Page 13 of Play Book

“Sure.” I step outside as she punches in a series of numbers and then locks the back door behind her.

“That’s a lot of complicated security,” I say, keeping a hand at the small of her back as we walk through the alley that runs along the side of the building.

“Sadly, it’s necessary. I’m here alone a lot, so I like to feel safe after hours. Not to mention, my art has become pretty valuable since word got out that I essentially sold out on my grand opening, and I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Absolutely.” We get onto the sidewalk that goes along the front of her shop and I pull out my keys, unlocking my Ferrari.

“Your car is amazing,” she says, sliding her arm through my elbow. “Would you let me drive it sometime?”

“Sure.” I nod. “Not on the way to dinner, but how about on the way home?”

“Fun!” Her eyes light up, and I can’t help but smile back.

What is it about her that makes me smile so much?

I’m being a dumbass.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“The new place that opened on Melrose,” I say. “Some fancy new French place. A few guys on the team have been and said it’s wonderful.”

“That sounds nice. I don’t get out much lately. I spend all my time either at the gallery or painting.”

“You paint at home?”

She nods. “I live in one-half of a duplex. I own the whole thing, but I rent the other side. Each place has three bedrooms and two bathrooms, and I use one bedroom as a guest room and one as my studio. It’s small but it does the job.”

“That’s smart,” I acknowledge. “Renting out one side to pay the mortgage.”

“Actually, it’s paid for, but property taxes are high, so it amounts to the same thing. A nice married couple lives next door. They’re quiet. No kids, no pets, and they both work a lot. I take a little off their rent because the husband started mowing the lawn, and it saves us both money.”

“I keep thinking about buying,” I say, “but real estate here is insane. And of course, with everything going on in the back office, I don’t know what’s going to happen with the team.”

“You’ve been doing well,” she says. “I don’t imagine they want to get rid of you. Not now, anyway. Harper’s rebuilding.”

Harper Barrowman is the new owner of the Phantoms, and she did almost a complete overhaul when she took over during the off-season. I’m one of the guys she picked up during that time, and while I’m happy to be here, we’re all a little on edge, wondering if she’s done making changes.

I glance at her. “You and Harper are friendly?”

“We are. I do a lot of charity work and so does she, and we’ve worked on a few benefits together. She’s really great. I’m so proud of what she’s doing with the team.”

“Were you a hockey fan before she took over?”

“Absolutely. Season ticket holder for the last five years.”

“Cool.”

It’s nice to be with a woman who won’t immediately start giggling as she admits she knows nothing about hockey.

My phone begins to ring, and the name flashed on the digital screen on the dashboard.

Carly.

Nope.

Not tonight.

Not any night, for that matter.

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