Page 6 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

“Dr. Finley Asher!”

When I turn, Grey Aldine is standing there with his wife. They’re both waving excitedly, and he’s holding a piece of cardboard that has my name scribbled on it in what looks like several different marker colors.

“Hmm,” I say when I near them, eyes skipping from the sign to the coach, who looks quite proud of himself. “I have to say, this is not what I was expecting.”

“Okay,” Aldine says, handing the sign to his wife. “First, it’s good to see you again! Second, I have bad news about the Hilton.”

I bite my lip, disappointment already rolling through me. Quickly, I glance over my shoulder, wondering if we might be able to just slide right back onto the plane that brought us here. That may sound dramatic, but I meant what I said—I’ve accomplished the impossible. Built this career from scratch. Amassed respect from men in sports.

I willnotbe sleeping in a log cabin tonight.

“Is the bad news that they had to upgrade me to a suite?” I ask, tightening my hand on my suitcase and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Theamazingnews,” Ellie says, stepping forward and smiling at me. “Is that the Hilton may be fully booked, but we have somewhere even better for you to stay!”

“Somewhere better?” I ask, blinking. “I amnota fan of Marriott, Aldine. You know that—”

“It’s not Marriott,” he says, clearing his throat. “It’s Aldine.”

Penny pulls up with my suitcases right as he’s saying this, and her face twists.

“You said you would book the Hilton,” she says, glancing at me, a mild wave of panic flitting over her face. It’s usually herresponsibility to book hotels, but Grey promised to handle it this time, claiming he could get a special rate.

“Yeah, about that,” Grey starts, sounding chagrined. Ellie is giving him a specific look, one that readsThis is what you get. “I waited a little too long to book those, and it looks like the hotel is booked up for some sort of convention this weekend.But—”

I’m already shaking my head. Not angry, but also not relenting. I made my stipulations clear.

“—it’s not what you think. You can come and stay in our guest house.”

“It’s more like its own house, really,” Ellie clarifies, clearing her throat. “We built it for when people come to visit, and we haven’t had anyone to use it on yet.”

“Why don’t you just come and take a look at it?” Grey urges, a knowing glint in his eye. “Then you can decide whether or not you want to stay with us until the Hilton opens up.”

My fingers tighten on the strap of my handbag. There’s a reason I always book the same kind of hotel. When I’m away from home, I like the familiarity. The constant consistency. I don’t like the idea of staying in a new place.

Then, I see a flash of my new client—Sammy Braun—in one of his highlight reels. The look on his face when a puck slid just past him. The pure determination, mixed with the slightest hint of shame.

“Fine,” I say finally, which makes Ellie clap and Penny give me a surprised look. She’s witnessed me walk out on more than one deal in the past—I don’t like to let people waste my time. This tolerance of disruption must be coming off as incredibly strange to her.

“Come on,” Ellie says, reaching forward and taking one of the suitcases from Penny, who’s too shocked to fight back. “You guys are going to love it.”

“If it’s a log cabin,” I tell Penny from the side of my mouth when Ellie and Grey are far enough ahead not to hear me, “just book a flight home.”

“Got it,” she whispers back, looking relieved.

***

When I wake up the next morning, it’s to the sound of soft chirping and water lapping against rocks.

Slowly, I sit up and let the silk sheets fall away from my body. When I push my eye mask up onto my head, I realize for the first time that I’m not at home, and remember the flight to Burlington and the surprise of staying in the Aldines’ guest house.

Which, to Ellie’s credit, Idolove. During our drive up to his place, Grey explained that he and Ellie had just had their home constructed. I’d only half-listened—it was the kind ofconstruction details that only men and contractors think are interesting.

And then, when we pulled around the bend and saw the mansion’s facade, I’d nearly laughed out loud.

A log cabin.

Or, rather, it was log-cabin-themed, with a large stone face, wooden columns, and a pond right at the front of the property. I could already picture the scratchy red wool blankets on the beds and the not-quite-hot water we’d pretend to enjoy in the bathrooms. Only after we walked into the guest house did I tell Penny to cancel our flights home.

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