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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Dozer

I glance at Marissa in the passenger seat of my truck, a heavy ceramic pie plate covered in foil balanced on her lap. She’s dressed up today, which isn’t unusual for her, though I’ve gotten more used to her casual looks since we’ve been hanging out more. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s dressed up to go to Nick and Tina’s for Thanksgiving, though. Her outfit’s more casual than the severe skirt suits she favors for work, but definitely dressier than the hoodie and jeans she wears to hockey games and out for drinks after or the joggers and oversized sweater she favors when coming over to my place. If we’re going out just to go out—not after a game—she tends to dress up a bit.

She’s still a princess, after all, even if she’s one who doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty.

Today she has on a drapey burgundy sweater that seems to criss cross over her front, leaving a deep V of exposed skin that shows off the swell of her cleavage. She’s paired the sweater with black pants, and the pointy toes of shiny black boots poke out from the hem. It’s effortlessly chic, which is how I’d sum up Marissa’s non-work going out attire.

It’s impressive, honestly.

“Are you nervous?” I ask at a stoplight.

She turns wide eyes on me. “Well, I am now!”

Laughing, I refocus on traffic as the light turns green.

“Seriously!” she protests. “Why would you even ask me that?”

I hold up a placating hand. “Sorry! I was going to reassure you if you were. Nick and Tina are great. They’ll love you, I promise. I’m pretty sure Bouchard is the only other guy coming. He’s Canadian, where they have Thanksgiving in October, but he loves coming to American Thanksgiving, so if he gets an invite, he’s there.”

“What if he gets more than one?”

Grinning, I shrug. “He goes where he thinks they’ll have the best food.”

That makes her chuckle. “Ah. I see. A few of my brothers friends were like that, I think.” She glances my way. “They were athletes, too, so it makes sense.”

“You mentioned he played football.”

“He did. Through college. He wasn’t good enough to go pro, but one of his roommates did. He played for the Washington Mountain Lions for a while but got traded to Florida last year.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “See? You are connected to a lot of interesting people.”

“I’m not sure that my brother’s college roommate who I never met counts as much of a connection.” Her voice is dry as the Sahara.

I shrug again. “It is in a six degrees of Kevin Bacon kind of way.”

That gets a bark of laughter out of her. “I guess that’s true. But you’re one to talk. You’re a professional hockey player! You know tons of famous athletes. Probably other types of celebrities too.”

“Nah. Not really other types of celebrities. But you’re just proving my point that you somehow manage to collect a whole roster of people connected to you who are in famous types of careers—your superstar sister and brother-in-law, your brother’s roommate, me. And soon you’ll be able to add Nick Abernathy and Jack Bouchard to that illustrious list.”

She giggles. “You think you’re illustrious, huh?”

“Obviously,” I say, leaning hard on the word to emphasize the aggrandizing sarcasm. “Who’s more illustrious than me?”

I park outside Nick and Tina’s house, looking over at Marissa to see her face scrunched up like she’s deep in thought.

“You know,” she says after a second in a wondering voice, “I can’t think of anyone more illustrious than you.” That comes out in the most patronizing way possible, and it makes me laugh.

“Good. I’m glad we agree about that.”

Her expression turns apprehensive before she unbuckles her seatbelt. “Welp. Here goes nothin’.”

“I told you,” I say, opening my own door and climbing out of the truck. “They’ll love you. How could they not?”

She gives a rueful chuckle. “How could they not, indeed?”

The question is quiet, like I’m eavesdropping on a conversation she’s having with herself and lacking context to boot.

Part of me wants to dig into that, but she’s walking toward the front door, leaving me no choice but to jog a couple steps to catch up to her. I ring the doorbell, and the front door swings open seconds later to reveal two kids bouncing with excitement. “Uncle Dozer! Uncle Dozer! Pick us up! Pick us up!”

“Kids,” comes Tina’s voice. “Is that how you welcome guests?”

Then Nick swoops in, tossing his youngest—Noah—up and over his shoulder. “You little beggars. You want everyone to pick you up!” he scolds them playfully.

They giggle and Noah squeals, then Shelby, who’s five, hops from foot to foot. “I want a turn, Daddy! I want a turn!”

I glance at Marissa to see her wide eyed, and I realize I didn’t adequately prepare her for the tornado that is the experience of Nick and Tina’s kids.

“We hang out a lot,” I say quietly. “The kids know me pretty well.”

“I can see that,” she murmurs.

Reaching for Shelby, I scoop her up and toss her over my shoulder like Nick has her little brother, making her squeal and wriggle. “Careful!” I caution. “Squirm too much and I might drop you.”

“No! Don’t drop me!” It’s a shrill cry, nearly daring me to do it.

Grinning, I fake like I’m going to drop her, letting her fall a few inches before catching her, making her squeal even louder.

“Uncle Dozer!”

I do it a few more times before crouching down and gently setting her on her feet.

She’s grinning as she swipes the hair out of her face. “I knew you wouldn’t drop me,” she says defiantly.

“Never,” I promise, swiping her hair back into her face.

Face scrunched in annoyance, she moves the hair away with one hand and whacks me on the shoulder with the other. “Uncle Dozer,” she scolds, “don’t do that.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “My deepest apologies, your highness.” She scampers off when her mom calls her, and I straighten up to find Marissa watching me with amusement from the entryway where she’s still standing, holding the pie plate in both hands, a long skinny gift bag holding a bottle of wine dangling from one hand.

“Hi,” Tina says, swooping in and reaching for the pie. “You must be Marissa. Dozer’s told us about you. Sorry for the poor manners around here.” She shoots me a censorious look. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to introduce people rather than abandoning your guest while you horse around with the kids? They can wait five minutes for you to make proper introductions.”

Sticking my hands in my pockets, I level an assessing look at Noah—who’s still squirming in Nick’s arms as he holds him up, lets him almost drop, then pulls him close and tickles him—and Shelby, who’s nearly hiding behind her mom now that she realizes there’s a stranger present. She watches Marissa with wide eyes, a finger between her lips like she’s uncertain what to make of my new friend.

“Everyone, this is Marissa. She just moved into my building right before preseason training started. She’s new to the area, and her family’s all in Texas.”

“Well,” she puts in. “That’s not entirely true. My brother lives in Spokane now, and my little sister’s home base is in California. She travels a lot, though, so there’s really no telling where she is at any given time.”

“That sounds exciting,” Tina says, ushering Marissa further into the house.

“Oh, should I take off my shoes?” Marissa asks, noticing the family all in sock feet.

But Tina waves her off. “Only if you want to.”

Biting her lip, Marissa meets my eyes, and I shrug. “It’s really up to you,” I reassure her, then nod toward the kitchen, where Tina’s carrying the pie and bottle of wine.

“Thank you so much for bringing this,” Tina says, setting her burdens on the breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the main living area. “What kind of pie did you bring?”

Marissa clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her ear. “It’s a chocolate chip pie. It’s from a recipe book my mom has from a bakery down in Texas.” Her accent is as thick as I’ve ever heard it, and I wonder if she’s laying it on thick on purpose or if it’s just nerves. My money’s on nerves, though I’m not a hundred percent sure why she’s so nervous. Surely this can’t be as difficult as taking over an office full of hostile dudes who don’t understand why some chick got promoted over them to sales manager for the northwest region when they’ve been there holding each other’s dicks for years.

At least that’s my understanding of her office politics based on the things she’s vented about since we started hanging out.

“Oh, that sounds delicious,” Tina gushes, then pulls the bottle of wine out of its bag with a pleased sound. “You’re so thoughtful. What do you see in our Dozer?”

Marissa gives a nervous chuckle, darting a look in my direction. “Oh, well, you know. I can’t help rushing to assist a damsel in distress.”

Tina’s brows pull together in confusion, and even Nick jerks his head my way, eyebrows arched in question.

“Wait,” he says. “Who’s the damsel in distress?”

Scrunching my nose, I scratch the back of my neck. “That’d be me. Marissa helped me out when my battery died before the first preseason game. Remember?” I ask Nick. “I told you about that.”

He purses his lips in thought, then shakes his head. “I believe you, but I don’t remember a thing about that. I feel like I would’ve remembered a princess riding to your rescue.”

Marissa snorts and rolls her eyes. “I thought Dozer’d be the princess in this scenario.”

I pretend to flick hair over my shoulder. “Of course I am. I’m the prettiest princess around.”

“No, I’m the prettiest princess!” Shelby objects. “Aren’t I, Daddy?”

“Of course you are, sweetie,” Nick says, holding an arm out so she can climb on his lap with her brother. He kisses the side of her head. “You’ll always be the prettiest princess to me.”

“Dozer’s not very pretty,” she whispers loudly, and all the adults break out in laughter.

“Ouch, Shelb!” I clutch my chest. “That hurts. Right here.” I point to my heart.

“Sorry, Uncle Dozer,” she says, though she doesn’t sound very sorry. “I’m just telling the truth, though. Marissa’s a lot prettier than you.”

“I can’t argue with you there,” I agree, glancing at Marissa.

She ducks her head and tucks her hair behind her ear again. “Anyway. I helped Dozer out of a jam, he repaid me by getting me tickets to your first game of the season, and we’ve been hanging out a lot since then. I haven’t had a lot of time to make friends since I’ve been here between work and everything.”

“And it’s not exactly easy to make friends here, either,” Tina puts in sympathetically. “I’ve finally managed to find a few mom-friends at the kids’ schools, but it’s taken years. You’ve only been here a couple months. I see why you’d attach yourself to someone who actually invites you out to things.”

Marissa glances at me. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure about him to start.” She cocks her head, her eyes trailing over me. “But we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well.” She turns back to Tina. “It’s good to have a friend.”

Warmth fills me. Something about Marissa calling me a friend hits different than my teammates.

It takes me a second to figure out why. But I think it’s because Marissa genuinely likes me as a person. Sure, she likes that I get her tickets to hockey games, but I’m confident she’d still hang out with me without that.

And I think it’s the first time in my adult life that a woman has liked me for me.