Page 6 of Wake Me Up (New England Bay Sharks #5)

I glance up at the huge-ass clock to see the time. The skills clinic is nearly over, and I’ll even say it … it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it was going to be. I’m also really impressed with some of the kids, but one in particular who I learned is only ten.

And for ten, he’s damn fucking good on the ice. He needs some corrections here and there, but as soon as I give them, he picks up on it so fast. And best of all, he’s respectful.

Truthfully, if all kids are this coachable, I may consider taking on a coaching gig once my time in the NHL comes to an end. Well, I don’t know if I’d go that extreme, but … maybe.

“Look at you, enjoying yourself,” Ryder utters to me. “Shit, I think I even saw you smile a few times. You must like kids more than you think you do.”

“Do not,” I say back. “Let’s just get through these last ten minutes, asshole.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he says, saluting me and skating back toward his group.

Now that the clinic is over, most of the kids have left after getting their participation T-shirt from us, but a few stragglers are still around.

One of them, Cash, and his mother are still here.

It’s not because they are slow in leaving, but because I did something I never do, and I went over to talk to her after the clinic was done.

“He’s real good,” I tell her, trying not to stare too hard, but, damn, she’s so pretty. Naturally too.

I don’t think she has an ounce of makeup on, and her dirty-blonde hair is just piled in a messy bun, like she ran out of the house in a hurry, and yet she’s stunning.

She doesn’t look old enough to have a ten-year-old, and I can’t help but wonder if she had Cash really young or if she just looks good for whatever age she is.

She smiles at him proudly, ruffling his hair. “Thank you. He really, really loves to play.”

“I can tell,” I say honestly.

It was easy to tell which kids genuinely wanted to be here today at this clinic and which ones were probably here because their parents had forced them to be.

This kid, he soaked in every second of it.

He asked questions. He took criticism and corrected what we told him to. He did it all with a good attitude too.

And something else I noticed and appreciated? He hustled.

After a few seconds of silence, she gives me a small, shy smile. Her eyes look my way, but they don’t fully connect with mine.

“Well, thank you again.” She turns toward Cash. “Ready, bud?”

He nods politely, gathering the rest of his things and slinging his duffel over his shoulder. “Yep, ready.” He glances my way, his eyes meeting mine. “Thank you so much, Coach Talmage.”

Coach Talmage. No one has ever called me that. But today, we split the kids up into groups, and I did coach Cash’s team. So, I mean, I suppose I was his coach. But only for, like, half an hour.

“Hope to see you again, kid,” I say, stepping completely out of my comfort zone. “Stick with it, all right? You’re a damn good player.”

His entire face lights up like I just made his whole day. I know I did because I was his age once too. If an NHL player had said those words to me back then, I probably would have embarrassed myself from being so damn excited.

As they turn and walk away from me, my eyes find their way back to his mother. I don’t know her name or anything about her. But I do know this much: she’s a married woman. I know because I saw the ring on her finger. I can’t let my eyes roam to her ass because she’s taken.

Well, I can’t look for too long anyway.

“Mom! Mom … did you hear him? Tripp Talmage said I’m a damn good player.” Cash continues talking, just like he has the entire ride home.

I let it slide that he swore because he’s so excited right now, and I don’t want to take this moment from him.

“He said he hopes to see me again. What if, like … he wants me to be a Shark with him? Not now, but down the road?”

I fight my grin, not wanting him to think I’m not taking him seriously, but it’s just so nice to see him so happy about something. “Well, I think by then, he’d be the grandpa of NHL players, babe. So, maybe he meant before then?”

His eyes widen, and his mouth hangs open. “He totally wants to work with me again, doesn’t he? He thought I was that good. Wow, Mom. Wow.”

“Maybe,” I say, shrugging. “We’ll have to try to get you into another one of those clinics then, right?”

“Uh … yes!” He nods his head quickly. “Can I have your phone to call Papa? I have to tell him all about it.”

Laughing, I pass him my phone so he can call my dad and then listen to him tell him literally every single detail of the day, feeling warmth spread across my chest as he does.

I’ll admit, talking to a professional hockey player made me nervous.

And even though I know Tripp probably didn’t mean to, his eyes were burning right into mine, so I made sure to never look directly into them.

I don’t think I’ve looked into a man’s eyes in five years, and starting with the NHL player who coached my son that morning didn’t seem like the way to dip my toes in that water.

And I’m sure a guy like that is used to women throwing themselves at him. He was probably toying with me by staring at me like that.

Besides, I was wearing jogger pants and an oversize T-shirt because I had been at the bakery, trying to finish up some orders for the week. I dare to say he probably wasn’t looking at me the way it felt like he was.

Either way, it wasn’t all bad, taking in all the man meat around me today.

I haven’t even considered dating and likely never will.

But when the universe gives you a six-foot-seven goalie with ocean-blue eyes and a gorgeous face to admire for a few measly minutes … you’re allowed to take the opportunity.

Widow or not.