Page 55 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

Maverick

We decided to drop the first podcast—my interview with Man—the following Friday.

With the one with Roman to come out the Friday after that, and my one with Jagger the Friday after that.

Since Damon still had schoolwork, I didn’t want him spending all of his time working for me, even though he said he enjoyed it.

We also queued up several more interviews with other athletes I knew from the industry, as well as a few other islanders that Jagger suggested.

It was Thursday night, and Gabrielle and I had just finished a two-hour session in my cabin. Six orgasms from her, three from me, and we were both sweaty, breathless, and exhausted.

“You nervous about the podcast tomorrow?” she asked, returning to the bedroom, naked and confident in her own skin after using the washroom. She had two glasses of water with her.

“Very,” I said, taking one cup from her. “I know what I’m doing is good. That it’s the right thing to do, but it’s still really terrifying.”

She climbed back onto the bed and pulled the covers up over her breasts—much to my dismay.

“Well, I think you’re going to do amazingly well.

I’ll be honest, I kind of eavesdropped outside my office door when you guys interviewed Roman, and I thought what you discussed was real and raw, and absolutely needs to be heard. ”

“Even the stuff that kind of skirted the edge of me pleasing Damon’s mother in bed?” I quirked one brow at her.

“While that was a little awkward, Damon’s fourteen. He’s … sexually aware.”

“That’s a diplomatic way to put that he spends too long in the shower.”

“I thought so.”

We both snorted and sipped our water.

“Are you nervous about presenting to the Island Elders Council tomorrow?”

Sipping her water, she glanced at me sideways.

“I should be. And honestly, I’m stressing out that I’m not.

” She turned to face me, dead-on, a calmness over her that I only saw in fleeting instances.

“But I’m not. We have a solid proposal. A worthwhile plan for the land, and now that we’re not butting heads with the McEvoys, but working with them, I think our idea is better than ever. We have a real chance at winning this.”

I reached for her hand, smiling as I laced our fingers together.

“Go on a date with me,” I said, just as she was about to swallow another sip of water.

So of course, that made her choke, and I had to hammer my fist on her back as she coughed and struggled for her life.

“Sorry,” I said with a chuckle, when we determined she was, in fact, not going to die.

“It’s … it’s okay.” She blinked through the water that welled up in her eyes. “Uh … a date where?”

“I have another cheese making workshop on Saturday and it’s for two people. Go with me.”

“Here on the island?”

“Yeah. At Fred’s Ched Shed. We’re going to make ricotta, paneer, or queso fresco.”

“But … everyone will see us together.”

I gasped. “You mean it’s not a cheese making workshop for the blind?

” My eye roll seemed to disarm her, and she smirked.

Then I laced our fingers together again before looking soulfully into her eyes.

“Gabrielle Campbell, will you go on a date with me to make some cheese, please? I promise to call you Mrs. Campbell and pretend like I don’t eat your ass on a daily basis if you’d prefer.

I will even try to refrain from eating your ass during the class if that will make you join me. ”

She burst out laughing and shook her head. Wiping a tear of laughter from her eye, she cast another sideways look at me. “You promise not to eat my ass during class?”

I crossed my heart with my free index finger. “And hope to die. All bets are off after class though. A man only has so much willpower.”

“Fine,” she finally said.

“Oh, Mrs. Campbell,” I crooned as I rolled on top of her, “you make me so happy. As a thank you, how about I eat your ass?”

She rolled her eyes, but I was already ducking under the covers. “If you insist.”

Just like I hated watching myself on television during interviews, I couldn’t stand the sound of my own voice and refused to listen to the podcast when it dropped Friday morning.

Instead, I accompanied Gabrielle, her cousins, and the McEvoys to the community center where they were set to present their proposal for Bonn Remmen’s land.

No matter where I went, whether it be the grocery store, Hugh Tapper’s to make pottery, Sage’s for watercolor, or Unger Wellness for PT, I heard murmurs about this available land and how coveted it was.

So, feeding my curious nature, I walked over there one night after Logan told me it was the property next door to the McEvoy’s.

While overgrown, the land was beautiful.

It had a gentle, natural slope, a sandy beach, lots of south-west sun exposure, privacy from the tall standing trees framing the property on three sides.

And in the middle of it all was a squat little one-story shack with shake siding, moss on the ancient roof, and a crumbling stone chimney.

Gabrielle showed me a picture of their diorama for their plans during one of our “breaks” Thursday night, and I could picture it so much better having been there in person.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” I asked her as I sat behind the steering wheel of my truck. She was in the passenger seat. Raina drove with Jagger, and Naomi and Danica drove together.

Releasing a slow, deep breath, she swallowed and smoothed her charcoal dress slacks down her thighs. “I don’t know. I feel like you might distract me.”

That made one corner of my mouth tip up. “Yeah? Like you might spontaneously orgasm just from being near me?”

The look she gave me was not one of amusement. Whoops. Not the time for jokes.

I reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got this. You’ve all got this. That land is your land … that land is my land, from California to the—”

Another sharp look from her had me shutting up. “Sorry.”

Several big trucks pulled into the muddy community center parking lot, and behind the wheel of one of them, I recognized Jagger. Raina was with him.

“Show time,” I said, pulling her hand so she had to face me, and leaning in to give her a kiss. Only, she didn’t kiss me back. She tensed right up and even kept her eyes open.

A nervous, stuttered breath fled her nose, and she let go of my hand. “I … I’ll catch a ride home with my cousins. You can go … do whatever you need to do. Don’t wait for us.”

Like an arrow straight into my heart, I recoiled a little in my seat. “You’re sure?”

The McEvoys were beginning to climb out of their trucks, some of them looking this way. Without glancing at me again, she opened the door. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll see you later.”

Then she bailed out of my truck and with determination in her stride, she hustled to catch up with her cousins—not looking back at me once.

I sat there for a while, even after everyone had gone in, just staring at the door, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I came to support her, and she wanted me to go?

Did I invite myself? Was I even wanted there?

I remembered mentioning it last night after she showed me the diorama that I’d love to come and support them, and she said sure. But was it a compulsory “sure”? Did she feel obligated to let me come?

Willing the door to open and Gabrielle’s face to appear, with a big, relieved smile, I sat there a little longer. Until a text message from my brother, Rebel, popped up on my phone.

What the actual fuck, little brother? You’ve started your own woke, douche podcast?

Your career is over. You know that, right?

Everything you’ve worked so hard for, everything you’ve ever dreamed of achieving—poof!

Gone. Because you can’t keep your mouth shut and your opinions to yourself.

What if it was me? What if I was in Henderson’s position? Would you still call me out?

Rebel and I never really saw eye-to-eye on much.

He was the oldest, but ironically enough, the shortest out of all of us—including our dad.

And I think that grated on him more than he’d ever admit.

He made up for that shorter stature—five-foot-eleven—by being a total asshole almost all of the time.

He picked fights on the ice constantly, was known as a hothead, and had an ego the size of the sun.

It was well-known in the league that he was not only a difficult player to coach, but not an easy teammate to have either.

He got traded a lot because teams just didn’t want to deal with him.

So to get a message like this came as no real surprise. He’d already spoken out against me to the media, and I’m sure he was gearing up to do it again to win brownie points with the league and players who aligned themselves with Henderson.

It would piss him off more if I ignored him than if I started a battle of wits and traded barbs over text. Mostly because I was a hell of a lot smarter than him, and he would quickly resort to juvenile insults, slurs, and cursing.

I deleted the message and shoved my phone back into my pocket, but it only stayed there a second before it started to ring.

Alice Wu.

This call I would definitely take.

“Hey, guru lady. How’s it going?” I answered.

“Are you seeing this?” she asked, excitement in her voice.

“Seeing what? I’m currently sitting in a community center parking lot staring at a closed door. All I’m seeing right now is mud puddles, a grass roof, and what may or may not be goat shit on said grass roof.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. What’s up?”

“The number of listened hours for your podcast. It’s only been live for like six hours and already you’ve had like two thousand hours listened. This is lit . I’ve never had a client’s first podcast go viral like this before, no cap.”