Page 56 of Hot for the Hockey Player (The Single Moms of San Camanez: The Vino Vixens #2)

“Whoa.” I shoved my fingers into my hair and tugged on the ends a little just to wake myself up.

“I … I was too nervous to sit in front of my laptop and watch. This is crazy.” The butterflies in my stomach did somersaults of elation, but I knew better than to get carried away, and told them to settle down.

Maybe this was just hype for something new.

Something novel. And I’d be labeled a hack this time next week and nobody would tune into the next episode.

But a few of those little buggers continued to flap their wings in hope.

“Damn right. You ate it,” Alice exclaimed.

Even though we were both Gen-Z I seriously struggled to keep up with her slang.

“You slayed your first episode. And the fact that you already have your next two all queued up means I can start taking sound bites from them to entice listeners. You already have brand deals coming in, Mav. Like this is legit fire.”

“Brand deals?”

“Sponsorship. Companies want a piece of the Maverick Roy pie. They want to sponsor your podcast, have you mention them on air, and they’ll pay you a buttload of money to do it.”

“That’s a thing for podcasts? I mean, I know it is for athletes. I just had no idea it was a thing for podcasters.”

“You can monetize anything with the right sales pitch and audience. Can you send me your producer’s information? I want to chat with him a bit about jazzing up your intro. It’s great, but I think we can make it greater. Do a bit of a flex, yeah?”

“Damon?”

“Is that his name? Yeah. What company does he work for?”

“Uh,” I scratched at my chin, “he’s my girlfriend’s fourteen-year-old son.”

“Shut up.”

“No?”

“First of all, Maverick Roy has a girlfriend? That’s big news. Secondly, the guy editing your shows is fourteen ? Are you kidding me?”

“No?”

“Wait. There aren’t any like child labor laws we have to look into are there? You’re paying him? He’s getting breaks and shit?”

“I’m paying him. But as far as breaks go, I don’t know.

” She was sending me into a panic. “He does it in his bedroom after he’s finished his homework.

I’m pretty sure he goes piss when he needs to and grabs a banana if he’s hungry.

I haven’t chained the kid’s leg to a chair, if that’s what you’re implying. ”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she dismissed, almost too casually. “Though, I’d just double-check on things, yeah? Last thing we need is for people to think you’re sus and hiring kids because you’re cheap AF.”

“Sure … is that what they’re going to think?”

“Probably not. Send me his contact info either way. We need to jazz up your intro.”

Dragging my hand down my face, I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes.

Having a conversation with Alice Wu was like riding a roller coaster backward.

You never knew when the twists and turns were going to make your gut launch into your throat.

What started out as a great conversation with me on cloud nine had pivoted to her asking me to make sure I wasn’t exploiting Damon and violating any Washington State child labor laws.

I had whiplash just from the conversation.

“Fuck, we’re at nearly three thousand now. Dude … dude, this is fire.”

While there was probably only a three or four year age difference between me and Alice, it felt like a hell of a lot more whenever we spoke.

Not just the slang I could barely comprehend, but also her level of unhinged excitement or the way she bounced from one topic to another.

Some of the younger players who came up from the farm teams were a lot like Alice. In fact, they were just … a lot.

I felt old.

The door to the community center opened, and the McEvoys and Vino Vixens—as I heard Gabrielle and her cousins were called—started to file out, this time without the impressive diorama.

The only two not in the mix were Raina and Jagger, and I’m guessing that was because Jagger was being stubborn and refusing to use his cane and moving slower than the rest.

Everyone was smiling, so I took that as a good sign.

“Maverick?”

Shit, I was still on the phone with Alice. “Sorry. Yeah?”

“We’re at nearly three and a quarter thousand now. You need to get home and look at the numbers.”

“Uh … sure. Yeah. I’ll send you Damon’s info. Listen, Alice, thanks for all of your help. I’ve got to go.”

“Later.” She disconnected the call before I did, and just as Gabrielle, with wariness in her eyes, approached the passenger side of my truck. She opened the door.

“So?” I asked, feigning nonchalance, even though I was all kinds of chalant. Was that even a word? “How’d it go? Everyone seems to be smiling.”

She glanced out into the parking lot where Naomi and Danica climbed into Danica’s SUV and the McEvoys piled into two of their trucks. Jagger and Raina were making their way across the parking lot now, just as fresh raindrops started to land on my windshield.

“You coming for lunch, Gabrielle?” Clint asked, rolling down his window as he drove past my truck and the awkwardness of our conversation. “Hey, Mav. You should come too.”

I gave them all a wave, then they drove off.

“Get in,” I ordered her, tired of this indecipherable bullshit. She was all over me one minute, holding my hand, letting me eat her ass, and tickle her tonsils with my cock. Now she seemed almost embarrassed to be standing there talking to me. What the fuck?

Luckily, she complied and climbed up into the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling her belt.

I hit the start button and peeled out of the parking lot.

Jagger and Raina weren’t far behind us. “What the fuck’s going on with you?

” I asked, bouncing my gaze between her and the road.

“Are you embarrassed of me or something? Because not trying to brag or anything, but I’m a hell of a catch.

Successful, kind, tall, athletic, pretty good in bed if your six orgasms a day are any indication.

If you ignore the degenerative vertebrae and early onset osteoarthritis, I’m the cream of the fucking crop. So what the hell is your problem?”

Maybe it was the conversation with Alice, and my frazzled nerves, but I was in fight-mode, and my patience was as thin as a wet paper bag.

I was tired of her wanting to sneak around.

We’d been together for over two weeks and hadn’t so much as stepped foot anywhere together on the island besides her house or my cabin. Enough was enough.

What was the big deal if people from the island saw us together? We were adults. The kids were fine with it. Yes, small towns gossiped, but maybe if we got ahead of the gossip and “came out” on our own terms, it wouldn’t be front page news.

She remained quiet as I navigated the wet roads, my wipers doing their job as the raindrops grew bigger.

Her fingers twisted around each other in her lap and she stared straight ahead, nibbling thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

I reached over and untucked that lip from her teeth and she sucked in a small, sharp breath before glancing over at me.

“I’m not used to people knowing my business.

I’m not used to people knowing anything about me.

” Worry caused creases to form on either side of her amber eyes.

“People know everything about you. And you seem fine with it. I … I don’t know how you do it. ”

“People don’t know everything about me.”

“You have a Wikipedia page. Kids wear your jersey, and you’re the face of Sequoia Mist deodorant. People know you.”

I shrugged. “Okay. So people know me. Or they think they know me. They know what I allow them to know. But they don’t know the real me.

They don’t know that I had a lisp until I was eight, or throw up at the sight or sound of someone else throwing up.

They don’t know that I scored a fourteen-ninety on my SATs.

Or that I bawl like a fucking baby every time I watch Disney’s Up!

. They know my stats. They know my generic history.

That I’m Kirby’s son, Rebel and Riot’s little brother.

But they don’t know me. Not like you know me. ”

A fresh wave of color rushed up her neck and into her cheeks.

“I want this, Gabrielle. I want us . And I’m tired of hiding. I know you said you’d come make cheese with me tomorrow, but were you actually planning to come? Or were you going to bail?”

She stayed quiet and turned her head to stare out the side window, a muscle working overtime in her clenched jaw.

“That’s what I thought.” The sign for the pub and cabins came into view.

“Maverick,” she said softly, her bottom lip wobbling with each syllable. “It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is. Stop being so afraid of what everyone else thinks of you. You are a fucking badass. The biggest badass I’ve ever met.

You ran barefoot, pregnant, with a baby on your hip, while grown men chased you, and you turned them into the police.

Then you raised your kids all on your own, got a degree, then a law degree, and chose to help women get out of similar situations that you used to be in.

If that is not the definition of a badass, then I don’t care to know what is.

A person who accomplished all of that shouldn’t give two shits what anyone says about them.

Least of all some gossipy sewing circle marms who have nothing better to do than spread rumors and crochet emotional support pickles. ”

We reached the property, and I slowed my roll as we rumbled down the gravel laneway toward the pub.

“I’m not coming in,” I said, hitting the brake and stopping. “I have some shit to do. You go on and celebrate with your friends and family.”

She blinked and swallowed. “I … I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” was all I could croak out.

She leaped out of the truck, and I waited for her to walk around the grill before I pulled ahead and made my way to my cabin.

I caught a glimpse of her in my rearview mirror, standing there at the front of the pub, watching me drive away, the rain dampening her waves. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to park the truck, jump out, and run to her.

I wasn’t looking for a declaration of love, or some grand gesture where she stood on a chair in a room full of people and announced that we were sleeping together. All I wanted was to be able to go somewhere—anywhere—with her and not have her pretend she barely knew me, or like I had leprosy.

I might only be twenty-six, but I already knew I was too old for the drama, too old for the emotional whiplash. Maybe I needed to pack up my podcast and go somewhere else. Somewhere people weren’t embarrassed to be seen with me.