Page 9 of The Roommate Remodel

“Four?” Vale asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Two other newbies on the team. Call it forced bonding.” I scan the windows for signs of life. The house looks well taken care of, but it’s obviously not new. The wooden siding has been painted over several times, and the overgrown landscaping needs a good trim.

“Did you hear Scarlett call it ‘Granny’s old place’? I’m betting it’s two spinsters,” Vale remarks, scanning the place. “Maybe they’ll be good cooks.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not a bed-and-breakfast.”

“There’s got to be some sort of perk to living with the elderly. I don’t know how I’ll stand it if they’re cooking and I’m noteating it.” It’s no secret that my brother likes food. With the energy he exerts on the ice, he can put down an entire turkey by himself. It’s one of the things the MacPherson boys are known for:nonstop food consumption.

A shiny black sedan pulls up behind us, and a man with dirty-blond hair and a chiseled jaw steps out. If I didn’t know Lucian Lowe already, I’d guess he was a fashion model. He’s got the perfect face for it and a ripped body to match. “I take it you’re the MacPherson twins?”

“How’d you guess?” Vale offers an identical smirk to mine.

“Are you Big Mac?” Lucian asks Vale, looking between us to see who claims the nickname. We’re the same height and build, which means neither of us is bigger. But hockey names stick like gum on the bottom of a school desk. Once you get one, it’s there forever.

“Nope, I’m Vale.” They shake hands before my brother turns to me. “This is Big Mac.”

“I prefer Brax MacPherson,” I finish, shaking his hand.

He glances at Vale’s long hair before looking back at me. “Never wear your hair the same or we won’t keep you straight on the ice.”

Vale drags his hands thorough his long brown hair, which has a tendency to fall over one eye. I keep mine short. “You’ll notice our differences on and off the ice.”

“Ready to see your new place?” Lucian asks, rubbing his hands together. “The ladies who own this place seem excited to meet you.”

“Any chance they’re over eighty?” Vale asks.

I jab my brother in the ribs.

Lucian frowns. “No, why?”

“No reason,” he covers, giving me a quick side-eye.

We grab our bags and head up the steps to the oak front door. Even though the house shows signs of age, the craftsmanship is impeccable, with leaded glass windows and incredible woodworking details.

I’m so focused on the door, I hardly notice when it swings open and a woman pokes her head out.

“You’re early!” she says with a nervous smile. Her dark straight hair is swept up into a high ponytail, and she’s wearing a soft yellow silk headband. Her blue rubber cleaning gloves are a telltale sign she wasn’t expecting us yet.

Lucian checks his watch. “The guys arrived in town an hour early.” Lucian turns to me. “I hope you’re just as quick on the ice.”

“Guess we’ll see,” I say.

The young woman waves us inside, then realizes she’s still wearing her gloves and hides them behind her back. “I’m Sloan.” She peels off one glove to shake our hands and gives us a warm smile.

“I’m Brax, and this is Vale.” She stares at me, like she’s trying to place me.

“You ever watch hockey?” I ask. If she’s an AHL hockey fan, then she’s probably seen my name on the roster of my previous team, the Springfield Thunderbirds.

She points to a water bottle that’s covered in the logo of my new team. “You can’t live in South Carolina without being a Crushers fan.” At least she didn’t cross out the team name and replace it with LOSERS. This gives me a fleeting hope that there are at least dozens more fans like her. “My sister will be down in a minute.” She glances at the curved staircase with the gorgeous newel post. “Make yourselves at home.”

She leads us to the living room, where an antique damask couch sits in the center with two wingback chairs flanking the couch. A classic brick fireplace with a dark walnut mantel dominates the room like a relic from a bygone era, while a side buffet shows off an antique tea cup collection displayed on a lace doily. The place looks like it stepped out of aSouthern Living Magazinefrom thirty years ago, even though Sloan appears around the same age as me. It’s warm and inviting, even if it’s old-fashioned.

As Sloan hurries off, Lucian checks hisphone. “Will you excuse me for a second? I need to return a call to Alexandra.” Lucian heads to the front porch, leaving Vale and me alone.

Vale leans toward me. “Do you think that’s the same Alex who’s queen bee of the team?”

“Does it matter?” I ask, lifting a shoulder. Alexandra is the team owner, but I never let the boss intimidate me. It’s too easy to play to impress them rather than play the way the team needs. I’ve learned there’s a difference.

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