Page 17 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

Gabrielle

Thursday, the kids came home from school, and unlike yesterday, Damon’s mood seemed to be lighter. He even said “Hey” to me when he came in the door.

“How was your day?” I asked, rolling lasagna noodles through the hand-crank pasta machine.

He shrugged and sat down at the dining room table across from Laurel, who quietly did her homework. “Fine.” Flopping open his binder, he flipped to a blank sheet of loose-leaf, then opened up his math textbook.

I didn’t want to push, but at the same time, after our conversation last night regarding the kids at school and their limited knowledge of our past, I was very curious to know if anything else had come up.

“Can Mav come over tonight?” my son asked after about five minutes of him sitting there doing his homework in silence.

“Once your homework is done.” I fed another sheet of dough through the two rolling cylinders to flatten them.

Damon grunted. “Almost done.” He used his thumbprint to open his phone and shot off a text. Presumably to Maverick. “Can he come for dinner too?”

“Did he ask if he could come for dinner?”

“No.” Damon’s voice cracked, and he went red in the face. “I’m asking if I can invite him.” He lifted his gray gaze to mine. “Please, Mom.”

I only hesitated a moment before nodding. “Sure. Invite him over.”

“Thanks.”

An uncomfortable thrill filled my belly at the thought of seeing Maverick again.

I finished up with the lasagna noodles, cleaned my mess, then got to work assembling the casserole.

I probably looked a mess. Once I stuffed the lasagna into the oven, I headed to the bathroom.

“What time did you tell Maverick to come—”

Knock, knock, knock.

Oh, shit.

“That’s him,” Damon said, shutting his binder and math book. “I just finished my homework too.”

I couldn’t remember the last time my son had so much excitement in his voice. He practically leaped from his seat at the dining room table and dashed for the door. Laurel had long since finished her homework and was now reading in her room.

I ducked into the bathroom to check my hair and makeup.

Meh .

Could be better, but not as bad as I feared.

I wore my chestnut-brown hair in loose, chunky waves over my shoulders like I always did, and my makeup was subtle—as always.

I gave my cheeks a quick pinch, slathered on some tinted lip balm, and sucked in a deep breath before heading back out to the living room.

“Maverick, so nice of you to join us again,” I said, unable to keep my gaze from traveling the expanse of his broad back, and to where he filled out his jeans— nope!

Don’t go there.

He spun around, plastering on an enormous smile. “Hey! Smells amazing in here. But it always does in your house. Thanks for having me over again. I hope it wasn’t an imposition?”

I shook my head. “It’s lasagna. There’s plenty to go around.”

His focus drifted down my body, stopping on my lap, and his mouth dipped into a frown. “How are your thighs?”

For half a second, I didn’t clue in to what he meant. Then it dawned on me. I wore loose, flowy trousers to keep the fabric from accidentally rubbing against my burns. “They blistered pretty badly. So I have some loose gauze on them right now. Itches.”

He nodded and regret filled his gaze. “I’m really sorry.”

“Not your fault at all.”

Could we please get off the topic of my legs? Off me entirely?

My son made a noise of discontent in his throat. “Come on,” he said, shooting me a look like I was showing Maverick naked baby photos of Damon or something equally “cringe ” as the kids called it. “We can play in here.”

Maverick cast another smile with a glittery-eyed glance at me before following Damon into the living room.

I heaved a heavy sigh and returned to the kitchen just as my front door opened. Raina and Naomi both walked in, inhaling deeply.

“I thought I smelled lasagna,” Raina said, bobbing her brows up and down.

“Gabs does make the best lasagna,” Naomi added.

“Is this your way of procuring an invitation to dinner?” I asked with a wry smirk.

“Who’s that?” Raina asked, ditching her shoes and coming into the kitchen. She was smart enough to drop her voice to a whisper. “He is very nice looking. But quite young. Older than Damon though.”

“That’s Maverick Roy,” I said, getting the salad spinner out of the cupboard. Now that we had more people around our table—because my cousins and their kids would absolutely be staying for dinner too—I needed to wash more lettuce.

“The hockey player? Your hockey player?” Naomi asked.

“He’s not my hockey player. He’s a hockey player. For the Portland Storm. And he was our hockey player whom we hosted when we lived in Spokane and he played for the Chiefs.”

“What’s he doing here?” Raina asked, going to the half-full wine bottle with a stopper in it on the counter and bringing down three wineglasses from my cupboard.

“He came here to visit us. He’s doing rehab with Maz at Unger Wellness.” I gave her a curious look. “He’s staying in one of the McEvoy cabins. Doesn’t your boyfriend tell you anything?”

Naomi rolled her eyes. “Their relationship is new. I doubt they do much talking .”

I snorted.

“Jagger is still recovering from his injuries. We talk plenty,” Raina retorted almost with regret … or frustration in her voice.

“He shattered his kneecap, nose, and face, but I didn’t think he broke his dick,” Naomi teased.

“They’re pretty private about their guests in the cabins,” Raina said, trying to change the subject from her wild sex life with the bearded lumber-snack in glasses.

“You also could have told us that he was here visiting. Why’d you keep it a secret?

” She was very good at turning the tables and deflecting.

However, as someone who argued for a living, I wasn’t going to take the bait.

All I did was shrug. “Didn’t think it was newsworthy.”

“Right.” Raina handed me a glass of wine, kept one for herself, and gave the third to Naomi.

“What’s Danica up to?” I asked.

“Telehealth meeting with a counselor for Sam,” Naomi replied. Concern filled her gaze. “Did you guys know Sam’s anxiety was getting as bad as it is?”

Raina and I both shook our head.

“Dani told me the other day. I had no idea.” My heart ached, not only for my cousin, but for her daughter as well.

That had to be so scary and stressful for both of them.

Not to mention exhausting. Parenting neurotypical children with no serious mental health issues was fatiguing enough.

I couldn’t imagine having to parent a child with such debilitating anxiety.

The self-harming stuff was frightening too.

“I’m glad they’re finally getting her help,” Naomi replied.

I started cutting up the lettuce for the Caesar salad, and like I knew they would, my cousins jumped in to help without even being asked. Naomi got to work on the garlic bread, while Raina found my recipe card for Caesar dressing and started rummaging through my fridge for the ingredients.

We were done in no time and opening up a new bottle of wine while we waited for the lasagna to cook. “Where are Austin, Honor, and Marco?” I asked as the three of us sat down at the dining room table with our wine and watched Maverick and Damon play hockey on the PlayStation.

“Marco is downstairs finishing his required reading for the night,” Raina said. “Much to his chagrin. But it’s a non-negotiable if he wants to play video games.”

“Honor is doing the same, since they’re in the same class,” Naomi added. “And Austin is …” She shrugged. “I rarely know where that feral child is. I think he said he was going to go practice his Hacky Sack in the yard. But it’s dark now, so who the hell knows.”

As if summoned by the simple mention of his name, Austin appeared through the front door. His cheeks were extra rosy and his green eyes bright. His sister was right behind him, as well as Raina’s son, Marco.

“And there they are.” Raina smirked.

The oven timer for the lasagna went off and I got up to go check on it.

The top was a perfect golden-brown canvas of bubbly, melted cheese.

My mouth watered a little as I used my mitts to pull it out of the oven.

It would still need to rest for a bit so I wouldn’t be scooping out lasagna soup from the pan, but it was cooked through. I set it on top of the stove to rest.

Marco and Austin already had their shoes off and were joining Damon and Maverick in the living room. They grabbed the other two controllers, and soon, all four guys were engrossed in a pretend game of high-stakes hockey.

When I rejoined my cousins, Honor had disappeared to find Laurel.

“He’s so great with the kids,” Naomi remarked, her voice lower, but not low enough because Maverick craned his neck around to throw a big smile at all of us.

Then he waved. “Hi! I’m Mav!”

“Hi, Mav!” Naomi and Raina said at the same time, amusement in their voices.

They faced me again, their eyes aglow.

“That would be fun ,” Naomi said, whispering now so Maverick didn’t hear her. “Like a ride at Disneyland. Not something you want to be on forever, but fun for a little while.”

I glared at her. “Shut. It.”

She snorted and sipped her wine, her green eyes glittering over the rim of her glass.

Raina stayed quiet, which was unlike her. I turned to our youngest cousin, who was in the best, happiest, most fulfilling relationship of her life. “Nothing to say?”