Page 36 of The Ex Puck Bunny
“Sounds fun.”
“Whit married one of the hockey players too. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Sophia rolls her eyes as if their husbands’ occupations as professional NHL players are beneath her.
“And what is it Mr. Sophia does?” I ask, unable to suppress my irritation. It’s not like I want to defend hockey players. Far from it. But unlike my minute-long marriage, I want to see their marriages flourish and don’t wish anyone ill.
Before Sophia answers my question about her husband’s line of work, he pops into the room and announces that it’s morning quiet time. I take that as my cue to leave. I thank them and say goodbye, muttering to Bunny about how we use our manners because the older MC won’t stop screaming at the top of her lungs.
So much for quiet time.
I buckle my daughter into her car seat, glad we have the rest of the day to spend together. This afternoon will be perfect for a trip to the park.
Sophia hollers out the door, “I’ll text you about the Cobbiton Kid Corral.”
I reply with a limp wave.
By the way, can I just not be the mom who volunteers foreverything? I don’t enjoy making cupcakes and using hot glue. I’d be happy to help in other ways though—teaching them to ice skate, playing games, reading, and that kind of thing. That’s like the kids’ version of what I did for the Lions.
Since I’m thinking about activities direction and Grady, of course, his truck is leaving the driveway at the exact moment I’m loading us into the car.
Through the truck’s windshield, I make out his carved features. My thoughts drift to the drive home and what happened afterward, leaving my lips tingling all night. The ghost of his touch still lingers. I shiver even though the spring sun is high overhead.
“Mama cold?” Bunny asks.
I give her a little hug in case she is.
As Grady approaches, I tell myself everything that happened between us was a dream. A figment of my imagination.
However, by the way that my stomach swoops and my pulse accelerates, it’s a dream I want to dive back into. I’m afraid I’m developing . . . never mind. No way.
Lying to myself about this is the easiest and most dangerous thing I could do to avoid the truth.
Grady stops on the street where I’d parked the 4Runner. In his lifted truck, he strikes an imposing figure.
His rough hands cupped my jaw so gently. Gaze heavy, his eyelashes brushed his cheeks before our lips met . . .
“Fancy seeing you here.” His voice is gravelly like I’m the first person he’s spoken to since waking up.
I startle from my thoughts even though I knew he was going to greet us.
“Fancy neighborhood,” I counter.
He looks around and with what sounds like relief in hisvoice, he says, “Yeah. I take it you two had a playdate with the Snoots.”
My lips crack with a smile. “You mean the Schusters?”
“They’re faux snooty. I remember Sophia from high school.”
“And that she and I were best friends.”
“Vaguely. She was a flirt, especially with other girls’ boyfriends.”
“Also that. For the record, I regret playing for the wrong team.”
His eyebrows lift. “So you’re going to help me with the Knights stuff?”
“I meant the mean team.” I glance over my shoulder.
Sophia waves to us from the upper window of the house, watching and probably gathering gossip like a wasp to bring back to the hive. The house next door is for sale and although fences make great neighbors, I would love to move in next to her, if only to knock her off her snooty tower.
