Page 25 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

“Did you like the class, Mav?” Honor asked, redirecting the conversation. “I really liked your trees.”

I snagged her gaze in the rearview mirror again and smiled. “It was actually pretty relaxing. Once you learn to just ‘give into the water and the muse,’ like Sage said—” Both girls snorted. “Then it’s quite calming.”

“I liked our beach scene classes best,” Honor said. “These trees are nice too, but the beach ones with all the different sky and ocean colors were my favorite.”

“Ooh, maybe Sage will run that class again after this one and I can take it.”

“Did you talk to the woodwork person?” Laurel asked.

“I did! Thank you for reminding me.” The sign for the vineyard three miles up ahead came into view on the right.

“Both the woodwork and metalwork shops said it would be no problem. So we’ll chat with your mom and see what days and times work best. I’m sure it’ll be lots of fun.

I remember that I really enjoyed both metalwork and woodwork class in junior high and high school. ”

“I don’t know if they offer those at our high school,” Laurel said. “Damon’s never mentioned it.”

I took the next right down the narrowed road that brought us to the vineyard.

Soon, the trees cleared, giving way to the vast fields of grapevine rows.

As far as the eye could see, the fields on both sides of the lane stretched to the horizon with plants that in the spring would be teeming with juicy fruit.

“Next sunny day you should come over and we can take you down to the beach,” Honor said. “It’s just below the vineyard.”

“Is it your private beach?” I asked as just a few fat raindrops landed on my windshield.

“No,” she said glumly. “And we’re not allowed to go without adults. At least not in the summer.” She made a noise of disgust. “It’s a nude beach. Like people take off all their clothes and lay around completely naked. How weird is that?”

My jaw went slack and I glanced over at Laurel for confirmation. She frowned and nodded. “It’s true. It’s gross.”

I snorted. “I’m guessing it’s mostly old hippies that frequent that beach to avoid tan lines?”

“Mom says I’d be scarred for life if I saw any of the Island Elders in their birthday suits.”

Honor giggled. “What if they burned their butts? They’d never be able to sit down.”

“They probably put sunscreen on their butts,” Laurel said, turning around in her seat to face her cousin. “I don’t want to picture it though.”

The driveway for the vineyard came into view, and a moment later, I took the right turn. “Well, I doubt we’d find any naked old hippies down there this time of year. So definitely, on the next sunny day, you guys can show me the beach.”

“It’s a bit of a walk since we’re on the top of a cliff.” Honor unbuckled her belt when I brought the truck to a full stop and put it into park. “Thanks for the ride, Maverick. This was fun.”

“Same time next week, kiddo?”

“Sounds great.” She opened up the back door at the same time Laurel opened up hers.

She glanced at me. “Thanks, Mav”

“I’ll walk you to the door, kiddo,” I said, unbuckling my belt and opening my door. “I wanted to chat real quick with your mom.”

She nodded and headed for the porch steps. Honor took off toward the string of solar lights off in the trees, which I’m guessing was where the cottage she lived in with her mom and brother was.

Laurel climbed the stairs and opened the door. I hung out on the porch though. She gave me a weird look as she removed her shoes and jacket. “You coming in?”

“I, uh … sure.” I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

“Mom!” Laurel called out, stepping deeper into the house through the kitchen. “Mav wants to talk to you.” She faced me again. “Thanks again, Mav.” Then she gave me a wave before disappearing down the hallway.

I stood awkwardly in the entryway that led to the kitchen, shifting back and forth on my feet as I waited for Gabrielle. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to speak to her about, I just knew I needed to see her.

But it wasn’t Gabrielle that came around the corner, it was Laurel again.

Her brows were pinched in slight confusion.

“Mom is … in the bath.” She shook her head like she couldn’t quite believe what she was saying.

“Which is so weird because she never takes baths. Anyway, she asked if you guys could chat later?”

“S-sure.” I nodded. “Not a problem.” I reached behind me for the doorknob. “I’ll see you soon, Laurel. Have a great night.”

“You too.” Then she was gone again.

I headed back to my truck, confused about what was going on with Gabrielle.

If she never took baths, why was she having a bath now?

Was it to avoid me? Shit. Now all I could do was picture her in the tub, naked, covered in bubbles, with her hair piled high on her head and her cheeks flushed from the warm water.

My cock grew stiff against my zipper as I climbed behind the steering wheel.

I winced a little when my back twinged from the weird way I had pivoted.

I needed to be more careful and conscientious about how I moved my torso.

It was only seven forty-five, and my intention for the rest of the evening was to listen to a few of Germaine Pratt’s douche podcasts, just to see what kind of shit the boys in Damon’s school were getting brainwashed with.

I’d planned to listen to Jasmine Greengrass’ podcasts, since my interview with her was tomorrow, but after chatting with Damon, I knew I needed to tackle the douche-casts first.

I decided it was best if I gave the Campbell family some space.

I’d been over there every day since arriving on the island, and while Damon might not have a problem with it, Gabrielle clearly did.

And I needed to respect that. I was just pulling out of the vineyard driveway when my phone vibrated.

I stopped to check it. It was a message from Logan.

Working tonight. Come by for a drink .

I replied back.

Just one. Be there in a few.

Maybe he’d heard of Germaine Pratt and could give me some insight on what to expect. I fully anticipated being disgusted, but it was always nice to know just what level of disgust to expect.

I arrived back at my cabin shortly after nine, parked, and didn’t bother to go inside before walking down the grassy laneway toward the pub. The parking lot was full, and music and laughter echoed out through the open kitchen doors at the back of the building.

I entered through the front and Logan lifted his chin in greeting at me since his hands were busy mixing a drink. I grabbed the seat at the bar closest to him. “You ever heard of Germaine Pratt?” I asked him, not bothering with pleasantries, since our friendship seemed beyond that now.

He made a face like he’d just bit into a lemon. “Why?”

“A few of the guys in Damon’s class listen to him. I was going to check it out, just to see what kind of toxic masculinity is marinating at San Camanez High.”

“The most toxic you can ever imagine, if they listen to that twat,” he confirmed, placing the cocktail on the bar just in time for Renée to come up and grab it.

“Hey, Mav!” She gave my bicep a friendly little squeeze before cocking her head to the side at Logan, curiously. “What’s got you making that face?”

“Mav asked about Germaine Pratt. Apparently, a bunch of the high school boys listen to him.”

“Oh, gross,” she said, gagging with her tongue out. “He’s a vile human being, if you can even consider him human. Does Damon listen to him too?”

I shook my head. “He said he doesn’t. And I don’t see Gabrielle letting him either. Damon said as much. He doesn’t actually like the kids that are listening to that stuff.”

“Slim pickings for friends on a small island like this,” Renée said with a sad face.

“That’s what Damon said. I went to visit him at school today so his ‘friends’ could meet me. And the stuff coming out of these kids’ mouths was revolting. I thought maybe they were just trying to impress me, but Damon said that’s how they talk all the time.”

Logan and Renée both made similar faces of revulsion.

“Witbier?” Logan asked me. I nodded. “Honestly, dude,” he started, grabbing a pint glass from behind the bar and sticking it under the tap for the Belgian brew, “save your ears. Don’t listen to that shit-stain for brains.”

“I feel like I need to. Just to … I dunno … help Damon in some way. The kid is really struggling.”

“You couldn’t pay me to go back to being a teenager in high school,” Logan said, setting my beer down in front of me. “And I went to a preppy charter school. It was hell.”

I blanched and brought my beer to my lips to take a sip. “My high school was small. Small town, big sports pride. We loved our hockey and our basketball.” I made a fist and pumped it with my elbow resting on the bar. “Wolverine pride.”

He snorted and started to make another drink that came up on the ticket machine. “We were the … wait for it …” His blue eyes widened. “The Lions.” He scoffed. “So original, right? Our coat of arms is exactly what you think it would look like.”

I smirked and did sort of a Thriller pose with my arms bent, fingers curled like all lions on coats of arms appear. Logan clicked his tongue and nodded. “I totally thought you were going to say something like, ‘The Patriots’ or ‘The Lobster Rolls,’” I added.

“I would have definitely played a sport and been the jockiest of jocks if we were ‘The Lobster Rolls.’” He placed the red wine he’d just poured, onto the bar for Jillian—the other server—to come grab.

“So, what did you get up to tonight? Have you ticked off any more workshops from your island bucket list?”

“I went to a watercolor class with Sage Thorpe. Honor and Laurel came with me since they already take Sage’s classes.”

Logan’s brows lifted. “And how was that?”

“Actually pretty relaxing. The girls are way better than I am, but for my first time, I don’t think I sucked, or embarrassed them.”

Renée was back, punching in an order on the POS machine.

“Hey, babe,” Logan said to her, “wanna take a watercolor class together?”

“With Sage?” Renée asked. “Sure. I love her. I love her husband’s wool and her wife’s soap too.”

Logan definitely wasn’t expecting that kind of an answer and his jaw dropped. “There’s a throuple on the island?”

“And a hot throuple at that,” Renée added. “But don’t look so surprised. This place is all about free love. Rumor is, most of the Island Elders were all about the orgies and free love back in the day.” She tossed Logan a wink with her pretty gray eyes. “Should we get on board? Partner share?”

His face turned stoney for a half-second. “I’m not sharing you with anybody.”

She batted her lashes at him and blew him a kiss before heading to go check on a table. “Good answer.”

“Crazy hippy island,” Logan murmured under his breath.

I snorted a laugh. “You ever heard of the Pucktastic podcast with Jasmine Greengrass?”

His eyes formed thin slits as he thought about it. “She a sports podcaster?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Both Jillian and Renée joined us at the bar.

“You two ever heard of the Pucktastic podcast with a Jasmine Greengrass?” Logan asked them.

Renée shook her head, but Jillian nodded, sending her tight, black curls bouncing. “Totally. I love her.”

I spun around to face the pretty, dark-skinned server with big, brown eyes and a bright smile. “Really? Tell me more.”

Jillian shrugged a bare, slender shoulder that gave way to toned, muscular arms. A pretty floral tattoo peeked out from her collarbone and wove halfway down her right arm.

“My ex-boyfriend loved hockey, never missed a game. I watched most of them with him and actually started to enjoy it too. But I hated all the commentators. So Theo—the ex—suggested I listen to Jasmine’s podcast. He said she covered all the same stuff, but in a more palatable way.

Now, Theo is gone, but I never miss a Pucktastic episode. ”

I’m so glad I came into the pub tonight and that Jillian was working. This was great feedback, and only helped concretize my decision to join Jasmine on her show.

“Is the majority of her audience female then?” I asked.

She nodded. “I think so. She’s got a wide reach though. Her sponsorships are picking up too. Why?”

“I’m doing an interview with her for her podcast tomorrow morning.”

I wasn’t expecting Jillian to hit me in the arm. Or for it to be so hard. “Shut. Up!”

Logan snorted.

I gaped at Jillian.

“You’re going on Pucktastic with Jasmine tomorrow?”

“I am, yeah. I met her about a month ago after a game, and we chatted for a while. She really knows her hockey. Then she reached out and asked if I could come on her show.”

“You met Jasmine Greengrass,” Jillian asked, on the verge of seriously fangirling.

“Yeah …”

“Amazing! I am so excited for you to go on her show. You’ll have to come in here after and tell me everything .”

Renée smirked at her friend as she walked behind her. “Whatever you do, Mav, don’t tell her what time the interview is. Otherwise, she’ll be knocking on your door to come join.”

Jillian made a face like she was considering it before taking off to go check on one of her tables.

“So what are you guys going to talk about?” Logan asked.

“Order up!” called one of the chefs from the food window.

Logan went and grabbed the burger and fries and carried it to a nearby guy sitting by himself at a table.

He returned behind the bar and jerked his chin at me so I could reply. “No idea. I’m assuming hockey.” I sipped more of my beer.

A moment later, Jillian came up beside me.

“Holy shit. Have you checked your newsfeed?” She had her phone out and leaned against the bar so I could see her phone too.

“Kyle Henderson is facing multiple charges—not just accusations—but charges of sexual assault, and two of rape.” She brought her voice down a little at that last bit, then turned to me. “He’s on the Storm with you.”

My mouth opened, but honestly, I wasn’t that surprised. Henderson was one of the guys who listened to those alpha-bro podcasts and treated women like playthings far beneath him.

I brought out my phone and found the same article with the headline: Portland Storm, left-winger, Kyle Henderson, charged with four counts of sexual assault and two of rape, by six different women over the last two years.

Logan whistled and shook his head. “I guess we know what you’ll be talking about at your interview with Jasmine tomorrow then, huh?”

Exhaling in embarrassment that I even knew Henderson, let alone called him a teammate, I nodded. “If she doesn’t bring it up, I will. I think it’s high time we address what’s really the problem here.” I glanced at Jillian, and Renée. “And it’s men.”