Page 27 of King

“So, what’s good here?” she asks, looking even more beautiful in a pair of blue-framed glasses she pulled from her purse. She’s got this whole sexy, smart vibe going that is way too appealing and makes me eager to get to know more about her.

But first things first… food. I point on the menu to an eggs Benedict special that’s one of my favorite meals ever. Willa readsit out loud. “Sourdough bread, goat cheese, spinach, Vidalia-peach hot sauce, grilled marinated flank steak with poached eggs and hollandaise.” Her eyes rise to mine, appreciation reflected in her stormy blue depths. “You’re quite the foodie.”

“If by foodie, you mean I like all food, yeah… there’s that.”

Willa’s eyes crinkle as she laughs and my head tilts, captivated by the sound. It’s a musical cascade, like she’s got a secret stash of happiness inside, and she shares it with the world every time she laughs. “It’s a good thing I like food too. I think I’m going to get that.” The glasses come off and are tucked back into her purse.

A waitress brings us water and we order our meal, spending the moments in between talking about the Ice Pups’ schedule. They only practice once a week, every Monday at six p.m., and one game a week, every Saturday at eight a.m. We pull out our phones, mostly looking over my hockey schedule but also a few conflicts that Willa might have with her work schedule.

We both make notations on which ones I can and can’t make. “For the ones I can’t be at, I’ll give you a list of things to do at practice. Then at the very next game, it’s those skills we’ll want the kids to concentrate on.”

“You’re really a godsend,” Willa says before taking a sip of her water. She had wrinkled her nose at the paper straw offered, explaining she can’t stand the way they feel against her mouth and that made me concentrate way too hard on said mouth.

Her lips look as soft as petals and her smile has an undeniable allure. The curve of her mouth hints at secrets and wonders hidden within and I can’t help but imagine how her lips would feel against mine. It’s impossible not to be captivated by that lush mouth, so much so that I have to force myself to focus on the conversation.

But Jesus… even trying to meet her gaze as she talks is an effort in futility. I had thought her eyes were pure gray but asI study them, they’re actually a matte iron blue. They’re like the color of the sky on a rainy day just before the sun breaks through, and set against her pale skin, brown hair and golden streaks, they’re shockingly brilliant. The rest of her face is perfect, but my favorite part by far is the smattering of freckles across her nose, cheeks and forehead.

And it suddenly hits me…

“I’m assuming one of your parents has brown hair like yours, and red like Brittany’s?” Because the sisters look nothing alike.

Willa laughs, shaking her head in bemusement. “You’re not the first to notice Brittany and I don’t look like one another. Our parents are both blond with brown eyes. I’m actually adopted and well, Brittany… she picked up a recessive gene somewhere. She came along two years after me with red hair and was quite the surprise to my parents who couldn’t get pregnant before her.”

“I bet that’s been the source of a lot of jokes in your family.” I chuckle. Willa’s smile slips, then fades completely, and I know I’ve put my foot in my mouth for a reason I can’t fathom. “I’m sorry… did I say something wrong?”

She reaches across the table, her hand patting mine reassuringly. Her smile returns, once again given from the heart, but I can see naked honesty shining in her eyes. “You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just… the way Brittany looks was a very sore subject with our father. He was an alcoholic and verbally abusive to our mother, and sometimes to us kids. One of his favorite things to rant about was Brittany’s curly red hair. When he’d go on a bender, he’d accuse my mom of sleeping with someone else and that’s why she got pregnant with Brittany and why she looks so different from them.”

“Fuck,” I mutter low. “I mean… what do you say to that?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Brittany and I didn’t say anything. We knew not to get involved. But Mom would let him have it. It wasn’t a peaceful household.”

“I’m really sorry,” I say solemnly.

Willa laughs and it’s not the musical symphony that had me spellbound moments ago. It’s dry and flat. “You know, I always wondered if my dad was right. Did Mom have an affair and that’s where Brittany came from? I mean, I’d never tell Brittany those suspicions or even my mother because it doesn’t change that she’s my sister, but… I always wondered.” Her voice trails off as she runs her fingertip over the condensation on her glass. She seems to startle, eyes darting up and locking with mine. “Oh God… I’m so sorry to dump that on you. That sounds totally morose and truly, it is not something that weighs down on me, Brittany or my mom these days. I’ve never even told anyone that before and I’m not sure why I told you now. It was way more info than you asked for and I usually don’t share private stuff—”

Now I’m the one who pats her hand, a few quick taps to stop her word vomit. “Maybe you needed to say that suspicion out loud,” I suggest.

“Maybe. I guess I can empathize with my mother if she did turn to another man. I know that sounds like I’m validating infidelity, which is horrible, and I’m most definitely not.” Willa’s eyes go even bigger, and she shakes her head. “I’m absolutely not validating it. I mean, my ex-husband cheated on me—the whole nine yards with a mistress he put up in a fancy apartment and everything—and there’s never an excuse. If you’re unhappy in a marriage, you leave. You don’t cheat. And my mom eventually did leave and got remarried. Oh God…”

She covers her face with her hands and actually snort-laughs before peeking up over her fingertips at me. “I just let my mouth get all carried away. I am not the type to lay all that crap out on a stranger. I’m so sorry.”

I chuckle, tugging her hands down. “I was totally following your train of thought and agree with you on all of it. I’m guessing you find me a trustworthy dude to share that. Do you mind me asking… do you have a relationship with your dad?”

Willa nods, her lips tilting up slightly. “A tenuous one. He’s been sober now for four years. He’s tried to make amends, but he said a lot of horrible things when we were growing up that are hard to forget.”

“And your mom?”

“Not willing to forget or forgive. She and her new husband moved to Hawaii, about as far as you can get from a small town in upstate New York where I grew up and where Dad still lives.”

I consider pushing for more, because she opened the door. I tend to lean toward chivalrous behavior, but I’m so intrigued by this woman, I don’t think I can leave it alone. “So… you have a cheating asshole ex-husband.”

Willa smirks, circling a manicured finger around the top of her water glass. “Scott. Divorced a year. Still an asshole.”

“Let me guess what he does for a living,” I say, taking a shot in the dark but knowing it’s got a good chance at landing. “I expect he’s a doctor too. But one with a huge ego, so I’m guessing a surgeon of some sort.”

Willa laughs and claps her hands. “Very good. Orthopedic surgeon to be exact.”

“Did you two meet in medical school?”

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