Page 3 of The Sweetest Chirp

Little does he know, I don’t give a shit about food, only about seeing the girl who, after only a few hours of her being gone, had me realizing that half of my soul was missing.

Telly grumbles. “Fine, but you’re paying, Orlov, since no one here knows who we are.”

I ignore him as I exhale, pulling my cap down lower. They’re used to me hiding my identity since I hate being noticed when we go out. They love it and preen at all the people who want autographs and photos. For me, I just want to play hockey. I don’t want the attention, the sponsorships, and all that hoopla. I want to wake up, hit the ice, score some goals, and bring home the Cup. I have been raised to do just that. Our team, the Carolina IceCats, has been close to that Cup so many years. But even I know this season is different.

I’m not gonna outright say or think it, but things are going well for us.

And I feel a piece of hardware is in our future.

Our new GM has made some big moves and taken the NHL by storm. Not only is she only the second woman to take a position in the higher-ups, but she can make a grown man cry. Olive Vandalia is ruthless and cutthroat. She is a bulldog in a 5’2” package, with whiskey eyes and curves for days. She’s a stunner, for sure, and Telly has such a hard-on for her. She won’t give him the time of day, and really, I don’t blame her. Let’s win the Cup, and then he can dick her down.

If she doesn’t cut his dick off first.

Or trade him for making moves on her.

As I push my dark glasses up my nose, Telly steps up beside me. “We drove six hours for this?”

I didn’t have to give a reason for the road trip at first, but even I know I have to come up with something now. It’s a battle, when all I can think is that she could be anywhere near here. That I’m finally breathing the same air as her once again. Ignoring the tightening in my chest, I clear my throat. “They have Dutch babies here I wanted to try.”

My confession doesn’t come as a surprise to my friends. I am a huge foodie. I love trying all kinds of different dishes, and I’ve been known to make impromptu trips just to try something I’ve read about. I have a list of places I want to eat at when we go on road trips. It used to be fun, but when Audrina vanished, I used it as an excuse to look for her everywhere I went. We share a love of food, she and I, and I had this rosy idea that she’d be in some hole-in-the-wall spot.

Waiting for me.

But she never was, and I have no one to blame but myself.

While I do want to try the Dutch baby, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach it.

Owen shrugs. “I love pancakes, especially when they are thicker.” He waggles his brows. “I’m a lover of all things thicker. Have you seen my wife lately? All swollen with my kid? Jesus Christ on a cracker, it’s hard to keep my hands off her.” Telly chuckles as Owen bites his knuckle.

“Let her find out the plant died because you knocked it over with your bag, and she’ll never touch you again,” I tease, and his eyes go wide.

His brows shoot up and his face blanches. “Bro, what the hell? I thought we were friends.”

I send him a grin as he punches my shoulder before I lock the doors to my black Range Rover and make sure my glasses are covering my eyes.

Telly sends me a curious look. “Bro, no one is going to know it’s you here in the backwoods of Virginia.”

She will, and I need a moment to drink her in before I approach her.

I ignore him as we head inside, and I direct us to a back booth where I can watch the door to see when she comes in. My PI couldn’t get her address, and the only reason he got the photo was because he stopped to eat here. When he tried to question the staff, no one would give him any information. He came here for three days trying to get some intel, but she would show up for her shift and then disappear. She didn’t drive up; she just appeared. Looking around, I assume there is an upper floor to the diner, and I wonder how the PI didn’t notice that.

How much am I paying this dude?

I check my phone again, looking at the address of the diner along with the photo of her.

It has to be her.

This has to be over with.

I’m unable to do this anymore.

A petite waitress comes over, and Telly is all over her. He has her blushing and promising him the best Dutch baby in the state before she basically skips away.

“I love women,” he mutters as he leans back in the booth, his brown eyes full of mischief.

“Wait till you find the one. It’s like Christmas morning every day,” Owen says with a knowing grin.

Happy sap.

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