her cousin placed them on a shelf reserved for guests. I only knew this because that’s where I had also put my shoes. Then Laurel went through the house. “Mom? Are you okay?”

Danica’s daughter—who probably wasn’t a mute, but I’m guessing just shy given that she’d whispered to her cousin—chased after her cousin.

“I’m fine,” Gabrielle called from the bathroom. “How was your day?”

“Aced my math test.”

“Well done, honey. Are you proud of yourself? You should be.”

“It was so easy, Mom,” Laurel said with boredom. “Sam is here too. Can we bake some cookies?”

“That’s fine,” Gabrielle replied. “Hi, Sam, honey. How was your day?”

The bathroom door opened. At this point, I couldn’t see anything, since they’d all disappeared down the hallway around the corner, but I could certainly hear them. “How was your day, my love?” Danica asked her daughter softly.

No reply.

“She’s shy with Mav here,” Laurel whispered.

Crap. I knew it.

I didn’t want to make a little girl feel shy, or like she couldn’t be herself because I was in her safe space.

“I can come back later,” I called out. “Just have Damon shoot me a text.”

Just as I turned to go, my hand on the doorknob, it swung inside and shoved me against the coat rack. One of the hooks stabbed me between the shoulder blades.

“Oh crap! Oh no. Sorry, Mav. I didn’t see you there.” It was Damon, and the genuine remorse on his face was touching.

I grunted and did my best to ignore the pain where the hook had jabbed me. I didn’t think it broke the skin, but there’d definitely be a bruise. “All good, man,” I said. “My bad for standing behind the door like that.”

“Did you just get here?” He hung up his hoodie and backpack, and ditched his shoes, taking far less care to place them properly on the shelf than his sister or cousin did.

“No. I, uh, I chatted with your mom for a bit. I was actually going to head out, but I can come back later.”

Damon looked very confused. “What? Mom? Why? No, stay. I can do my homework when you leave.”

“Your mom didn’t seem too keen on that idea, bud. She said you were pushing your boundaries, and that homework comes before hobbies.”

Damon rolled his eyes and hung his head so his chin nearly hit his chest. “She’s such a tight-ass,” he murmured.

“Hey now.” I gripped him gently by the shoulder, and he lifted his gaze to mine.

“That’s not fair. Your mom is a great mom.

But she has rules, like all parents do. And it’s not like she said I couldn’t come over and play video games.

It’s that she said I could come over after you finished your homework. ”

“What difference does it make as long as the homework gets done?” he argued, going to the fridge and yanking it open.

“It matters because they’re her rules. She could tell you to stand on your head and recite the Pledge of Allegiance before you get to play video games, and you should do it.”

He snorted. “That’s child abuse.”

“Damon,” I closed the fridge so he couldn’t hide behind it, “what’s really going on?”

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t look me in the eye, but his jaw was tight enough that a muscle ticked in one corner.

“Okay, so then maybe I don’t come back at all tonight. If you’re going to have attitude and disrespect your mom. I don’t really want to hang out with a kid who treats his mom like that. Who talks about her like she’s some petty dictator out to make his life miserable for her own personal joy.”

Damon’s cheeks pinked up in color.

I lifted my brows. Waiting.

“It’s nothing,” he said again.

I shrugged. “Okay then. I’ll see you around.

I’m going to go see a man about some cheese.

” Then I opened the door. “Bye, Gabrielle. Bye, Laurel, Danica, and Sam. I’ll see you guys later.

I hope you’re not too burned, Gabrielle.

” I fixed Damon with another look to give him one more chance to open up, but the only thing moving on his face were his flaring nostrils.

“Okay then,” I said again. “Text me when you want to talk and you’ve finished your homework. ” Then I was gone.

I didn’t like leaving Damon like that, when he was clearly upset about something, and if I knew him better, maybe I’d have stuck around longer and pushed, but I wasn’t someone who liked being pushed to open up before I was ready. So I wasn’t about to be a hypocrite and do it to Damon.

I climbed into my truck and shot him a text.

Here if you ever want to talk. Confidential.

Then, I punched “Fred’s Ched Shed” into Google and hit “directions”.

I was going to find a hobby and something to pass my days here on this island if it killed me.

Otherwise, it was inevitable that I’d go stir-crazy fantasizing about Gabrielle, while also waiting for Damon to get out of school so we could hang out.

I needed friends my own age, and I needed an activity to keep my hands and brain busy.

Maybe making cheese was it.

Or maybe I’d have to try all the artisanal classes on the island: woodworking, watercolor, and whatever else Gabrielle mentioned, but I was too busy staring at her mouth to remember.

Luckily, Fred’s Ched Shed wasn’t too far from the vineyard, not that anything was too far from anything on such a small island, but I had to stay in my truck for a few minutes until my erection—a result of thoughts of Gabrielle’s mouth again—deflated.