Page 3 of You, Again
“Vermont,” I replied, kicking the sheet off and reaching for my cell on the nightstand.
“Ah, a family visit.” She pivoted to face me as she fastened her bra, sending her reddish locks cascading over her shoulder. “I thought your dad was in London for the summer.”
“Yeah, but I have friends I haven’t seen in ages and it feels right.” I let my gaze roam over her hips appreciatively and commenced mindless scrolling.
“Oh. How long will you be away?”
“Don’t know. Why?” I asked without glancing up.
“I have an event in Miami at the end of August. We’re launching a new lip-gloss line. Can you be there?”
“Hey, uh…” I dropped my phone in my lap and squinted at her. “Look, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but…we should move on, you know. I’m done playing hockey and—”
“So? You’re still a legend, and you’re hot.”
I pointed at my chest in faux disbelief, then shrugged and nodded. “I know.”
Sienna chuckled. “Of course you do. Just…stay fit and don’t get weird in Vermont. Seriously. If you show up at my event talking about fishing and hunting, I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”
“Ouch. Did I agree to Miami?”
“No, but you’re a sweetheart and you don’t mind doing a favor for a friend. And we are friends, right?”
“Sure,” I agreed, scrolling away while she redressed.
She moved into the bathroom and returned a moment later, slipping a high heel onto her right foot. “You know, you could always…unretire.”
“I’m not un-retiring,” I scoffed.
“Well, youcould…that’s all I’m saying. You’re in good shape, and the fans love you. What if you played for LA or New York for a year?”
I furrowed my brow. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Stay here. Seattle loves you.”
“I love Seattle too, but it’s time to move on. I just put this house on the market and—”
“No way,” she gasped. “Why? Tell me you’re joking. This house is gorgeous.”
It was phenomenal, actually. My home was a custom-built modern masterpiece on Puget Sound with amazing views, but it was kind of cold and small. More of a tricked-out large condo than a cozy house.
“Yeah, but like I said, I’m outta here,” I replied, casting a brief glance her way. How long did it take to put on a pair of shoes, for fuck’s sake?
“Right. To Vermont. Sounds enchanting,” she snarked, her lips twisting like a kid who’d accidentally sucked a lemon wedge.
I could defend Elmwood’s honor, but what would I say? I grew up in a town the size of a postage stamp. It was so small that we had one market, one gas station, and shared a high school, a hospital, and a post office with the neighboring town of Pinecrest. It was quaint and picturesque but probably wouldn’t appeal to anyone looking for sophisticated entertainment. Or a Starbucks.
“It’s nice enough. And it’s super chill and laid-back.”
“Hmm. What do you do for fun in Elmwood?”
“We used to drink beers around bonfires while our parents played bingo at the church, so…bonfires, beers, and bingo.”
There was that lemon face again. “Fun.”
“It’s a little sleepy,” I admitted with a laugh.
“You won’t last a month,” she predicted, sauntering to my bedside. She cupped my balls through the sheet as she bent to kiss me. “Call me when you return to civilization, Vinnie. And don’t forget…Miami in August.”