Page 29 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Bri

Penn: I tried knocking on your door last

night to say hi, were you asleep?

Me: I was out studying with a friend. Thanks for

the concern, dad .

Penn: I prefer daddy actually ;)

Me: Don ’ t make me nauseous.

Penn: Are you home now?

Me: Wouldn ’ t you like to know.

Penn : Actually, I would. I ’ m bored, let ’ s hang

out.

Me: Can ’ t.

I mean, I technically can, it ’ s a holiday weekend. The team got a rare three days off in a row, and from what I hear, most of them are taking advantage of the break. Cami and the fam went away for a few days, which means no babysitting duties for me.

She found a spa retreat where they could all hang out at. Being the amazing woman she is, she of course offered for me to come along, but I didn ’ t want to crash their family time.

So that means I can rot away, watching all my favorite trashy shows, and just relax.

Penn: You ’ re literally watching reality TV.

I think you can hang out with me.

My eyes widen as I panic search for a six-foot something hockey player who somehow managed to make it through my locked door. I rip for the remote and hit the power button, shutting off my show.

“ Smooth,” Penn ’ s amused voice calls from outside the door with a laugh. The keyword being outside , because somehow my anxious brain thought he could transcend the laws of physics for a moment there.

I try to stay as quiet as possible. If he comes in, I can ’ t be responsible for my actions.

The goal for the week was zero contact, but we ’ ve been exchanging texts here and there.

I don ’ t know if the distance was enough for me to be able to play it cool and stay firm in the friend zone.

I also don ’ t trust myself enough to test it.

Penn: Come on, please?

Me: I was about to study. Don ’ t need

distractions.

Come on, Penn. Drop it. I ’ m a terrible liar.

Penn: Distracting? Moi?!

Penn: You give me too much credit, Soup. I ’ m

sure you ’ ll be able to control your lust for me.

I ’ ll just watch sports highlights or something.

Me: I have an idea…

Penn: Yeah? What ’ s that?

Me: How about you watch that in your own home?

Penn: Can ’ t, I don ’ t have any food…

Our code knock comes from the door. I ’ m mad that I can recognize the pattern so easily now. Something—I don ’ t know what—makes me take pity on him because I ’ m up and reluctantly opening the door for him seconds later.

“ Thank god. I thought I was going to waste away out here.”

“ Ya-huh. You look reduced to nothing, losing all your bulk.”

“ I know, right?!” He flexes, his muscles bulging against his t-shirt. With a wink, he steps in the door, starting to make himself at home. “ Wait…”

“ What?” I sigh.

“ Do you want to meet Bean?!”

“ Mia ’ s cat?”

“ Jack and Mia ’ s cat, yes. Also, my godson.” Oh, here we go...

“Are they aware you ’ ve appointed yourself as such?”

“ It ’ s an honorary title. They trust me enough to watch him for the weekend, so I ’ m pretty sure it ’ s a lock.”

“ Sure it is, bud.” I tap his shoulder. This man…

“ Well, do you?”

“ Now?”

“ No, Soup, next week. When we ’ re at our away game… I ’ ll send you a picture or something.” His sarcasm is a little too exaggerated. It definitely doesn ’ t suit him. He shakes his head. “ And you call yourself a genius…”

I scoff. “ I do not call myself a genius.”

He shrugs. “ Well, I do. Come on.” With that, he tugs on my arm, leading me out of my apartment. I barely have enough time to grab my tote and keycard.

He scans his lock but pauses in the doorway, levelling me with a serious stare. “ Wait, are you good with cats?” His concern is endearing. He ’ s obviously taking his caretaking duties seriously, but I love animals.

“ Get down on their level, let them sniff you, take things at their pace.” I rattle off all the cat tips I ’ ve gleaned in my lifetime to try and settle his nerves.

I like that you have to earn their trust by reading their cues and respecting their boundaries.

If a cat likes you, it means you ’ ve worked hard to build that relationship.

Penn seems pleased with my reply .

As soon as the door swings open, I hear little excited pitter-patters run to the door.

“ Beanie-Boy!” Penn calls, immediately flopping to the ground belly first. Bean eyes me for a moment, but proceeds to floss Penn ’ s nose.

“ Uncle Penn missed you, buddy.” He couldn ’ t have been waiting at my door for more than two minutes, so I don ’ t know why he ’ s acting like he ’ s just returned from war or something.

He pets Bean ’ s deep chocolate fur, much to the kitty's delight. “ Remember how I said I was going to bring a friend over? Well, she ’ s here. Don ’ t worry though, she ’ s cool,” he whispers low enough for me to barely catch the words.

“ How ’ d you know I ’ d come?”

He shrugs. “ Just hopeful, I guess.”

Standing once again, he grabs my hand to urge me forward. “ Bridgette, this is Bean.”

“ So formal…” I joke.

“ Well, this is a serious matter. Besides… I ’ m the only one who gets to call you Soup.” I don ’ t know why the possessive nature of those words sends excitement to my core. I shouldn ’ t like that—because, I mean, I hate that nickname—but I do.

“ Hi, Bean.” I sink to my knees, extending one finger in the cat ’ s direction. Bean happily sniffs it before taking a few steps closer to me and rubbing his tail against my body.

“ He likes you!” Penn calls out way too loudly, getting both Bean's and my attention. “ Sorry.” He corrects his tone. “ He likes you,” he whispers this time before scooping up the fluff ball, walking over to the couch, and plopping down.

“ How long are you on babysitting duty for?” I ask, sitting down next to an already cuddled Bean.

“ A few days. Jack and Mia went up north to Wyndham. It ’ s like, their favorite place. I went for a few weeks this summer.”

“ Yeah, I heard. Mia was telling me a bit about it, it sounds pretty nice.”

“ They seem to like it. I think they might move there after Jack retires.”

“ Oh? Is he planning to do that soon?”

Penn shifts in his seat. “ Uh, last I heard, after this season.”

“ Oh.” I didn ’ t think players usually retired that early. Jack ’ s still young—why stop if he can still play? Doesn ’ t make sense to me.

“ Yup. So it ’ ll just be me, here all by myself if that happens.” His mouth twists slightly, failing to conceal the bitterness in his words.

“ Your family doesn ’ t live nearby?”

He sighs, staring ahead, absent-mindedly stroking Bean ’ s head. “ My parents live in Ottawa, and my brother, Reid, was supposed to come live here, but I guess there was a change of plans. I didn ’ t even know he applied, but he just accepted a job with the Vortex.”

“ That ’ s another hockey team, right?”

“ Yup. So not only will he now be training the enemy, but he ’ s moving across the country to Vancouver.

My parents are there now helping him move in.

I wanted to go too, but there ’ s not enough time for me to help.

No clue when I ’ ll see him again. So it ’ s just me and Bean.

” He sighs. “ Well, and you too, I guess.” The smile he gives me is warm, appreciative, even.

“ Maybe you ’ ll see him when you play the Vortex? Will he travel with the team?”

“ Yeah, but—”

“ But, what, Penn?”

“ It just feels like everyone is moving on with their lives. Jack found Mia and has gone pretty much AWOL with love and happiness. Reid is moving a million miles away, never to be seen again, and I ’ m just here. Struggling to keep up.” He rubs a hand down his face while blowing out a breath.

“ It ’ s fine. I ’ m really happy for them, but at the same time, it ’ s a little sad. Guess that ’ s what happens when you grow up. Life is getting real now.”

“ It ’ s hard when you feel like you ’ re getting left behind.”

“ I ’ m trying not to, though, like this year, I ’ ve been really cracking down on moving forward.

Theo ’ s a good influence, and he ’ s laser-focused.

I like that I have him here, too, but it ’ s just different.

His spot on the team is practically guaranteed.

He works harder than anyone, and I just feel like I—”

“ Don ’ t compare yourself to him.”

“ Everyone else seems to,” he mumbles before shaking off the sentiment.

“ But you ’ re your own person, and you ’ re doing things your own way.”

“ It ’ s just hard this year. I think I realized I have a lot of growing up to do.”

I rest my hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze when his head turns to me. “ If it makes you feel any better, Penn. You ’ ll be forever a child.”

He laughs, but it ’ s dry. “ I ’ m glad you ’ re here, Soup.”

“ Me too,” I reply quietly.

“ Sorry, what was that?” Penn asks, cupping his hand to his ear, giving me a blank stare.

“ Don ’ t push your luck.” I level him with a playful warning glare, and his hands shoot up in defense.

“ Wouldn ’ t dream of it. Why ’ d you have to study anyway, it ’ s a holiday weekend.”

“ I have this massive project at school, it ’ s spanning until the rest of the semester, and I want to get ahead.”

“‘ Course you do.” This time, when he smiles, it reaches his eyes. It ’ s a look full of admiration.

“ Plus, my partner is super smart, so I want to make sure I ’ m carrying the weight for him too.”

“ Him ?”

“ Yeah, earth to Penn, it ’ s not the nineteenth century. Boys and girls can learn together now.”

“ I honestly thought you ’ d rather work alone.”

“ I know, right. I asked my prof if I could…” As soon as I say it, the corners of his mouth lift in that knowing way.

My stomach tightens, a knot forming as his gaze holds mine—and I realize he ’ s already figured me out.

It ’ s unsettling how easily he can read me.

I don ’ t like it. “ It uh, wasn ’ t an option.

Clark ’ s smart, though, and he picks me up from Java sometimes so we can head to class together. ”

“ That is very nice of him.” His expression shifts, turning a bit colder, and he swallows. “ What do you guys talk about?”

I clear my throat. Not sure why this feels like an interrogation. “ Classes mostly. All of us in the program have the same schedule, so it ’ s helpful to discuss readings, exchange notes and stuff. Kind of like a debrief before lectures. I mostly appreciate not having to walk, though.”

“ I ’ m glad he ’ s helping you out, Soup.”

“ Um, thanks.” I adjust in my seat, staring ahead at the black TV screen. The loudest grumble I ’ ve ever heard—possibly the loudest in the history of mankind—echoes through the room. Penn looks at me with a sheepish grin.

“ Sorry, hungry. Wanna order food?”

“ I sort of have a turkey dinner prepped,” I admit. He looks at me like I just grew three heads. “ I can bring it here and cook it if you want…”

He rubs his hand down his face, mumbling something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like marry me, before clambering to his feet, pulling me up with him. He pulls me into a bear hug, wrapping me in warmth and the scent of his cologne. It ’ s comforting, enveloping me completely.

“ What was that for?” I ask as we pull apart.

“ I ’ m just really happy to be spending Thanksgiving with you.”