Page 33 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

I wave off the apology. “Don’t even worry about it. Your kids are adorable.”

Tina smiles, though it’s almost a grimace. “When they want to be, anyway.”

Shelby glares at her mom. “I’m adorable all the time.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you are,” Nick deadpans. “Grab a seat, guys. Troy, there are more hot dogs and the other skewers up on the deck.”

He ushers me to one of the empty seats with a hand on my lower back, then leans close and whispers, “Will you be okay while I get skewers and hot dogs?”

Biting my lip, I nod.

He studies me a second longer, but when I sit down, he accepts that. “Be right back,” he murmurs, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the deck.

I can’t help watching him go, enjoying the easy movement of his body, the way his clothes stretch tight across the length of his back, perfectly molding to his butt as he moves. The man is a work of art, and now I perfectly understand that dorky saying, “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”

When he disappears at the top of the stairs, I return my attention to the people around me and find Nick and Tina exchanging smirks over their children’s heads.

“Whoa!” Nick yells, throwing out a hand, though he’s too far away to reach Shelby’s hot dog.

But it’s enough to alert Tina, and she jumps into action, grabbing the skewer and raising the hot dog once again dipping dangerously close to the cinders and ash at the base of the fire.

“Mom! No!” Shelby yells, and I have to bite back a smile at her antics.

Tina leans close and says in a calm, but firm voice. “Shelby. We have talked about the importance of holding your hot dog up. You have to pay attention to what you’re doing. If you can’t do that, then either we will need to finish roasting your hot dog together, or I’ll do it the rest of the way without your help.”

Shelby has her arms crossed, her lower lip poked out in a pout. “I wanna do it!”

“Yes. I know,” Tina says in that same calm voice. “I understand you want to do it yourself. And I want you to be able to do it too. But if you don’t pay attention, you’re going to ruin the hot dog, and we’ll have to start over with a new one. Which wastes food and also means you’ll have to wait even longer before you can eat. I don’t think you want to do either of those things, do you?”

Tina waits patiently while Shelby stubbornly refuses to answer. Finally, Shelby lowers her arms, sighing dramatically. “Fine.”

“What does ‘fine’ mean?”

“Fine, I’ll pay attention.” She reaches for the skewer, but Tina moves it out of reach.

“This is your last warning,” she says. “If it happens again, I’m taking over.” I’m impressed by Tina’s mom voice. I hear lots of parents interacting with their kids at work, and the level of calm this woman displays in the face of her child’s intransigence is impressive.

Another heavy sigh from Shelby. “Okay, Mom.” This time when she reaches for the skewer, Tina lets her take it, her hands hovering near the child as she positions herself to finish roasting her hot dog.

“Why don’t you flip it over, kiddo,” Nick says lightly. “The side you’re roasting is going to turn to charcoal soon if you’re not careful.” He screws up his face in thought. “Although, that could be a new delicacy, maybe. On second thought, never mind. Make a half charcoal hot dog. It’s got a nice ring to it. We could open our own series of food trucks. Troy needs something to do now that he’s retired,” he adds at the sound of Troy’s footsteps coming down the stairs. “Whaddaya think, Troy? You wanna invest in Shelby’s new food truck venture—Half Charcoal Hot Dogs?” Keeping one hand on his son’s hot dog stick, he holds the other up, coasting it through the air like the name is on a sign or marquee somewhere.

When he first suggested Shelby do anything, I could see her immediate refusal forming on her face, but Nick’s quick turn has her giggling.

“Daddy!” she protests. “Half charcoal hot dogs sound terrible! Why would anyone buy that?”

He looks thoughtful and shrugs one shoulder. “You never know unless you try. You could be a trailblazer with previously-unthought-of food combinations. What do you say, Troy?”

Grinning, Troy hands me a skewer and holds up two packages, one of regular all-beef hot dogs, and one of brats. “I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer,” he says to me. While I select a brat and stab it with my skewer, he glances at Shelby. “Your dad’s right, Short Stuff. Food trucks can be big business. You want an investor?”

“Ew! No! I’m not going to make half charcoal hot dogs!”

Troy nods at her hot dog. “Then you might want to flip that thing over or else you will.”

Finally, Shelby listens to the adults and turns her skewer over so the other side of her hot dog can cook.

Any lingering worries that joining Troy and his friends would be awkward are quickly wiped away. Nick and Tina are welcoming and friendly, their children are funny and chatty, and the evening passes with stories, jokes, beer and wine for the adults, and an abundance of hot dogs and s’mores for everyone.

Nick takes over helping Shelby roast marshmallows over the fire while Tina cleans up Noah, all of them telling me stories about life with a professional hockey team.

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