Page 8

CHAPTER 8

Rafferty

C hecking my watch, I see I have at least an hour before I have to leave for the arena for our game against the Phantoms tonight. I resist the urge to check my texts to see if Tempe responded to my last message. I let her know that I requested tickets for her, Cooper and his friend and that I’ll send her a confirmation code. Every player has access to a small pool of tickets we can purchase for any home game in addition to season tickets we might hold. My family isn’t able to visit enough to make such a purchase sensible, so this was the way to go. I requested tickets close to the ice near our bench, but I’m not sure if I’ll get them.

I hadn’t really expected a response as I know she’s working, but a man can hope.

I expend some of my nervous energy by picking up clutter around my condo. I chose a modern loft building in the North Shore to be close to the arena. I specifically didn’t consider a house as many of my teammates do because I didn’t want to deal with upkeep on a yard or exterior maintenance. My life has always been about simplicity, which makes this whole debacle with Tansy and Tempe hilariously ironic.

Still… not sure I’d trade away this experience, only for the fact of meeting such a cool woman like Tempe.

I pick up my empty mug from the coffee table and rinse it in the kitchen sink. I straighten the stack of sporting magazines that I thumb through while watching ESPN in my free time and set my throw pillows in place. A stray pair of tennis shoes wedged under the sofa are relocated to my bedroom closet, and I pick up my discarded shower towel in the bathroom, tossing it in the hamper.

That’s the extent of my need to clean up as I’m a bit of a neat freak. I might not put everything back where it needs to go right when I’m done using it, but it never sits out in the wrong place for long.

I make another sweep through the condo which features an open floor plan. My furniture is sleek and contemporary, and the floors are polished hardwood. Whoever owned this place before me decorated in cool-toned blues and grays, and I like it enough to not feel the burning need to change anything. It most certainly doesn’t clash with my cream-colored leather sofa and love seat.

The kitchen, which flows from the living area, boasts gleaming stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and a breakfast bar with leather stools. The entire wall bordering these two rooms are floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. Plenty of natural light floods the area, enhancing the condo’s airy feel.

I didn’t put a lot of thought into buying this place but over the last three months, it’s started to feel like a real home. That probably has more to do with the fact I’ve become immersed in the team and made some deep connections with my mates.

In my bedroom, I get dressed in my suit, leaving the tie hanging loosely over my shoulders until it’s time to walk out the door. I fasten on my Patek Phillipe watch, the first luxury item I ever bought myself when I got my first professional hockey paycheck. Since then, I’ve given in to a few more indulgences, but for the most part, I’m a simple guy.

I check my gear bag one last time and move it out into the living room. A look at my watch and I still have fifty minutes until it’s time to leave.

Nervous pacing to deal with the pre-game jitters seems to be about the only thing left to do as I don’t watch a lot of TV and if I pull out my phone to scroll, I’ll be tempted to text Tempe again. I’m only on my second pass across the expansive gleaming hardwood when there’s a knock at my door.

I halt in surprise, my head inclining that way. No one ever comes to visit me, at least not unannounced. For a tense moment, I consider the only one crazy enough to show up on my doorstep would be Tansy and given that she works fairly high up within the organization, she’d easily have access to my address.

Tentatively, I move to the door and with a heavy feeling of dread, I put my eye to the peephole.

Sparkling blue eyes identical to my own stare back at me.

I jerk the door open and stare in astonishment at my baby sister standing on the other side.

Arms held wide, she grins. “Surprise.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl, at the same time pulling her into a bear hug.

She laughs, squeezes me back, and I twirl her around twice for good measure before dumping her back on her feet. “No, seriously,” I deadpan. “What in the fuck are you doing here?”

“Does a little sister need a reason to visit her most awesome big brother?” she chirps, breezing by me but not before tossing a thumb over her shoulder. “Grab my bags.”

I look and see two large suitcases and a smaller carry-on sitting there, along with a large tote. Grumbling, I pull them all across the threshold. “How long are you planning on staying? An eternity?”

“Maybe,” she says with a laugh, heading straight for my fridge. She pulls out a beer, twists off the cap and tosses it in the garbage can under the sink. Farren’s been here on two other occasions to watch me play and knows where everything is.

“Did you fly in?” I ask, shutting the door. “I could have sent a car to pick you up if you’d told me you were coming.”

She spins around, her dark brown hair—same color as my own—catching the light as she plops down on an island stool. “Took the bus. It was a last-minute decision. I just… needed a change of scenery.”

I study her, noting how she doesn’t quite look me in the eye. She takes another sip of her beer, glancing around the condo.

Looking anywhere but at me.

“What’s going on?” I ask suspiciously.

Farren’s always been the wild card in our family, acting on impulse, never quite sticking to the script our parents hoped she’d follow. “Nothing’s going on,” she says dismissively.

“You left Calgary? Just like that? What about your job?”

“Oh, that,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “I quit. Things with Derek got messy, and I couldn’t stand being around him anymore.” Derek, her ex and the manager of the high-end bar where she worked, was a fairly decent guy although I’ve only met him a handful of times. He was a bit of a wet blanket, and I never understood what she saw in him because while my sister is all fire and ice, he was just sort of lukewarm.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Farren, you can’t just run away every time you get a wild hair up your butt.”

“I don’t do that.” She sniffs.

I shake my head, a small, wry smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “What about that time you jumped on a flight to Vegas because you were bored with your job? Or when you sold your car on a whim to fund that music festival road trip with people you barely knew?”

Farren crosses her arms, her brow furrowing as she tries to interject, but I roll right over her as I walk into the kitchen. “And let’s not forget how you moved into that luxury apartment last year—way out of your budget—just because it had a view of the river. You lasted what, two months, before you broke the lease?”

“You’re exaggerating,” my sister retorts, but I see the defiant glitter in her eyes. She knows I speak the truth just as I know she makes no apologies for her behavior.

Leaning on the counter across from her, I give her my serious, older brother look. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just worry about you. You leap without looking, and it’s going to catch up with you one of these days.”

“I know,” she huffs out, setting her beer on the counter. “You’re not exactly criticizing but merely conveying a level of concern bolstered by this innate protective instinct you have, punctuated by playful bickering allowed only because of the deep bond we share.”

I shake my head, chuckling at my sister. “You and your words. You should be a politician.”

Farren wrinkles her nose. “I’m not dishonest enough.”

That’s the truth. No matter how free-spirited she is, they don’t come any more honest or loyal than Farren Abrams.

“I’m not acting on a wild hair in this instance,” she demurs, twirling a finger in her hair. “Merely taking a tactical retreat from my rat wheel of a life.”

“And you plan on, what… staying here?”

“Sure. You have a spare bedroom.”

“For how long? And you’re going to pay me rent?” I prod.

“Yes,” she drawls, flashing me a toothy grin. “Of course I will. I just have to find a job first.”

“You could go to college,” I say, giving her a pointed look. It’s been the source of many arguments between my parents and Farren that she didn’t even consider this path, especially since she’s got a near genius level IQ.

Farren wrinkles her nose. “No thanks. I’m sure there are hundreds of bartending jobs. I’ll get something quick.”

I don’t bother mentioning that Hendrix’s fiancée, Stevie, owns a bar and I could probably hook Farren up with something. I’m not going to make it easy on her. “Two weeks,” I tell her with a stern look. “Have a job by then and you can stay.”

“Easy peasy,” she croons.

Despite my frustrations with her impulsiveness, a part of me is genuinely happy to have her here. Even though I’m four years older than her twenty-three years, we’ve always been close. And maybe that’s why I’m not really bothered by the five-year age gap between me and Tempe. I see so much of my sister’s vitality within her, although I definitely don’t have any brotherly thoughts about Tempe.

Quite the opposite.

“Are you hungry?” I ask and Farren nods. I turn to the fridge, pull out stuff for a quick hoagie. “Want to come to the game tonight? I can snag a ticket.”

“Well, duh,” she says with an eye roll. “There’s never a time I don’t want to see you play.”

A surge of fondness hits me. “I love you too, sis. Give me a second.”

From my phone, I send a quick text to our player services liaison, asking if it’s possible to add another ticket onto the three I requested so that they’re all together. After a bit of back-and-forth, he’s able to get four tickets only three rows off the ice and even provides me with the confirmation number. I, in turn, send it on to Tempe, making a note to send her a more detailed text to let her know about Farren.

Shoving my phone in my pocket, I turn to my sister who’s shoving a handful of potato chips into her mouth. “I added a ticket for you to a group of three I’d already arranged for some friends.”

Farren’s eyes flash with interest. “Are they hot and single guys by any chance?”

“No,” I growl and then add, “And gross. None of my friends should be of interest to you. Actually, it’s my friend Tempe and her younger brother, Cooper, and his friend, Danny.”

“Tempe?” She quirks an eyebrow, and I realize I haven’t told her about any of that yet. “You have a friend who’s a girl but not a girlfriend.”

“Well, that depends how you look at it,” I mutter. “It’s kind of a long story.” I take a deep breath, detailing everything from the fake girlfriend setup to deal with Tansy’s obsession, to Tempe’s unexpected role in all of it, and how it’s sort of evolved. Farren listens, her expressions ranging from amused to incredulous.

“So, let me get this straight,” she starts with her sandwich poised before her mouth. “You’re paying a woman to pretend to be your girlfriend because of Tansy, and now you might actually like her? That’s… kind of romantic, in a twisted sort of way.”

“Wait a minute,” I say, holding up my hand. “Who said I liked her?”

“I did.” She winks. “Because you went to her house and helped her mom and then got her and her brother hockey tickets.”

“That’s just added bonus to her for helping me out.”

“Whatever,” she says dismissively, but then her expression turns calculating. “I’m looking forward to meeting this Tempe. Sounds like a hoot.”

“You behave around her,” I warn, pointing my finger at my little sister.

“Of course I will,” she says, and I don’t believe it for a minute. But ultimately, I know Farren would never do or say anything to put me in a bad light, so I’m not too worried.

Turning my wrist over, I see I’m about five minutes late getting out the door. “I need to go. You good with taking an Uber to the arena?”

“Yup,” she says. “I’ll get settled in and then I want to take a shower to wash off the stink of bus.”

Laughing, I walk around the counter and give her a quick hug. “Glad you’re here.”

“Glad to be here,” she replies, squeezing me back extra hard.