Page 12 of Rookie’s Redemption (Iron Ridge Icehawks #5)

Chapter Eight

Mia

" A nd then… I kissed him."

The words tumble out of my mouth like a confession at Sunday service. Emma nearly drops the tray of cinnamon rolls she's pulling from the industrial oven in the back kitchen of Chapter and Grind.

"You WHAT?!" She sets the tray down with a clatter and spins around, flour dusting her apron. "Well, smack my ass and call me Betty. Did Mia Harper just say she kissed Ryder Scott?"

"Technically, I said I kissed him. Last night. On ice skates."

I'm perched on a stool at the prep counter, supposedly helping Emma get ready for the morning rush, but mostly just stealing bits of dough and having an existential crisis.

"Which actually sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud."

"It sounds romantic ," Emma corrects, abandoning her pastries entirely to grab my shoulders. "Holy shit, Mia! You kissed him! After years of stubborn denial and 'I don't need anyone' speeches, you actually kissed the man!"

"Don't make it sound like some grand romantic gesture," I protest, even though my cheeks are heating up. "It was... impulsive. Heat of the moment. He told me he organized a charity night for the shelter, and I just... lost my mind temporarily."

"Temporarily?" Emma's grin is diabolical. "Babe, you've been making heart eyes at that man since he walked back into town. This was inevitable."

I groan and bury my face in my hands. "I'm an idiot."

Emma laughs and returns to her cinnamon rolls, but I can feel her practically vibrating with excitement.

"So? How was it?" She asks. "The kiss, I mean. Was it like... movie kiss good? Or awkward 'we haven't done this in forever' good?"

Oh God.

The memory hits me like a freight train. Ryder's hands cupping my face, the way he tasted like winter air, the soft sound he made when I pressed my body closer.

"It was..." I pause, searching for words that won't make me sound like a teenager with her first crush. "It was really fucking good, Em."

"I KNEW IT!" She throws her hands up in triumph, sending a cloud of flour into the air. "I knew you two still had that crazy chemistry."

She slides a perfectly golden cinnamon roll onto a plate and pushes it toward me, the scent of warm butter and cinnamon wafting up like a comforting hug. The icing drips lazily down the sides, pooling in little sugary puddles on the ceramic.

"Eat this. You need sugar for what I'm about to tell you."

I take a bite, and the warm, gooey perfection nearly makes me moan. Emma's cinnamon rolls should be illegal. They're that good.

"Okay. This is good. What are you about to tell me?"

"Lucy and Sophia were here yesterday afternoon, huddled in the corner booth with poster board and markers." Emma's eyes sparkle with mischief. "They were making signs for Saturday night. Giant ones. With your shelter's logo and everything."

My stomach does a little flip. "They were making signs?"

"Big, beautiful, professional-looking signs." Emma leans against the counter, studying my face. "That boy is serious about this, Mia. This isn't just some guilt-driven grand gesture. He's putting real thought and effort into helping you."

"I know, Em. And that's what scares the shit out of me."

"Why?"

"Because what if this is just... nostalgia? What if he gets bored again? What if the NHL comes calling with some better opportunity and he leaves?" I break off a piece of the cinnamon roll, watching the icing drip. "I survived losing him once, Em. I don't think I could do it again."

Emma reaches across the counter and covers my hand with hers, flour and all. "Mia, you can't live your life protecting yourself from maybes. Sometimes you have to trust that the good things are real."

"Easy for you to say. You and Logan are practically married already."

"Logan and I are taking it one day at a time, just like everyone else," she says gently. "But we're taking it together. That's what matters."

I'm about to respond when my phone buzzes against the counter. The screen lights up with a number I haven't seen in years but somehow still recognize instantly.

Mrs. Scott.

"Oh my God," I breathe, staring at the phone like it might explode.

"What? Who is it?"

"Ryder's mom."

Emma's eyebrows shoot up. "Answer it!"

I swipe to accept the call, my heart hammering. "Hello?"

"Mia, sweetie! It's Carol Scott. I hope I'm not calling too early."

Her voice is exactly the same. Warm, maternal, with that slight breathiness that means she's excited about something.

"Mrs. Scott, hi. It's not too early at all. How are you?"

I will literally kill Ryder if he's done the old kiss-and-tell to HIS MOTHER.

"Oh, I'm wonderful, dear. Listen, I know this is short notice, but Tom and I were hoping you might join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy, just pot roast and family. We've missed having you around."

I nearly drop the phone.

Dinner. Tonight. With Ryder's parents.

"I... that's so sweet of you to ask, but I—"

"Ryder will be there, of course," she continues, as if this is a casual dinner invitation and not a potentially life-altering event. "We thought it might be nice to have everyone together again. Like old times."

Like old times. Before I knew better.

"Mrs. Scott, I don't know if that's such a good idea—"

"Nonsense. Six o'clock. And Mia? Wear something comfortable. You know I never did care about fancy clothes."

The line goes dead and I stare at my phone, mouth hanging open like a fish.

"Well?" Emma demands. "What did she say?"

"She invited me to dinner. Tonight. With Ryder." I look up at Emma, who's practically bouncing on her toes. "This has his fingerprints all over it, doesn't it?"

"Oh, absolutely. That boy is pulling out all the stops."

My phone rings again immediately. This time it's definitely Ryder.

" You ." I answer without preamble, my voice hard instantly. "Did you put your mother up to this?"

"Put her up to what?" His voice is innocence itself, but I can hear the smile on his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about, babe."

"Dinner, Ryder. Your mom just called and invited me to dinner tonight. And stop calling me babe! "

"Huh. Weird. I wonder how she got that idea."

"You know I'm going to kill you, right?"

"Get in line. Coach is already plotting my demise for missing a pass during drills." There's some muffled shouting in the background, and Ryder's voice becomes more distant. "Sorry, Coach! I said I was sorry!"

Despite myself, I'm smiling. "Are you seriously on the phone with me during practice?"

"Maybe. Possibly. Look, I should probably go before Coach makes me run suicides until I puke, but I'll pick you up at five-thirty?"

"I didn't say yes to dinner."

"See you then!"

"Ryder—"

"Gotta go! See you tonight!"

The line goes dead, leaving me staring at my phone again.

Emma claps her hands together like a small child on Christmas morning. "This is so exciting! You need to figure out what to wear. Something that says 'I'm not trying too hard but I look amazing anyway.'"

"I should get back to the shelter. Zoe's been alone with the puppies for too long, and—"

"The puppies will be fine for another twenty minutes. We need to discuss your outfit strategy."

I grab another piece of cinnamon roll, suddenly needing the sugar rush. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Believe it, honey. And try to have fun. It's just dinner with people who love you."

People who love me.

That thought alone makes my chest tight with a mixture of hope and terror.

"You look beautiful."

Ryder's standing on my doorstep at exactly five-thirty, looking unfairly handsome in dark jeans and a gray sweater that hugs his shoulders in all the right ways.

"I look like I'm trying too hard," I mutter, smoothing down the emerald green dress I finally settled on after trying on half my closet.

When you haven't gone out on a date in over five years, it's a bit difficult to find something 'nice' to wear.

"You look perfect." His eyes do a slow sweep from my face to my boots and back up, and the heat in his gaze makes my cheeks flush. "My mom's going to lose her mind when she sees you."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Definitely good." He steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Can I just say, I'm really glad you decided to come tonight."

"I'm still not entirely sure why I did."

"Because deep down, you missed them too."

He's right, of course. I've missed Tom's terrible dad jokes and Carol's way of making everyone feel like the most important person in the room. I've missed the chaos of their dinner table and the way they made me feel like I belonged.

I never had that with my own family. But the less said about that the better.

"Come on," Ryder says, offering me his arm. "Let's go."

By the time we pull into the Scotts' driveway, my nerves are shot.

The house looks exactly the same as it did eight years ago. White clapboard siding, hunter green shutters, and a wraparound porch that Tom built himself the summer before Ryder graduated.

"Ready?" Ryder asks, but he doesn't move to get out of the truck.

"Are you nervous too?"

"Terrified," he admits with a chuckle.

The front door opens before we can make it up the porch steps, and Carol Scott appears in the doorway like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She's wearing an apron covered in flour handprints and the biggest smile I've ever seen.

"Mia!" She doesn't wait for us to reach her. Instead, she hurries down the steps and wraps me in a hug that smells like vanilla cake and home. "Oh, sweetheart, look at you. You're even more beautiful than I remembered."

"Mrs. Scott—"

"Carol. You're a grown woman now. Call me Carol, or I'll be very upset with you, dear."

She holds me at arm's length, studying my face with those warm brown eyes that are so much like Ryder's.

"Tom! Get out here! Mia 's here!"

Tom Scott appears in the doorway, taller and grayer than I remember but with the same easy smile that made me feel welcome from day one. "Well, I'll be damned. Mia Harper."

"Hi, Mr. Scott."