Page 138 of The Love Penalty

I don't give a shit.

If it weren’t for Dad, I'd never set foot in that town again. I usually fly in for a few days over Thanksgiving and stay in the house as much as possible before shooting back to Nolan.

“So, I think that's all I need from you down here.” Rachel interrupts my thoughts. “I'm gonna quickly put this stuff away, then head into town. Mick and I will have lunch together, and then I'll check out that thrift shop off Main Street.” Rachel gives me an excited grin as she loads up the shelves with her newly acquired containers. Lani helped her label them all last night—white sugar, brown sugar, flour, etc. They used Lani's label maker and got way too much satisfaction out of such a simple task.

With the kitchen being brand-spanking new, Rachel wants to keep it as pristine and as organized as she can for as long as humanly possible. She and Lani seem to get off on tidiness and structure. And Rachel's beyond excited about making her dreams a reality.

She really was born for this role.

She's sweet and friendly with the workers who have been coming and going. She knew exactly what she wanted and fought for it with a smile. It's pretty easy to do anything she asks because she's so damn nice about it. She’s even scored a few smiles from Vanessa, the woman who’s been hired to tick all the boxes and make sure this place complies with every code, policy, and whatever other shit has to be signed off. Mick’s dad hired her, and she’s… well, she’s Vanessa—or “Scary Hag,” as Casey likes to call her.

Work on the place went way faster than we anticipated. I guess having so many volunteers really helped, and the six-month renovation only took four. I know. It's a miracle.

I mean, sure, there are still a few things to do. The place isn't ready to open to the public yet—Vanessa’s a stickler for the rules—but all the main stuff is done. The builders have packed up and gone. And now it’s up to me to finish up all the loose ends.

We're waiting on fittings for the upstairs bathrooms, which I can easily install, and some light shades haven't turned up yet. The third-floor bedrooms need painting and furnishing, and the girls have been on the hunt looking for knickknacks, which Mikayla rolled her eyes at.

“They're dustables. That's all they are! More things to clean!”

“Mick.” Rachel gave her a soft look of reprimand. “They'll make the rooms look pretty. Guests will love it. And besides, if all you're having to do for the privilege of living here is dust a little, I wouldn't complain.”

That shut her up.

Riccardo—Mikayla's step-grandfather, and the owner of this place—wants to go for an old-style modern feel, meaning it looks like you've stepped back into the 1800s but with all the mod-cons you could want.

The old man came to visit last week with Mikayla's father, and they're really impressed. They’ve decided to name this place Ponderosa Countryside Villa thanks to the massive Ponderosa pines that line the back edge of the property. A new sign was installed at the gate just this weekend with a big ‘Opening Soon!’ sticker across the edge.

They’re already talking about soft launches and how to get this place humming. Asher muscled his way into those conversations—I still don't know how—but he's loving it and was beyond stoked when his suggestion to run a few weekend specials for exclusive guests was taken on board.

I think the plan is to open up the café while we finish off the last of the rooms, then try for some exclusive two-night stays in November, then an official Christmas opening to see if we can attract some guests to spend a snowy winter break in this quaint homestead.

Some shit like that, anyway. These guys have got it all figured out. I'm just gonna go with the flow… and in my mind, I’m gonna keep calling it Hockey House, because no matter what kind of fancy-ass name this place gets, it’s still filled with my hockey bros. So, Hockey House 2.0 it is.

I wave to Rachel, leaving her to finish organizing the kitchen.

The house is empty except for the two of us. Everyone else is off at school. Vanessa is in California this week—thank God—so things are quiet and relaxed. Hockey season has already started, so the guys are out the door at stupid o'clock to get their workouts in before classes start.

It's a busy hive of activity in the early mornings and evenings. People are constantly coming and going depending on work schedules, practices, and study groups.

Except for me.

I'm here all the time, because I haven't found it in me to start the dreaded job hunt yet. I scratch my beard, which has grown in over the summer. I couldn’t be bothered shaving and now I think I’ll feel naked without it. It’s gotten a little wild and I’ll need to tidy it up before I start going for job interviews but…

I don't even know what I want to do. I majored in business studies, because I didn't know what the hell else to choose, and it bored me to tears. I went to college for the hockey, but I never wanted to go pro either. I just wanted to have some fun and figure it out as I went along.

The problem is…

I never figured it out.

Working on this old villa over the summer has been pretty fun. Maybe I should be going into construction.

Although, part of the fun was hanging with everyone. Yes, I'm a quiet guy, and everyone thinks I'm a hermit. But that's only because I don't want to talk about shit. If I can just sit there watching everyone, I'm happy. And people have been so busy doing jobs over the summer that I've been able to do just that. Work away in the background, listening to funny conversations and watching my friends laugh and be stupid together.

During the height of our busy season, we ended up all bunking in the pool house. We set up air mattresses on the floor and piled in there together. It was like being at a sleepover in high school. I think. I never got invited to them, so I wouldn't really know, but… I can imagine that they were awesome.

Clomping up the stairs, I head for the third floor, figuring I can get an undercoat down in the north-facing bedroom before I'm due at the local arena.

I've been roped into coaching Mini-Mite hockey this season. They were short a guy, and I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The head of the arena pointed at me, recognized me as a Cougar, and asked how long I'd been playing hockey.

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