Page 6 of The Girlfriend Zone

“Good,” I lean in like we’re going for a pre-game briefing on the opposing team, “Give me the details. Does she know who I am?”

“I only said you’re my grandson.” Her brown eyes shift away from mine. “But take some grandmotherly advice. Don’t talk about hockey.”

I frown. “Why would I? The photo shoot isn’t on the ice, is it?”

“Nothing like that.” She puts her hands on her hips as if I’m a kid again. “My point is that women don’t want to hear a man blather on and on about his job. Talk about other things. Hobbies, pets, the city, the last great movie you saw, your favorite song.” Her face brightens with an idea. “You could take her geocaching. You love to do that, and solving all those treasure hunt clues is a fun way to get to know each other.”

None of this is bad advice, but I’m baffled about why she thinks I need it. Does she think I’m that hopeless in the romance department?

“Got it. But, so you know, I wasn’t planning to discuss hockey.”

“Of course you weren’t, dear.” She smiles and pats my arm. “I just have to look out for you, you know.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s all part of your work in The Underground Grandma Matchmaking Society.”

“That’s brilliant! If no such group exists, I’m going to start one.”

“No one would be better.” I steer the convo back to more relevant intel. “So, does she know I’m the guy who ran into her outside the shop the other day? The one with the mannequin and the opinions?” Fuck it, those details don’t matter. I wave them away. “I’ll take care of all that. Where do I need to go? And when is it? Please say ‘today,’ because we’re leaving tomorrow for away games.”

Birdie tuts at my concerns. “Oh, sweetheart. You speak as if I don’t know your schedule by heart. The appointment is in about an hour.” She glances pointedly at the ticking clock then back at me.

Tick-tock, get moving.She doesn’t need to tell me twice.

If I leave for the final pre-season road trip without at least getting something started with Leighton, I know in my gut that I’ll regret it.

“I’m there.” I wheel around to take off, but then spin back. “Where is ‘there,’ exactly? And what kind of photo shoot?” I’m not going to miss this opportunity, but I also don’t want to show up unprepared.

Mischief flicks across Birdie’s eyes. “The kind where all you have to do is take off your pants.”

I freeze, not sure I heard that right. Yes, I’m shocked—shocked at how perfect that sounds. I head to the door, stop, and then remove the feathered boa.

“You don’t like the accessory?” Birdie asks innocently as I return to the counter.

“Love it.” I place it in her hand with a grin. “But I’ll just have to take it off anyway, right?”

“You were always my smart one.”

And a smart guy doesn’t miss chances.

Walking down the Hayes Valley street, I check my reflection in the window of a record shop up the block from Leighton’s studio. Dark button-down, sleeves rolled up. Jeans, motorcycle boots, black glasses. I can’t wear glasses on the ice, but I swapped out my contacts after practice.

I’ve got none of the telltale signs of an athlete. No hoodie, no sneakers—Birdie doesn’t want me to talk hockey? That’s easy enough. I didn’t get two bachelor’s degrees for nothing.

I drag a hand through my messy hair, which has been wild my whole life, and continue down the block. The guy in my reflection looks composed. But inside, I ping with excitement, and the focused awareness I get before I step onto the ice. When my world narrows to the game, nothing but the game, I block out everything else.

Turning at Elodie’s Chocolates, I count the street numbers, and just past Risqué Business, I spot a white door tucked between storefronts. On the list of businesses labeling the buzzer panel, I find Hush Hush Photography.

I press the button.

A few seconds later, a pretty voice asks through the speaker, “Hi! Is that Miles?”

“That’s me.”

I don’t mention I’m the guy about to ask her out on a date.

“I’m on the second floor. Come on up.”

She buzzes me in, and I bound up the narrow stairway. There are a couple of businesses on the second floor, but the red door is unmissable. A vintage sign with lovely feminine lettering readsHush Hush.

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