Page 6 of Stick Play

When he looks like he’s about to protest, I pull myself up to my full height and fold my arms. “I just want to play hockey, Dad, and make my team proud. I was never going to find a nice girl in the Caribbean.”

Oh, is that because Gina opted to stay home, Ash?

“I am not looking for any sort of a relationship or commitment, short or long term,” I continue, and shake my head. “If Coach hears one more negative word…”

While I’m trying to do what’s best for the team, Dad is astute enough to know that Coach reaming me out is not why I’ve been grumpy for the last six months.

But you know that staying away from Gina really is for the best, dude. You basically told her it was a bad idea before you put your cock inside her.

Yeah, so. Shut the fuck up.

You have a reputation to keep clean. Messing around with a single mom isn’t going to help.

Fuck you.

That summer day, while it was fucking awesome, had to be a one-time thing. It’s not like either of us were looking for a deeper relationship. Lessons learned early on taught me all women leave. Thanks, Mom. Or that women want something from me. Thanks, Liza. But still, staying away from Gina is for the best, and I know it.

After that internal debate, I exhale and do one last pass over the driveway and set my shovel against the side of the house.

“I should get going.”

Dad starts up the three steps leading to his front door. “You’re not coming in for breakfast? I thought you were hungry.”

“I’m just going to grab something on the way home. I have a lot to do today.”

He turns and holds the wooden rail that will need a fresh coat of paint come spring. He smirks and says, “Say hello to her for me.”

Jesus. My body stiffens even though I’m trying for casual. “There is no her,” I grouch, and he just waves his hand and laughs.

“Call me later.”

He steps inside and closes the door and I just shake my head. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. I turn and walk back to my truck, and while everything in me urges me to drive home, I don’t. I head toward the Nook, Gina’s café. It’s not that I want to see her. I’m just worried about her getting her walkway cleared. She’s home with her daughter, and is also babysitting Brighton and Noah’s kids, Camryn and Tate. Three kids and running a café. There’s no way she can get out to clear her walkway. I’d do it for any of the guys, their wives or girlfriends, if they needed the help. This has nothing to do with me wanting her.

Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, dude.

I drive slowly through the streets and find parking close to the Nook. It’s Monday morning, and I’m sure Gina, being run off her feet with the work week crowd, could use a hand.

With hurried steps, I make my way to the Nook, and find the snow in Gina’s walkway trampled down with footprints. It’s a good thing I came. This could easily turn into ice and someone could get hurt.

I open the door and the warmth of the place, along with the fresh scent of coffee, curls around me. Gina’s head lifts as the bell overhead jingles, and honest to God, for the first time in a long time, she seems relieved to see me. Okay, I’m going to be honest with you here. It’s not the first time I’ve been lurking around her place, offering to help her out with this or that. She never lets me, and yet here I am again skulking around like a ridiculous hormonal teen with a crush.

“Ash.” The panic in her tone grips my gut and squeezes tight.

“Gina,” I say and tug off my gloves and hat. “Everything okay?”

A fork drops near me, and she winces as she looks around my body. “Just a second.” She hurries to the kitchen to get the customer a new fork, and after handing it over, comes back to me. “I’m short-staffed. Sherry has been out sick for days. Carla called in this morning. She’s not feeling well either, and my backup Andre couldn’t make it in with the road closures, and Margo my sitter was late getting here from next door because she was snowed in, and waiting for someone to clear her steps, and I was late opening, and there was a crowd waiting outside.”

As the list goes on, I ask, “What can I do?” Somewhat breathlessly, she blinks up at me and I unzip my coat as the warmth of the place heats me up. At least I think it’s the warmth of the place. I guess it could be her close proximity that’s messing with my body temperature. “Wait tables, cook, or clear the walkway first?”

Her hand lands on my arm, and I swear to God, it’s like a bolt of electricity right to my balls.

“Ash, no, it’s okay.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t have anything to do today, and I wanted to check on your walkway anyway.”

Warmth and appreciation move into her face. “That’s really nice of you. But cooking? Waiting tables?”

“I’m a man of many talents, remember?”

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