Page 6 of Next Season
“Don’t hold back now.” He snorted in amusement.
“Okay, you’re bad.” I held up a hand like a stop sign. “Not you, personally. I think you’re very talented. But your team…meh. I’m prejudiced, though. I’m from Quebec. We have the worst weather, but we do hockey better. There’s no point in arguing, right?”
He barked a laugh. “You’re a lot.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t think that was a compliment.” Riley nibbled a fry, his eyes crinkled with humor. He looked decidedly more relaxed now and more handsome than ever.
I smiled good-naturedly. “It’s better if I take it as one. I’m very sensitive.”
“Noted. As for Childress…I don’t know what to say. He’s young.”
“You’re not old.”
“I’m thirty-five. Ancient in hockey years.”
“I’m forty. I am dead in gay years.C’est la vie.”
Riley ate another fry. “You’re gay?”
“Oui, we’re a rare breed in this town,” I lamented theatrically. “But we’re not talking about me or the other gays. We’re talking about the kid who wants your job. Don’t let him have it.”
“It’s not up to me. Childress is hungry…and he’s a flashy player with promise who can score.”
“Ahh, the politically correct reply. I understand. It’s probably in your contract to pretend to be neutral about your teammates. That would be difficult for me.”
“You say it like you see it,” he observed with another snort.
“Mmhmm. The truth is, he’s young and greedy. He likes the limelight, the applause.”
“Who doesn’t?”
I scoffed. “Not me.”
“You literally came over here to browbeat me into eating this burger so I could tell you it’s delicious.” Riley held up the burger in question and took another bite.
“Merci.And you’re eating, so my work here is done. Welcome to Elmwood. I hope you heal quickly. If you need anything, call…someone else,” I joked. “Or come by for dinner sometime. I serve more than a plain burger, and my specials are…très bien.”
“No doubt. What’s for dinner tomorrow?”
“I haven’t decided. Perhapscoq au vin. I braise my chicken in a luscious burgundy with tasty mushrooms and crispy pancetta. Sublime.” I kissed my fingers as I stood.
“Then I’ll be back. Nice to meet you, Jean-Claude.”
Nolan gave me a curious look in the kitchen. Thankfully, he was on his way to coach the juniors, so he didn’t have time to interrogate me in depth. That was good because if he’d been paying attention, he might have noticed I’d been more charming than usual, and he might have even suggested that I was guilty of flirting with the hockey hunk. And…he would have been correct.
Which was uncharacteristic enough to warrant an explanation. I didn’t flirt. Ever. I certainly didn’t flirt with straight men.
* * *
Riley wasat the diner on Tuesday for breakfast. I spotted him and Vinnie in the parking lot on my way to the coffee shop to harass Ivan about his uninspired latte art. I paused at the corner and waved when Vinnie called my name.
Wednesday, Riley showed up for lunch alone. He sat in the same booth in the rear, wearing sunglasses and a Mariners ball cap. He ordered a tuna on rye with french fries. I was busy preparing for dinner, but I instructed the cook on duty to add a salad, compliments of Jean-Claude. I didn’t check on Riley or say hello, and he didn’t ask to see me. But he ate everything on his plate…including the greens.
Thursday, he came by around three p.m. for…what was the lunch and dinner mix? Linner? I was busy with myrouxand didn’t pay attention to Riley’s order, but it was hard to miss the stir in the air at his appearance.
“Is that Riley Thoreau?”