Page 4 of Playoffs & Promises

Me: She's a good kisser.

Hannah: TMI. I do not need to think about you kissing someone named Cinnamon.

Me: Tell Matt I say hi.

Hannah: He says good for you.

Mom: Won't Cinnamon need to spend the holiday with her family? Thanksgiving is a time for family and it feels right that she should celebrate with hers....

She goes on in her not-so-subtle way of saying she doesn't approve of a woman named Cinnamon even if she's never met her. I look down at the floppy-eared beauty currently sniffing intently at a patch of grass. Since Valentine's, every time my mom asked if I was seeing anyone I'd reply with a name from one of the kennels. Her response to the name Coco-Sprinkles was particularly memorable.

"Think it's time to tell her you're not a human?" I ask Cinnamon. "Am I a horrible son to let her think I've been dating all this time when I haven't been?"

Missy: She can't be worse than Carrie.

The mention of my ex is enough to kill any guilt from lying to my family about my dating life. Better that they think I'm dating a woman named Cinnamon than know I haven't dated since Carrie and I broke up. I silence my phone and slip it back into my pocket so I can enjoy the rest of the walk with Cinnamon.

Over a dinner of fresh corn, green beans, and steak with Gabby and Gavin I tell them how Dan and Nate are doing.

"I can't believe it hasn’t even been a year since since Dan's wedding," Gabby says and smiles up at Gavin.

He looks at her and grins at whatever secret they share, and I feel like I'm intruding on their moment.

Clearing my throat I say. "Yeah, crazy how you two got stuck with me because of it."

Gabby laughed hard enough for the curls in her auburn hair to bounce, and we finished eating as they told me of their plans for the farm.

Two

MARIA

Lemons. There are so many lemons. For the last month, twenty pounds of lemons have been left daily on my doorstep. Today is no exception. The four yellow mesh bags of lemons stacked against the white door of my apartment have become a familiar sight. I know exactly who is responsible for them. Even if I only have myself to blame for his inspiration.

"I'll call you back," I tell Charlotte. "I have lemons to deal with."

She laughs. "Lou again?"

"Of course, it's him," I tell her.

She laughs again. "I'll see you soon, I'm leaving now to pick you up for book club."

I hang up and slide my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. Today's been a long enough day without having to deal with this. I should have known though really.

I let out a deep breath of frustration, and after shifting the bag of groceries I'd carried home to my other hip, unlocked my apartment door.

"Problem?" He says from behind me.

I don't even need to turn to look to know who it is, but I do anyway. I grip my bag of groceries tighter, so I'm not tempted to throw one of the apples I'd purchased earlier at him. He stands there in a plain black tee and dark-washed jeans. The shirt is just tight enough to emphasize the muscles on his arms and chest, but loose enough on his stomach I'm not sure how many abs he has. It's for the best really, this way I can pretend he has none. His jeans have to be custom, there's no way his thigh muscles could fit in normal jeans. Playing hockey has made him a formidable wall of muscle on the ice. Not that I watch him specifically when I watch hockey I remind myself. With two of my friends now in relationships with members of the team, I've been able to watch games live with them instead of listening or watching a replay online.

Lou Hoffman.

My next-door neighbor, my nemesis, and the reason Left Wing Lemon Bars sell so well at my bakery. The Glacier Bay hockey fans have been swarming my shop ever since they found out the players on the team will sometimes eat there. The lemons though...I'm running out of things to do with them.

Before the daily lemon drops, I'd use maybe ten or twelve lemons for my daily baked goods. Three batches of lemon bars, and a batch of lemon poppyseed muffins didn't require more than ten pounds. It all depended on the lemons and how much juice they had. While I was glad the expense of the lemons was no longer an issue, I hated to see food go to waste.

But customers only bought so many things with lemon. I'd added lemon tarts, lemon cake, and lemon sandwich cookies to my shelves just to try and use up all of the lemons. None of which counted the lemonade waiting for me in my apartment fridge. Because 'When life gives you lemons' that's what my grandmother always told me to make.

In my spare time I'd started trying to perfect the perfect lemonade recipe. I'd once had lemonade with Hannah at her place, and it had been the best-tasting lemonade I'd ever had. When I'd asked for the recipe, she'd smiled and told me Lou made it and I could ask him for the recipe. Then she'd had the audacity to smile behind her cup because she knew that I'd rather lift my shop ban on him than ask him for that.

---