Page 29 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

It was nights like this, all of us together—at peace, independent, but also dependent on each other—that made me so grateful for our aunt Dolores. Without her, none of us ever would have been able to escape Idaho and that life, or those men.

Naomi wrapped an arm around my shoulder as I stood at the island, my movements of putting the leftover gravy in a Tupperware container stalled as I just watched Jagger and the kids goof off.

“This was exactly what Aunt Dolores wanted. A house full of family and love. She never got it herself, but … she made this happen.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “She’s here. Her energy is here. Her heart is here.”

Naomi kissed my cheek, then removed her arm, and we continued to put everything away.

By eight o’clock, everyone was headed home, and my kids were having their showers and getting ready for bed.

While Damon didn’t necessarily have a bedtime anymore, he was typically in his room with the door closed by nine.

Laurel read until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

But I never really had to worry about her.

It was my emo kid that drove me to have the second glass of wine.

Was Maverick at home yet? Or was he still over at Penny’s with Logan and Renée? Would he drink too much and spend the night at Penny’s?

I drained nearly half my wine glass as I sat at on the couch, watching the raindrops trickle down the picture window.

I had an appointment with Justine first thing tomorrow morning.

We were going to get to the bottom of these inconvenient hot flashes once and for all.

If it was perimenopause, I could deal with that.

The burns on the tops of my thighs tingled and itched, and I fought the urge to scratch them.

What movie were they watching at Penny’s?

Stop thinking about it !

Growling, I tossed back the rest of the wine, stomped to the kitchen, and rinsed out the glass. Then, because I was anal-retentive about shit, I dried the glass and put it away. No sense leaving things in the dish rack when I could take another fifteen seconds to just dry them and put them away.

Then , I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and went to bed. I stared at my closed bedroom door, then shifted my gaze to my nightstand drawer where my vibrator sat, all charged up, in its purple satin bag. Then glanced back at the door. Then at my nightstand.

With another growl, I locked my door, stomped over to the nightstand, pulled out my toy, and climbed into bed.

Maybe all I needed was a good orgasm, then I would be stress free and able to stop thinking about Maverick and what he might or might not being doing with Penny.

But of course, all I could think about was Maverick the entire time, and when I squeezed my eyes closed and pictured his sexy, crooked smirk, I exploded.

Motherfucker.

“So you’re having hot flashes when, exactly?

” Dr. Justine Brazeau asked, as I sat in her office during clinic hours on Monday morning.

Justine hadn’t been on the island for very long, but she was already a friend to everyone.

Half Chinese, half French Canadian, she looked an awful lot like Lucy Liu and, in my opinion, was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

She was also in a long-term relationship with Bennett McEvoy and lived on the McEvoy property.

And while she was a surgeon back in Seattle, she went back to her GP roots, and joined the practice on the island after falling in love with Bennett.

She removed the blood pressure cuff from my arm, then peered into my ears with the funky little cone-shaped thing with the light on it.

“It’s random,” I said. “I … I don’t know exactly when.”

She checked my other ear. “Night sweats?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Her brown eyes narrowed. “Any other symptoms? Irregular periods? Vaginal dryness? Difficulty sleeping? Weight gain? Mood swings? Frequent headaches, or muscle and joint pain? Brain fog?”

I shook my head again.

Pursing her lips, she tapped her chin with her index finger.

“You’re still a little young for perimenopause.

I’m not ruling it out, but forty-one is at the early end of the spectrum.

Walk me through your last week. How many times do you think you got a hot flash over the last seven days and when did it happen? ”

I shrugged and glanced at the drop ceiling and overhead LED lights. “Um … maybe like four or five times.”

“When did they occur? Were you doing something specific?”

I averted my eyes and my cheeks grew hot.

“Gabrielle?” She gently reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You can tell me. Did something happen?”

Clenching my molars, I fixated on the muscular anatomy poster pinned to the wall, and my knee started to bounce.

Justine pressed down on my thigh with her other hand and moved her body to block me from seeing the poster. “Gabrielle …”

“It’s perimenopause, I know it. Okay? It’s not him.

It’s just a coincidence. I’ve never gotten hot around a guy before.

So it doesn’t make sense that it’s happening now.

There’s something else wrong with me. I’m going through the change .

I’m fine with it. You can just write me a prescription for vagina estrogen cream or whatever, and I’ll be on my way. ”

Justine’s lips twitched and she scratched at the side of her head. “Who?”

I rolled my lips inward and shook my head like a child unwilling to tell their parents just who kicked the soccer ball in the house and knocked Grandpa’s ashes into the fish tank.

She tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps the attractive young man who is currently staying in one of the cabins?”

My eyes went wide.

“It’s a small island.”

“Oh my god! Are people talking? It was Jolene, wasn’t it? That woman needs to have her lips stapled shut.” A sickening pit opened up in the depths of my belly. “What are they saying?”

“Nobody is saying anything. But I do live on the same property where he’s staying.

And I was at the pub with Brooke, Chloe, and Vica Friday night when Maverick came in.

He sat at the bar and chatted with Logan.

Jillian was our server and told us he’s a family friend of yours.

So I’m kind of putting the puzzle pieces together. ”

I wasn’t ready to take that answer as good enough. “But nobody is saying anything, right? Like nobody thinks he’s … he’s visiting my family for any other reason than to just visit? Than to spend time with the kids?”

“ Is he?”

“Is he what?”

“Just visiting your family and spending time with the kids?”

“Yes!” I exploded, throwing my hands in the air. “What else would he be doing?”

She shrugged, and that lip twitch was back. “I don’t know. But you just said that your ‘hot flashes’ happen when he’s around.”

“Pure correlation. Not causation. I thought you were a doctor?”

Justine snorted. “Any other symptoms when the handsome hockey player is around?”

“Like what?”

Plunking her hands on her hips, she gave me an almost impatient look, but swept it away a moment later with a small smile. “Have you never been aroused before, Gabrielle?”

I scoffed. “Of course I have.”

“Okay … so you know what it feels like then? Do you feel those same things when you see Maverick? When you’re around him? When you touch him and smell him?”

“I don’t touch him!”

She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and released it. “Okay, you don’t touch him. But you see him. You speak to him. And I’m sure at least once—when he first arrived, you maybe hugged him—so you’ve smelled him. Did a ‘hot flash’ occur then?”

“What are you getting at?” I was determined to play dumb and live in denial for as long as I could.

The brilliant beauty in front of me with the stethoscope around her neck wasn’t buying it.

“You’re a smart woman, Gabrielle. And there is a waiting room full of people out there.

While I’m happy to sit here and listen to you deny the fact that you have a sexual attraction to the handsome adult man visiting your family, I think your time—and mine—is better served elsewhere. ”

“So, no vagina cream?”

She snorted and shook her head. “No vagina cream. From what I can tell, you’re not in perimenopause yet. You’re simply experiencing your first serious crush.”

I pouted and hopped down off the table. “Forty-one-year-olds can’t get crushes.”

“Uh … I think they can. I don’t think there is an age limit on crushes. We just don’t scribble the guy’s name in our binders and play the MASH game anymore.”

I gave her a confused look. “What’s the MASH game?”

“Ask your kids.”

I grabbed my jacket and purse from the coat hook. “So what do I do about this …”

“Crush? Attraction? Arousal?”

I refused to meet her eyes. “Sure. That.”

“Two things … one, you get a really great vibrator and masturbate to relieve the frustration, or …”

I glanced at her as she paused.

“You act on it and see if he feels the same.”

“Well, option one didn’t work. Maybe I’ll see if I can get some vagina cream from a witch doctor.” I gripped the doorhandle, but her hand on my shoulder stopped me from opening the door.

“Gabrielle, you’re both adults. It’s totally natural, and …” she shrugged, “you’re hot. I say go for it.” Her smile was small, but encouraging as I opened the door.

“Thanks for nothing, doc,” I murmured before she chuckled.

In a fog of frustration, I drove home. I was just climbing out of my SUV in the carport when the throaty rumble of a truck engine, followed by the crunch of gravel in the driveway, pulled my attention.

My belly did a flip, then a flop.

I already knew who it was, and there was nothing I could do to avoid him this time. He obviously saw me pull in, and I couldn’t make it up the porch steps and into the house before he got out of the truck.

“Hey, Gabrielle,” Maverick called, jogging lightly to eat up the distance between us as I climbed the steps and opened the door.

“Oh, hey,” I said, determined to be light and breezy, even if it killed me.