Page 60 of Hotshot
I widened my eyes comically. “I had no idea you were so cutthroat.”
“Only about hockey.”
“Yikes. Do you tell the camp kids to get their asses in gear and quit fucking off like a drill sergeant?”
“No, summer hockey is chill. I don’t coach big groups. They usually give me one or two teens at a time who need to work on shooting,” he said. “Or I assist Jake…or Smitty.”
“Your old coach?”
Denny nodded. “Yeah, he’s awesome. He can be a hardass in the regular season, but he’s a goofy teddy bear at camp. LikeVinnie. They entertain the kids while I remind them to keep their eyes on the puck.”
“I bet the kids will freak the fuck out having you as a coach this year.”
“Nah, I’m not the fun one. Too serious.”
“I don’t think you’re too serious,” I argued, plucking my hat off his head. I put it on my own head and offered my sunglasses in trade. “I think you like having fun as much as anyone, but you’re a control freak. Type A to the max.”
Denny pushed the sunglasses on and nodded. “True. Are you like me, or are you a slob?”
“Oh, I’m a hot mess. You wouldn’t know it looking at me. I fake having my shit together.”
“You? No way.”
“Way. I have good ideas, but I’m not great with follow-through. I have a reputation in my family for not finishing what I start. They’re not wrong. I feel like I’m always going backward. The fact that I’m working for my dad when I swore I’d never do it again tells you something about me.”
“That you wanted to help him out so you could live in his fancy house in Elmwood with not one, but two toilets in your bathroom?”
I tipped the brim of my hat. “You caught me.”
“What’s up with this house? It’s so extra.”
“I have no idea. Some designer from Dallas probably drew up plans for the remodel and Dad signed off without a second thought. He can be kind of showy with the high-end BS—the nicest cars, best table at the finest steak house, and beautiful homes filled with rooms no one goes in. But it’s all for show. My dad grew up dirt poor. He worked on oil rigs in the Gulf and met someone who needed loggers and was willing to pay more. Ten years later, he took over that mill, and five years after that, he was selling products to home-building emporiums and lumbersupply chains across the country. Not too shabby for a high school dropout.”
“Impressive.”
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed. “Of course, your grandmother would say that anyone with two toilets in one bathroom was full of shit, so do me a favor and don’t tell her.”
He barked a laugh. “You already know her well.”
“I’m a quick study. She’s the town’s bullshit police. I saw her at the market the other day raising hell over the price of tomatoes.”
“Grams takes some getting used to,” Denny conceded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I wasn’t happy about coming here and living with her. I didn’t know her well at all, and she seemed so cranky and old. My plan was to wait till summer, then make my escape. But she grew on me. For everything she complained about, she did a good deed…almost as if she were covering up being nice. She made breakfast every day, signed me up for hockey, refurbished my dad’s old bicycle. She never asked for anything in return. I don’t think she knows how to.”
“She might be a handful, but people respect her,” I said. “And you too.”
“That’s ’cause I play hockey.”
“So I’m gonna have to learn how to play hockey, huh?”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” he joked.
“All right. You’ll have to teach me how to skate first.”
He raised a brow. “You really don’t know how?”
“Nope. I tried once, and it was ugly. I fell twenty times in less than ten minutes. Everything hurt,” I groused. “Especially my butt.”
“I’ll give you lessons this summer. If you want, you can strap a pillow around your ass to cushion your fall.”