Page 18 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

Sincerity glimmered back at me and she shook her head as she sipped her wine.

“While I agree with Nay that it— he would be a fun ride , I also know you’re not someone who does fun .

You’re Gabrielle. You’re levelheaded. You’re cerebral, and nothing you do is ever impulsive or just because.

You meal plan, outfit plan, and everything else plan your entire week.

So, while I think throwing caution to the wind can work for some people, I’m not sure it would work for you.

I think you would end up stressing yourself sick over making a choice that went against the very grain of your existence. ”

My jaw dropped.

So did Naomi’s.

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with my cousin?” Naomi finally asked.

Raina rolled her yellow-green cat eyes. “Jagger left one of his psychology textbooks open and I might have read a couple of chapters the other day. It’s actually really interesting stuff.”

She was right. I also hated that she was right.

I was not and never had been an impulsive person.

Even the one “relationship” I had after my divorce was entered into with every single one of my expectations and boundaries laid out clearly in bullet point form.

Mind you, he was also prelaw and basically looked at my “contract” as foreplay, but it worked for us.

While I hated my married life, it was predictable. Until the atomic bomb of the century dropped, and Cyrus’ heinous crimes came to light. Now, I couldn’t deal with the unexpected. Secrets were like poisonous vines, wrapping around everything, choking out life and light.

Knowledge was power, and call me power hungry, or a control freak, but if I knew what was coming, I could prepare for it. I could get myself and my family ready to fight or flee.

“Disneyland is overrated anyway,” Naomi finally said. “I like six flags better.”

“That doesn’t change your analogy though …” Raina replied, giving our cousin a weird look.

Naomi shrugged and sipped her wine. Honor and Laurel joined us, saying they were hungry.

“Me too,” Marco and Austin said in unison from the living room.

“About five more minutes. Just giving the lasagna a bit more time to rest.” I rolled my eyes and got up from the table to check on the foil-wrapped garlic bread in the oven.

“How’s Jagger’s rehab going?” Naomi asked Raina.

“Seems to be going okay. He hates the cane. Wants to get rid of it as soon as he can. I think he’s pushing himself too hard, but what the hell do I know?”

I pulled out the garlic bread and stacked it into a basket, then brought it to the table. “Two minutes, boys. Then wash up, please.”

No response.

I cleared my throat. “A, ‘Yes, chef,’ or even a grunt of a reply would be appreciated.”

“Yes, chef,” they all called—even Maverick, who spun around to grin at me.

Two minutes later, the biggest kid playing video games turned off the game and ushered them all to the bathroom to wash their hands. My cousins helped me put the extra leaves into the table, and set it. Then, we were ready to eat.

I don’t know how it happened, but Maverick ended up at one end of the table—the head—while I was in my usual spot at the other. Like the king and queen of the castle or something. He beamed at me as he took his seat.

“Wine?” Naomi asked him.

He shook his head. “I’m okay, but thank you.”

We all dove in, the clink of utensils competing with the murmurs and pockets of chatter. I kept glancing up to find Maverick watching me with a keen level of interest in his gaze. It made me warm in some inconvenient places and I immediately shifted my focus to anywhere but him.

It didn’t last long, and I’d find myself looking up again, only to discover him watching me.

“So, uh … I met Jolene Dandy today,” Maverick said, after clearing his throat.

Like he just told us all he was pregnant with triplets, every person around the table went dead silent. Naomi and Raina’s mouths hung open, and my wineglass paused midway to my mouth.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Hugh Tapper gave me the lowdown on her. A bit late, I’m afraid.”

“What. Did. You. Tell. Her?” Raina asked, horror in her eyes.

Maverick swallowed. “Just, uh … just that I’m staying in one of the cabins, and I’m here visiting family friends … the Campbells.”

“Shit.” Naomi dropped her chin to her chest.

“I didn’t know she was The Island Mouth at the time.

We met at Unger Wellness. She said, ‘Who are you? You’re new.

’ Which I thought was a bit abrupt and blunt, but whatever.

I told her my first name—only—and that I was staying on the island for a bit, in a cabin, and visiting friends.

Then I said I had to run to a pottery class. ”

“And she showed up at Hugh’s, didn’t she?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, with Brenda Pickford and Karen … Something.”

“Ribko,” I finished, dread gnawing away in my belly until a pit the size of a grave opened up. I shook my head.

Brenda Pickford was a miserable woman. Her husband was a terrible principal with outdated, backward views, and she was just … hell-bent on infecting everyone around her with the same level of chronic discontent that she lived with.

Karen, however, was just dumb. No other word described that woman as accurate as “dumb.” How she managed to make it into her sixth decade and not get hit by a bus, let alone run a successful trinket shop near the ferry terminal, beguiled anyone who met her.

She was harmless, but I wouldn’t tell her anything that I didn’t want to get back to Jolene, then out to the rest of the island.

“Did Hugh put the run on her at least?” Raina asked. “Hugh’s great. Doesn’t take shit from anybody.”

Maverick’s head bobbed. “He did. But I wanted to give you all a heads-up. I’m really sorry.

I had no idea the Pandora’s box I opened by simply making small talk with a stranger.

Y’all need nametags here. And I need a binder on who to avoid, keep quiet around, and who is okay to say more than ‘Hello’ to. ”

The kids snorted in amusement around the table.

“If only such a thing existed …” I sipped my wine. “I’m sure it’s fine. Just … don’t tell that woman anything. Any of those women. But especially Jolene.”

“I know that now. On the bright side, I made a cool mug for my mom with Hugh. I’m going to go back next week to paint it and make a matching bowl.”

I smiled to myself at his genuine delight. It was comparable to when the kids would come home from school when they were younger with a craft they made for Mother’s Day. The sincere pride in their little eyes melted my heart as they presented me with their creations.

“And I’m making cheese with Fred at Fred’s Ched Shed on Saturday,” he went on. “And then I’m going to try glassblowing with Harold Erikson on Monday, and I got the last spot at the next block of watercolor classes offered on Friday evenings. Starts tomorrow.”

“We’re in that too,” Honor piped up, glancing over at Laurel.

Maverick grinned at them. “Should we go together? I can pick you ladies up, save your moms from having to drive you.”

The girls pivoted their gazes to Naomi and me. “Can he, Mom?” Laurel asked.

I shrugged and shook my head. “I mean … that would be very kind and helpful. Sure.”

Naomi nodded. “Thanks, Maverick.”

Honor and Laurel both lit up and giggled. “It’ll be so cool,” Honor whispered to her cousin. “We can show him around.”

I met Maverick’s gaze over the table and all he did was smile wider at me, which inconveniently caused my face to catch fire.

Was I having my first hot flash? I was too young for perimenopause, wasn’t I?

“Apparently, there’s a metalwork workshop, as well as a woodworking workshop available on the island too.

Normally, not open during the winter, but like Hugh, I visited the stores in person and the owners are willing to offer me one-on-one classes,” Maverick went on.

“However, I’m more than happy to ask if they’d be willing to open up to more spaces if anybody here is interested?

My treat.” It warmed my heart to see him focus equally on the girls as he did the boys.

Just because Laurel and Honor did watercolor, didn’t mean they might not also be interested in metalwork or woodwork.

“What would you do in metalwork?” Marco asked.

“All kinds of cool things.” Maverick pulled out his phone and brought up Jackson Clemmons’ website.

“They have a laser cutter which will cut pretty much anything you can think of. I think they also teach you how to solder, and maybe even some beginner welding.” Maverick turned the phone so we could all see a video playing on the website. “See?”

Marco’s eyes widened, and Austin leaned over to see the video too. “That’s cool,” Austin remarked. “I’d be into that.”

“Me too,” Marco piped up.

Maverick glanced at Damon. “What about you, bud?”

Damon shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What about the woodworking?” Laurel asked.

Maverick took a second and found Carol Robbins’ website. “Now this lady is talented. Look at the stuff she makes. That octopus carving is made with one piece of driftwood. Can you believe it?” He showed the whole table, and the kids seemed really impressed.

Laurel turned to me. “Could I do that, Mom?”

“I don’t see why not. I’ve always said I wished you kids had more hobbies. I never thought to inquire whether the artisans on the island would be interested in running after-school classes for kids. But it’s a good idea.”

“I want to do it too,” Honor added.

“Then we could swap,” Marco said with excitement. “You guys can then do the metalwork after we do a few classes, and we can make stuff with wood.”

I was about to tell my nephew not to get too ahead of himself, but Maverick nodded enthusiastically. “I love that idea. I’ll pop by to both places tomorrow and see what we can do.” He met my gaze again. “Would the missing niece, Sam, like to join too, do you think?”

I glanced over at Naomi and Raina. Their eyes turned sad.

“We can ask,” Naomi finally said. “But she’ll probably say no.”

Undeterred, Maverick took a bite of his garlic bread.

“Maybe in time. This is great though. I’m excited to fill my days with learning new cool stuff.

” Once again, his eyes were on me. “I’ve booked a few of the cheese making classes.

A couple of them had two spots open, so I grabbed both.

Maybe … you’d like to come with me to one sometime? ”

Like an idiot, I turned around and looked behind me, then faced forward again. “Who? Me?”

Raina and Naomi both snorted. “I think that’s who he meant,” Raina said.

I glared at her.

“Or not. Whatever,” Maverick said casually. “Don’t sweat it.” He hummed and smiled as he used his bread to mop up the leftover ragu on his plate. “Damn, this is good sauce. Is there anything you’re not good at, Gabrielle? Amazing cook, great mom, killer lawyer, savvy businesswoman.”

I could feel my cousins’ heated, curious stares on my forehead, but refused to look up from my plate at any of them. My face was already an inferno, and I’m sure the color wasn’t just in my cheeks, but my neck and into my hairline as well.

What was Maverick’s angle here?

Was he deliberately trying to embarrass me? I couldn’t remember him being this complimentary before.

I cleared my throat and took a sip of my wine. Only, my glass was empty—of course—and I made an obnoxious slurping sound which echoed into an empty glass.

Ground, please open up and swallow me whole.

“Here we go, Gabs,” Raina said, pouring me more wine. “I gotcha.”

I sucked in a deep breath, which did nothing to settle my frayed nerves. My hand shook as I brought the glass to my lips for a sip, nearly spilling wine all over myself.

“You okay, Mom?” Laurel asked.

“I’m fine.” I set the wineglass down on the table and stood up. “I just … too much time in the kitchen. I’m a little warm. Just … I’ll be right back.” I bolted to the entryway, slid into my practical black loafers, didn’t grab a coat, and was out of there.

My chest burned as I sucked in deep lungfuls of chilly evening air, standing there on the front porch.

It was still winter, and the sky was clear, indicating that it would probably freeze tonight.

But even with the icicles forming on the back of my throat, the change in temperature and solitude was more than welcome.

Goosebumps raced down my arms and I rubbed them with the opposite hands.

What the hell was going on with me?

I’d never felt this way or behaved this way in my entire life. It had to be a hormonal thing. Perimenopause, or maybe my blood sugar was low? I needed to book an appointment with Justine and get some bloodwork done. There was no other explanation for this. I was clearly unwell.

The door opened, and I prayed to the gods I didn’t believe in that it was anybody but Maverick.

“You okay?” Raina asked.

I exhaled in all-consuming relief and faced her. “I think I’m sick.”

She lifted a brow. “With what?”

I hugged my arms around myself tighter and shook my head. “I don’t know.”

The icy winter wind whipped Raina’s dark-red hair around her face and she gathered it in her fist and held it over her shoulder. “Maybe you’re just attracted to Maverick?”

I shook my head again. “No. Attraction doesn’t make you feel like this . I’m sick. I need to see Justine.”

She made a face like she was looking to argue with me, but instead of saying a word, she just pressed her lips together.

If anything, that was more irritating. I’d rather she disagree with me. At least then I could distract myself by forming a rebuttal.

“Did I cause a scene?”

Her eyes betrayed her shrug and headshake.

I buried my face in my hands. “Crap.”

“Take another minute to collect yourself. I’ll make up some excuse, then just come inside and go to your bedroom. I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well or something.” She rubbed the side of my arm affectionately. “Okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

Pursing her lips again, she bobbed her head, then ducked back into the house.

I stared up at the millions of stars twinkling overhead. The moon was a thin crescent hanging to the southeast, barely shedding enough light for me to make out the CLOSED sign for the tasting room across the yard.

I pulled in a few more deep breaths, holding them in my lungs until the air turned warm, then exhaling them out into the ether.

“You’re just under the weather,” I told myself. “That’s it.” Then I headed into the house, ditched my slippers, avoided the curious, worried stares of everyone at the table, and beelined it for my bedroom.

“Period cramps,” Raina said, just as I closed my bedroom door.

My jaw dropped. That was her excuse for me?

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I flung myself onto my bed, buried my head under my pillow, and resisted the urge to scream.

The house was old, and definitely not soundproof. If I wanted to scream and have nobody hear me, I’d have to jump into the ocean.

At the moment, the idea didn’t seem that unappealing.