Page 8 of Grace on the Rocks

Chapter 4

“The protestors came back,” Emma stated. Her voice was flat but it was clear that she was surprised.

Her father smirked as he followed his daughter through one of the many entrances to Sea Side Ice Palace. After their tickets were scanned and approved, they headed down the stairs, to their usual seats.

“Yeah, but Brandon Thorpe playing has helped business rather than hurt it,” he pointed once they both sat down. “Look how crowded this place is, and the actual season hasn’t even started yet.”

Emma nodded but she didn’t say anything. It still bothered her that these people could actually protest Brandon Thorpe playing for the Gulls, especially since Seraphina Hanson showed her belief in the goalie by playing him the third period and even more so because he wasn’t even the main suspect. It was Alan Brown, the uncle. Emma almost felt like these people would protest anything, and instead of getting their point across, they annoyed the crap out of people with the incessant screaming.

“So how was school?” Jeremy asked, nudging Emma’s shoulder with his. “Any spontaneous dance- offs?”

Emma had heard this question on a pretty consistent basis, but it made her laugh every time. “Come on, Dad,” she said, shaking her head. “I know we’re supposed to be green and everything, but could you not recycle your material? But no, no spontaneous dance-offs. Not today, anyway. If something comes up, I’ll keep you posted.”

“That would be appreciated,” he teased.

“But seriously,” Emma continued. “It went fine. Nothing new. I met my team – you know, the small group of people I’m going to teach my piece to for the recital – and they seemed nice. The majority of them were freshmen so I don’t know how that’s going to go. Hopefully they’ll take it seriously. It’s a pretty difficult piece, but if they practice, it’ll be amazing.”

“I expect nothing less from you, hon.” He tilted his head to the side, looking at his daughter from the corner of his eyes.

“How’s work? Any new cases? Any new ladies?” Emma wiggled her eyebrows as suggestive as she possibly could, but the grip on her straight face wasn’t anywhere near complete.

“Yeah, okay,” Jeremy said, rolling his eyes. “I’m still working on the Burke case. I really don’t want to have to go to trial because, honestly, it’s just a waste of time, but these two people have the mindset of kindergarteners and are incapable of compromising.” He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and his thumb. “I don’t like thinking about it, much less discussing it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Emma said. “Maybe if you actually used the box seats your firm has, you could take both of them to the Gulls game and they’d be so caught up in it, they would realize that maybe compromise is the best way to go. Huh?” She elbowed her father, her eyes teasing. “What about that?”

“Let’s not talk about work anymore. What about you? Any new boys you want to tell me about?” This time it was Jeremy who wiggled his eyebrows.

Emma felt herself straighten at the question. The real answer, of course, was no, there weren’t any new boys. But her father had asked the question, it was almost as if he knew that she was interested in the possibility of –

No. She wouldn’t even think about it. Even in her thoughts, the idea that she and Kyle Underwood could date sounded ridiculous. Sure, she didn’t have that much of a problem admitting that she was attracted to him. And judging from the couple of signs she saw in the stadium, she wasn’t alone on that point. But actually liking another guy required too much effort on her part. Maybe the correct word was curious. Or interested. Or intrigued. Just because she wanted to know more about the hockey player didn’t mean that she liked him.

“Please,” she said, forcing her to snort at such a preposterous question. “Listen, if I’m interested in a guy, you’ll know. Maybe. Possibly. If I decide to date a guy, you’ll know. But guys are the furthest thing in my mind right now.”

“Honey, you’re a young woman,” her father said. “As much as I want to believe that guys are nowhere near your thoughts, I know better.” He shrugged. “It was just a question. I thought it might have to do with your sudden interest in hockey.”

“Dad, I’ve come to practically every game with you since you got season tickets,” Emma pointed out.

“Yeah, but in that time, you’ve never asked me a single thing about how the sport works,” he replied. “You know you don’t have to get interested in hockey just because a guy is, right? You’re perfect, just the way you are.”

Her face flushed at her father’s comments. “Can you not? Listen, I know what you’re saying and I appreciate it even though it’s a little bit uncomfortable. But I promise I’m not getting into hockey just for a guy, okay Dad? Now can we drop it?”

He didn’t believe her entirely, she could tell that much by the way he was looking at her. But he nodded his head and looked straight ahead, at the ice. The refs had just emerged, and, as was traditional, people began to boo them.

“God, who would ever want to be a referee?” Jeremy murmured.

“Maybe they enjoy the game?” It was all Emma could suggest due to the fact that her eyes were glued to straight ahead of her, waiting for Kyle Underwood – and the rest of the Gulls – to come out from their team’s designated side and skate on the ice before the singing of the national anthem. As the announcer called the Gulls out, the majority of the fans cheered, but once Brandon Thorpe took to the ice, the boos got more prominent.

Emma didn’t care. Her eyes focused solely on Kyle Underwood. She watched as he skated the traditional circle on the Gulls’ side of the ice before reaching the center line. He was more than just good looking, she realized at that moment, watching him pay homage to a song he probably was indifferent to due to the fact that he was Canadian. He was... What was the word that described attractiveness but also showed that it was a special kind of attractiveness that Emma believed only she saw in him?

Which was absolutely ludicrous.

Jesus Christ, Em, get a grip on yourself. You’re twenty-two years old, not fifteen.

She shook her head, shook her thoughts of Kyle Underwood, and instead, went over the counts of her dance routine in her head so she could regain some focus. She only stopped once the game started, and then her eyes naturally found Kyle once again.

As per usual, the start in this game wasn’t exactly exciting, save for the fact that center Matt Peters won the drop and passed it to Kyle. She had no idea what he felt when he skated on the ice, when he played a sport he obviously loved, but it seemed as though he didn’t even recognize that people were watching him. Nothing else mattered except the game. It reminded Emma of how she felt when she danced, and she couldn’t help but allow herself to be interested in him a little more than she already was.

A shot on the Seagulls’ goal snapped Emma out of her thoughts on Kyle Underwood as her heart jumped at the thought that the San Francisco Prisoners would score first, but Brandon Thorpe reached out and caught the puck, making it seem as easy as breathing. What a save. And yet people were still booing him.

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