Page 16 of Offside and Off-Limits (Love in Maple Falls #2)

Her phone rings in her purse, and she climbs down from the stool and walks into the living room to answer it as I busy myself making a carbonara sauce out of the pancetta, eggs, thickened cream, and parmesan, the ingredients lined up on the counter in a way even Asher would approve of.

I'm about to place the fresh fettuccini pasta into a pot of boiling water when she returns, still holding the phone to her ear. “Everything okay?”

She holds her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “I’m sorry, Cade, but I need to go.”

Disappointment slams into me. “What? Why?”

“My sister’s husband is out, and she has the kids, but she's been called into work. She runs the town’s farmers’ market and apparently there was some problem.”

“Have her drop them off here.”

Her eyes widen. “Here?”

“Why not? I can show Benny my comic collection, and I can easily make more pasta sauce if they haven’t eaten.”

“You want my kids here in this fancy house? Are you serious?”

“One hundred percent. Do they like fettuccini carbonara?”

She appears to think about it for a moment before she thanks me and lifts the phone to her ear once more.

“Cade says the kids can come here for some pasta, so can you drop them off on the way?

It's the O'Connor's house.” Her sister must remark on the house because Clara replies, “You know these hockey players. They love their fancy houses.”

I shrug because she's right. “We’re big guys. We need big places.”

“Okay. See you in ten.” She hangs up and puts her phone on the counter. “What can I do to help?”

“Do you and your kids like tomatoes on your salad?”

“Sure do.”

I push a board and knife over toward her and grab a couple of tomatoes from the bowl on the counter behind me. “Chop these babies right up.”

She runs some water, washing the tomatoes. “Can I be honest with you?”

“That depends on whether or not you’re planning on saying something nice,” I tease as I stir the mixture in the pot.

She smiles. “It’s nice.”

“Then throw that honesty right at me, Triple.”

She begins to slice the tomatoes. “You’re not the guy I thought you were.”

“That’s because I’m like a seven-layer dip, just with more emotional depth and less guacamole.”

“So what you’re saying is, you pair well with chips?” she asks, and I let out a laugh.

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“I’m embarrassed to admit that I thought you were all about flirting and having fun, without any other dip layers.”

“You see, that’s only my top layer.”

“So I’m beginning to learn.”

We share a look, and my belly does a weird somersault thing I’m definitely not talking to the guys about at practice tomorrow.

“I heard a rumor,” she begins.

“It’s all true. I am total boyfriend material.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Are you ever serious?”

I put down my knife and look at her. “What’s the rumor?”

“It was from my boss, actually. Veronica Reynolds. She told me about how you had a thing with the New York City Blades owner’s daughter and nearly got traded when it went sour.”

Her words take me by surprise, but it’s the truth, so I say as much.

She blinks at me in shock. “You’re not going to deny it?”

“Of course not. Misty O’Mara, the owner’s daughter, approached me, being very explicit about wanting what she called a ‘no strings attached fling with the team’s playboy.

’ Her words, not mine, though I'll admit, at the time, that reputation wasn't entirely undeserved. I thought we were both clear on the terms. I was young, stupid, and flattered by the attention.” I pause, catching Clara's eye.

“Wisdom and hockey players don't always go hand in hand.”

“What happened?”

“She told me she wanted more than I was willing to give. She then went to her dad, telling him that I’d broken her heart.”

“Did you? Break her heart, I mean?”

“Nah. I think Misty was just angry with me that I ended it first. She moved on pretty fast, marrying another guy on the team before the year was out. I think it was more her ego that was broken than anything.”

“Wait. Misty Petrenko? Married to the Blades’s defenseman, Stepan Petrenko?”

“Look at you with your hockey knowledge.”

“More Instagram knowledge, if I’m honest. She’s got a big following. She’s beautiful.”

I resume my task, stirring the sauce and adding the parmesan cheese. “You’re right across social media, huh?”

“I guess. I used it with my CFS to reach out to others, and it became an important part of my healing process.”

“Like the Chronic Warriors.”

“Exactly. Connection with others can show us we’re not alone. But then you know that already, hence your coming tonight. ”

I look up at her. “You know, I said you were a triple threat, but I think you’re actually quadruple.”

“Why?”

I count them off on my fingers. “Because not only are you a total babe, a mom, and a social media expert, but you’re smart, too.”

“Thanks?” she says with a laugh, and I watch for that familiar cheek flush, and when it happens I want to punch the air.

Either that or kiss her.

Man , do I want to kiss her.

But instead, we work side by side to make fettuccini carbonara as though cooking together is something we’ve done for an eternity, rather than just this one time.

It feels nice. Homey. A guy could get used to having a woman like Clara Johnson around.

I serve up the food, keeping some behind for her kids, and we chat about inconsequential things as we eat, and I learn more about this woman who can knock the air right out of me with just one look.

I catalogue the facts in my mind as she speaks, everything from her favorite music to the fact she was a cheerleader in high school—which creates a new image in my head to rival even the hot librarian.

Just as I insist that I clear the table, the doorbell rings and Clara springs to her feet. “That’ll be Keira and the kids. Do you mind if I get it?”

“Be my guest.”

I hear them before I see them, their excitement at seeing their mom and telling her about the things they’ve been up to filling the air. I wipe my hands on a towel and make my way around the counter to greet them.

“Hey, Benny,” I say when I spot my little comic buddy. I hold out my hand for a low high five, which he takes with enthusiasm. “ You worked it out yet that Zara Kazan is the true hero of The Timekeeper Chronicles ?”

“No way! It’s Max,” he says vehemently, sticking to his favorite.

I smile at the pretty blonde woman and the girl, who looks a lot like her mom and her aunt. “Hey, I’m Cade,” I say.

“I’m Keira Roberts, and this is Hannah,” she replies, her hands on Hannah’s shoulders.

“Hey guys. Great to meet you,” I say, shaking Keira’s hand and high fiving Hannah, who does so more cautiously than her brother.

The family resemblance is strong, each person with varying shades of blond hair, and all with those big piercing blue eyes Clara possesses.

“It’s so kind of you to have not only Hannah and Benny, but Clara, too,” Keira says, and I think I detect a playful tone in her voice.

“Your sister is such a handful,” I tease, my gaze flashing to Clara’s.

Keira's blonde and pretty, objectively speaking, and she and Clara could pass for twins at a pinch. Same hair, same delicate features, same blue eyes. But where Keira's smile is perfectly nice, Clara's smile hits me like a sucker punch to the solar plexus.

Keira’s eyes brighten. “That she is. Hey, I’m sorry to drop and run, but I’ve gotta go,” Keira says, giving her sister a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks again, sis,” Clara says.

“As long as you two had a good time, then it’s all worth it,” Keira replies, and Clara throws her a warning look that makes me chuckle.

“We’ve had a wonderful time. Right, Clara?” I say, and Keira nudges her sister, who looks totally mortified by the conversation.

And yup, that makes me laugh some more .

“See you later, munchkins,” Keira says to the kids, and then she throws us a wave and leaves.

“Hey, Benny. Let me show you something,” I say.

“What?” he asks.

I pad over to the wooden cabinet by the dining room and pull the doors open. Benny’s eyes grow to the size of hockey pucks as he takes in my The Timekeeper Chronicles collection of comic books, framed posters, collectible action figures—still in their boxes—and other merch.

“You’ve got everything !” he exclaims.

“Not everything, but it’s true, I’ve got a lot of the merch.” I pick up one of the framed pictures I plan on hanging on the wall. “This is from the comic book illustrator. I met her in Vegas a few years back. She’s super talented.”

“Wow!” He swivels to look at Clara. “Mommy, have you seen this?”

“I’m seeing it now,” she replies.

Benny bounces on the spot. “You’ve even got an action figure of Max Griffin. He’s my favorite!”

I collect the box and pass it to him. “Take it. It’s yours now.”

His already huge eyes bulge. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Cade, you don’t need to do that,” Clara interjects.

“I know I don’t, but I want to,” I say with a shrug, because watching Benny’s ecstatic expression as he turns the toy over in his hands is better than any collectible.

“Let me at least pay you for it,” she offers.

“Not happening,” I say, making my way over to Clara’s daughter. “Hey, Hannah, right?” I ask and she nods. “I hear you play the piano.”

“You’re not going to give her your piano, are you?” Clara says and I waggle my brows at her as though I just might.

“I only started lessons this year, but I hope to be as good as Leo Garabaldi by the Show Quest,” she says.

“How good is Leo Garibaldi? ”

“He’s going to play ‘Believer.’”

“The Imagine Dragons song?” I ask and she nods.

“I want to play a Taylor Swift song, but my teacher thinks I should play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’”

“When’s this Show Quest?” I ask.

“It’s the week before Thanksgiving, but I’m not sure I’ll enter.” Her features drop.

“Why not?” I ask.

“Hannah had a bit of a bad experience at her figure skating showcase last month. She’s got a touch of stage fright now that we’re working on. Right, sweetheart?” Clara says.

Hannah gives a grim nod, her little mouth pulled into a line.

I do some mental math. The week before Thanksgiving is just under two months from now. If she’s only just started lessons, she’s got a steep learning curve to learn a Taylor Swift song by then.

I lean my hands on my knees to reduce my 6’4” frame, getting closer to Hannah’s height. It’s fair to say there’s still a sizable gap between us. “You know, I’ve got a piano. Wanna check it out?”

Hannah looks wary.

“It’s a baby grand made in Austria,” Clara adds. “Cade said it’s top of the line. He calls it Bess. Can you believe that, sweetheart?”

Hannah twists her mouth. “Bess?”

“That’s right. Come on. I’ll play something with you.” I flash my eyes to Clara’s, and she shoots me a grateful look.

“That sounds fun, sweetheart,” she encourages.

“I guess,” Hannah replies and together we make our way to the piano, where I pull the stool out for us both to sit down.

“What do you know how to play?”

“‘Mary Had a Little Lamb,’ ‘ Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ and ‘ Chopsticks,’ although Mommy doesn’t like that one.”

“It’s just that you play it a lot, honey,” Clara explains.

“It’s because it’s fun!” Hannah replies .

“I’ve got an idea. How about we play ‘Chopsticks’ together and show Mommy just how good it can be?” I suggest.

Benny laughs from his position by the cabinet, the action figure in his hands. “She’s not your mommy!”

“You’ve got a point there, Benny,” I say, my eyes flashing to Clara’s. Her face is lit up in a smile, and my belly does that somersault thing again. “Right, ‘Chopsticks.’ You know this part, right?” I play the tune and Hannah nods. “All right. You play that and I’ll add to it. Ready, maestro?”

“Ready,” Hannah says and immediately begins to play the tune.

Once she’s completed one iteration, I add some harmony, hamming it up like I’m some professional pianist, which makes Benny laugh and Hannah crack a smile.

The best bit? I notice Clara is absolutely beaming.

So, I add some flourishes, really getting into it as Hannah’s little tongue pokes out in concentration.

Yeah, I'm definitely showing off now, but not for the usual reasons.

This isn't about impressing anyone or playing the charming hockey star. This is about being part of something real, something that has nothing to do with the ice or the team or any of the noise that usually fills my world.

It's just us. Just this moment. Clara beaming from the couch as she watches us, Benny giggling at my theatrical flourishes, Hannah proud of holding her own. It's simple and it’s perfect and it’s everything I know I’ve been missing.

This is what a family feels like, and with Clara, I begin to feel I could build something lasting, something solid and real.

For the first time in my adult life, I'm not thinking about the next game, the next season, or what anyone expects from me. I'm just here, in this moment, it feels like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.