Page 17 of Goalie Interference

Chapter 8

Yes, I’m scared

Sophie

Now that I knew the Mountain Man was Remy, and a hockey player, I had a better idea of how to work around his schedule. Ollie might not have been playing when we were together, but we’d been close enough friends when he had been that I knew the broad strokes. Mornings should be fine to make noise while he was at practice. And in the afternoons, if he was home, I could go to String Theory. With any luck I could be done with the big machine work on my current project by the time he was likely to be back today. And when the season began he’d be traveling, and the carriage house would be all mine.

I left the house for the workshop as soon as I thought it reasonable for Remy to have left for the arena, assuming he’d have to be at training camp at nine again. Goober had slunk in for food while I had been drinking my coffee, and I’d shut her in the house. She’d complain but I wouldn’t be there to hear it, and eventually she’d give up and sleep till I returned. Hopefully. I didn’t know who was taking care of Remy’s dog, but in case the animal was around the property, it was better to be safe thansorry. If Goober injured the dog, Cash would have to pay for the vet bills, but Remy would probably raise a fuss. Then Ollie might get involved and it would be a big mess.

Damn Cash. Or more accurately, damn Dad.

I followed my normal path to the carriage house along the drive. The grounds were maintained so beautifully it felt wrong to take a shortcut and wear a path in the grass. When I got to the fork where I’d turn left to the shop, movement at the gate caught my eye and I saw my new neighbor there, his dog on a leash beside him. At least, it should be him. Same build, same shaggy hair, but the beard was gone.

Was he taking the dog off the property for a walk? But why now, when—I checked my watch—he should be on his way to the arena?

A Porsche pulled up to the gates. Definitely not an Uber. I should just mind my own business and get to work. Lingering was being nosy, sure, but I was curious about what was going on. It was possible that this related to Cash somehow, right? Remy leaned down to talk through the window to whoever was driving, so apparently he knew the guy. If he’d been telling him to get lost, it wouldn’t take that long.

Was Remy taking his pet to practice? Otherwise he should have Beast safely stowed in the apartment. He straightened, looked at his phone, then the dog, and then down the street behind the car. The guy in the vehicle stepped out. Gesturing happened. I tried to interpret it. Was he dropping the dog off somewhere, and the car driver wouldn’t take it? Remembering how the dog snarled yesterday, I sympathized.

I was getting anxious about how late Remy was going to be and how wound up Ollie would get. Maybe I should offer to take the dog? I’d do a lot to avoid an Ollie blowup, even secondhand. Damn it all, why was my life the one being upset instead of Dad or Cash or even Ollie?

I would regret this, but I couldn’t just stand by. I approached the party at the gate. “What’s the problem?”

Remy’s head whipped around. “Oh, hi.”

Damn, without the beard you could see his face, and it was a good one. Strong jaw, firm lips, currently frowning.

“We gotta go, Remy. Being late for the second day of training camp is not the impression you want to make. And you can’t take your animal to the arena.”

Using my stellar powers of deduction, I concluded this was another Aces player. He was almost as tall as Remy, probably someone I should know of since I didn’t think there would be many Asian players on the team.

Remy looked from the driver to me. “Someone from the dog day care was coming to deal with Beast, but they haven’t arrived.” Remy’s phone made a beep and he opened it with relief. He read the message and rubbed a hand over his face, shoulders dropping. “Fuck.”

Whoever was supposed to take care of his dog, which was currently glaring at the other hockey player with a lifted lip and a constant growl, was obviously not about to show up.

Remy dropped his hand. “They can’t come for Beast. Van broke down. I don’t have a vehicle yet, and I can’t take Beast to training camp.”

Pretty much what I’d thought. The worry in those green eyes tugged at me. My problem-solving brain immediately tried to work out a solution. “What does your dog need?”

“What do you mean?”

“Walking, feeding, what?”

He cocked his head. “I took him for a walk, and he’s been fed.”

“Is he going to pee on my stuff?”

A hopeful look brightened those eyes, the corners of his mouth tilting up. Something fluttered inside me. “He shouldn’t. He’s housebroken.”

“Okay, then go. I’m not a dog sitter, and I’m not doing this again, but for today I’ll take him till you come back. I have to work, so I’m just going to tie him up in the corner of the shop.” With water and a blanket, but I did have deadlines for my repair jobs.

“He’ll be good.” The anxious look on Remy’s face made that sound more like a wish than a certainty. “He spent most of the night investigating the apartment, so he should sleep. I’ll owe you. Anything.”

“Just go.”

I opened the pedestrian door of the gate and he passed me the leash for the dog, still glaring and growling at the other man. Remy and the other player both scrambled inside the Porsche, leaving the monster I was holding without his source of vitriol.

“Be good, Beast,” Remy said out the window.

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