Page 25 of Goalie Interference

I liked living over Sophie’s workshop. But damn, I hoped I was right, that Otts did know. Because otherwise I could be torpedoing my career.

Chapter 12

Just so…Ollie

Sophie

By the time I got out to my workshop in the morning, Remy’s truck was gone. There was no sound from his dog, so I assumed they’d gone to doggy day care without any problems. Just as well, since Goober had slipped out the door this morning. I swore the cat was part ninja, the way she escaped.

Diane had insisted I take her partly finished guitar with me when I’d visited her, and I’d had an idea about what to do with it last night as I was driving home from our monthly luthier get-together. I’d stopped at the carriage house to check it out, which was how I’d discovered that Beast was barking. I’d messaged Cash’s assistant and got Remy’s phone number. I wished I’d found out what Goober was doing before I’d bothered him, but I’d had no idea the cat was the instigator.

Last night that had distracted me, but now I could get to work. I pulled out my notepad and sketched a couple of ideas, eyes moving from the guitar to the paper in front of me. My first idea was simple, with the inlay on the headstock, but thatseemed insufficient. I tried a couple more, expanding the design to include the neck, winding among the frets.

I liked the last one best. It wasn’t quite right, but I thought it might lead to something. Something good. I wanted to add a variation on the usual star themes to make the guitar stand out, as much for the craftsmanship Diane was putting into it as for the inlay work.

Then I pushed the notepad aside while I let the idea rest and got back to work on the repair I had in front of me. There was a crack in the top of an old Harmony Patrician guitar. The original owner had passed, and his daughter had found it in his garage. She wanted it restored, as long as it wasn’t going to cost a fortune.

She’d brought it into a music store, one I had a relationship with, and they’d called me since they didn’t do repairs, only setups. The instrument had suffered from neglect, but not too badly. The crack was the biggest issue. It was a lovely old instrument, and I was looking forward to bringing it back to its former glory.

I’d removed the strings and the bridge already. The crack was in the lower bout, and I’d need cleats to keep it in position while the glue set. I ran my fingers over the wood, smooth from years of handling. I slid my hand into the sound hole to feel out the extent of the crack.

I lost track of time as I carefully glued and clamped the instrument, grateful for my narrow hands. It wasn’t till someone rapped on the door that I realized it was lunchtime.

“Soph?”

The voice was familiar. I straightened up and turned to greet my ex. “Ollie. Hi.”

He grinned at me and I couldn’t resist grinning back. He was just so…Ollie. He’d been the all-American boy growing up: blond hair, blue eyes, dimples when he smiled.

I sometimes wondered if he’d chosen to be a goalie partly so he always had a full mask on his face to protect his nose and teeth. Because those all-American looks had led to endorsements. Ollie was smart, and he’d had his father’s experience in professional sports to help him. He’d had a plan for his career from the time he was in high school and being watched by scouts.

With what he’d earned while playing, and the endorsements, he’d been financially set without relying on his dad after he was injured and had to retire. That was when he moved on to his plan for his personal life, the part that included family and coaching. When that didn’t work out as he’d liked, he revised again. Without me. I hadn’t been as upset as I expected, which proved his point. The lack of passion had made remaining friends possible.

I mentally shook myself. That was the past. I didn’t need to dwell on it.

“I figured you’d have forgotten lunch. I brought Millie’s.”

On cue, my stomach rumbled. He knew I loved BBQ. I checked the time, and he was right—I’d totally forgotten eating. I set the guitar safely in the middle of the bench and stretched. It felt good to loosen up the muscles. “Thanks. Come on in. I’ve got some water in the fridge.”

Ollie perched on a chair at the second workbench and dropped the bag of food on it. I brought over water bottles and sat beside him, letting my body relax after hours of tension.

“What are you working on?” he asked as he pulled out some takeout boxes.

“A Harmony. Belonged to the client’s dad, and she found it after he died.”

Oliver frowned at it. “Is it worth it?”

I grabbed utensils and opened the container. The smell of smoked meat teased my nose. “She should be able to sell this formore than she’s paying to get it repaired, but I don’t think it’s a financial thing. She has fond memories of her dad playing the guitar. Even if the cost had been more than resale value, I think she’d have approved the estimate.”

“Is it collectible?” Ollie knew very little about music and guitars. It always bewildered me how he and my brother were such good friends when Ollie was a musical philistine. Hockey had been enough to bond them, apparently.

“Not really. Too many were made to make it rare.”

Ollie turned his attention to his meal. “But things are going good?”

I nodded. For a moment I considered telling him about Diane’s offer, but no. Ollie didn’t know the business and had no idea if this was something I could handle. He’d tell me to ask Cash, and I already knew what he would say.

So I turned the conversation back to him. “How’s it going with the team?”

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