Page 1 of Austin

1

AUSTIN

“Hey, Coach G,” Aiden, a junior and starting forward on the hockey team here at Kismet Falls High, runs to catch up with me as I walk toward my truck in the school parking lot. “Do you have any pointers for me after today’s practice? Anything I can work on this weekend?”

“You did great on the ice today,” I clap him on the shoulder with a grin. I love how motivated the team is this season, even though our first real game is still weeks away. “Your backhand shot could use a little work, but I have to say I’m really happy with the progress we’re already making as a team.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I think we have a real shot at taking State this year.”

“That’s the kind of attitude I like, Aiden.” We stop next to my truck. “We’re going to work on situational awareness and backing up your teammates regardless of whether we’re on offense or defense, but those are things that will come with practice as a group. Get some practice in this weekend if you can, but don’t wear yourself out. Just show up next week with that can-do attitude and I’ll be a happy coach.”

“Okay, Coach, thanks,” he gives me a wave as he slings his hockey bag over his shoulder. “See you next week.”

I start my truck and pull out of the parking lot, ready to get my weekend started. Not that I have any big plans or anything, but there are a few things I need to take care of around the house and I want to study the playbook the old coach left behind when he retired. Maybe I can add in a few new plays of my own—some of the better ones I remember from my stint in the NHL.

“Which reminds me…” I say out loud to myself as I drive down Main Street. “Gotta stop and get a new notebook before I forget again.”

The old playbook is falling apart and I’ll need a new one if I really am going to work on it this weekend. I feel like I’ve been running around chasing my own ass ever since I moved to Kismet Falls a few weeks ago, and every time I scratch something off my to-do list it seems like I have to add two or three more things to it. Whether it’s a new, unanticipated renovation project at the house I bought—and there have been more of those unexpected projects than I ever could have anticipated—or something I need for the school hockey team, I’ve been busier this month than I’ve ever been before in my life.

Which isn’t a bad thing. Definitely keeps me from being bored, that’s for sure. But I’m really looking forward to the day when I can say I’ve truly settled into my new life here and things are a little less chaotic. Hopefully that day comes sooner rather than later, but it’s not like nobody warned me. My parents both think I’m crazy for moving out to the middle of nowhere and basically starting my life over at thirty-five, and maybe I am a little bit crazy. But there’s nothing left for me in the city. When my knee injury permanently sidelined me from my passion—my up-and-coming hockey career—I realized I had two paths to choose from in life.

I could get some corporate job, maybe even something at the team office, where I would be miserable and surrounded by reminders of my glory days.

Or I could start coaching. I could be a mentor to the next generation and help them achieve their dreams. And when I compare my options like that?

Well, it’s a no-brainer.

I park in front of Bookends, the only bookstore in town, and wave to another one of my students as they drive by. See? This is why I’ve already fallen in love with this little town. I’m not just one of a million nameless, faceless people like I was in the city. I’m the hockey coach. I have an identity. I’m making a difference in these kids’ lives—or at least I will be once the season starts. Regardless, I’m proud of what I’m doing here and I feel like, for the first time since my knee injury, I’m right where I belong.

I’m barely inside the bookstore when I see the most intriguing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. The first thing I notice, obviously, is that she’s beautiful—but not the kind of generic girl next door beauty I would have expected to find in a small-town bookstore. With long, black hair and bangs that are cut straight across her eyebrows, my gorgeous goth girl immediately stands out from the other two women she’s helping.

Mygorgeous goth girl? I almost laugh out loud at myself. I’ve been here for all of five seconds and I’m already picturing myself with her, even though I don’t know anything about the woman. She might be happily married for all I know.

Then again, I can’t see a ring from here.

“I’ll be right with you,” she calls out, making eye contact with me and belatedly reminding me I’ve been standing here staring at her for a solid thirty seconds.

“Awesome, thanks,” I nod, turning to the magazine rack just inside the door and pretending to browse the sports section when all I want to do is to turn back around and introduce myself to the sexy bookstore clerk.

After what feels like an eternity but is probably less than five minutes of actual time, the other two customers leave and I finally let myself take another look at the sexy woman behind the counter.

“Sorry for the wait,” she says, already walking over to me with a curious smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Your name?Your number?Your plans for the weekend?

I nod and swallow back all the questions I’m tempted to ask, instead reminding myself of why I actually stopped here in the first place. “I’m looking for a playbook?”

She gives me a quick up-and-down look that is somehow innocent and sexy all at the same time, then glances over at the magazine rack. “A… playbook? A book about plays? Theater?”

I cock my head to the side, momentarily feeling as confused as she looks, then chuckle. “No, uh, not that kind of play. More like a notebook, I guess. For a—sorry,” I interrupt my bumbling explanation to introduce myself, hoping that will help clear things up. “I’m the new hockey coach at the high school, and I need something to write down the different moves, positions, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, aplaybook,” she nods. “That makes more sense. You look—” She gives me that same up-and-down look. “Athletic.”

I laugh again. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Before she can answer, I follow it up with, “And I was in a couple of school plays back in the day, just for the record, even though I was probably more athletic back then.”

Her pale cheeks instantly flush a delicious shade of pink. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t… well, I didn’t mean to imply anything at all. Just that I have this thing where I try to guess the kind of book each customer might be looking for, and I didn’t necessarily have Shakespeare in mind for you.”

My cheeks are starting to ache from grinning so widely. We’ve only been talking for a couple of minutes and I can already tell I love her personality. Quick and dry and with just enough sarcasm to keep me on my toes.

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