Page 5 of Skating and Fake Dating
“It’s been great having you here assisting Sheridan get settled, and I’m sure you’ll help Crane feel at home up north.”
Coach Badaszek’s words tumble toward me, but I still haven’t read the details of the new assignment.
Once more, I’m flustered because it’shim. I don’t hateCarson. On the contrary, I have mixed feelings. Similar to how I feel about reduced-fat milk. I prefer the original kind, with all its creaminess. One percent is fine in a pinch. Skim, only when I’m desperate. What can I say, I grew up in farm country. Apologies to my dairy-free friends.
See?! This is my mind. I bounce from the hockey heartthrob who teases me to milk.Milk, people!
In my family, I’m known as the quiet one. Where I come from, this is an insult. What they don’t realize is that my head is loud. If a volume dial has ten levels, my thoughts are usually at eleven, bumping into each other, shouting over each other. Once, they had a food fight—as an adult, it’s perfectly acceptable to eat three meals from the same food truck in one day. Plus, that only happened one time before the food truck moved on to another part of town. But boy, did my brain have something to say about it.
The thing is, Carson hates me. Okay, maybe that’s too strong a sentiment. But like everyone else in the world—family included, Nanna excluded—he thinks I’m a joke. His laughter when I tripped and tipped the tray of blondies and his teasing about my attire prove it.
Carson has a gleam in his eyes as they rake over me. “Don’t think of it as babysitting. I’ll be a good boy. Promise.”
Wait. Did my thoughts have a mutiny? While I was already thinking about lunch, my periodic homesickness, and Carson, did I say something potentially rude about being his babysitter?
Clearing my throat, I steal a glance at Coach Badaszek. His eyebrow arches.
Yup. I must’ve said the thing about babysitting.
When my parents asked me what I do, I did my best to make my role in admin for the National Hockey League sound important. My sister snidely said,So, you’re like an adult babysitter?Like a splinter, it must’ve lodged into the depths of my memory and chose to work its way out now.
She’s a divorce attorney and once represented a hostile NFLplayer’s ex, painting her picture of athletes in an unflattering shade of arrogance, calling them all greedy jerks—the exact color of a bruised ego, but don’t worry, no violence was involved.
Coach Badaszek says, “I trust you two will be able to play nice together.”
Between my comments and Carson’s expression, which borders on a grimace, Tommy Badaszek must think we’re at odds. I mean, after the blondie incident, we’re not exactly chummy. No one likes being laughed at and nicknamed for being a klutz.
“What does this mean, exactly?” Carson asks.
“Miss Porter is your new Player Assimilation Liaison,” his coach answers as if that explains it.
“Oh, I thought she was going to revoke my parking privileges.”
My face gets hot because I may have written the wordsWash Meon the tailgate of his truck. To be fair, this was after the blondie incident when I was unable to remove the frosting stains from my singular white blouse. Hearing keys jangling, I scurried away, but he must’ve spotted me that day.
Coach Badaszek continues, “With unconventional trades, we don’t leave our players to fend for themselves. We want to make sure you get settled in with your new team and town. Miss Porter will help with that.”
Carson seems oddly calm about getting this news. I’m not a hockey expert, but the trade deadline came and went months ago. I wonder if this has something to do with his late-season incendiary action on the ice, throwing words at other players like flaming darts, and getting into some heated brawls.
Yet Carson even looked good in his mugshot.
No judgment.
Unfortunately, I’m not a stranger to the wrong side of the law. But I did my best not to be a repeat offender after I found out my ex-boyfriend Tagg, and my cousin Tori got together at my cousin Lily’s christening party. Yes, I’d told him abouthaving to move for my new job, but we hadn’t officially broken up.
He just moved on without so much as a word. With Tori, of all people. Her favorite game is called “One Better.” Get a new baton; she gets one with sparkles. Give a great presentation in high school, hers features a live DJ providing a soundtrack to American history. Receive a college scholarship, she gets a free ride.
Then I got a dog and they don’t make ’em bigger than Great Danes, do they? But then she got my boyfriend in a game I didn’t even want to play.
Coach Badaszek’s words float toward me as if from some alternate dimension. “The good news is the Ice Breakers are based in your neck of the woods in Washington state. It’s the perfect match.”
Carson wears a strained grin. “Looks like it’s going to be you and me in Maple Falls, Blondie.”
I sniff, not exactly thrilled at being stuck with a guy who clearly thinks I’m a foolish child, while my body rebels and thinks he’s an attractive man. This makes me worry I’m going to encounter him on that dreamy, dusty road again. Hopefully, this time, I won’t be wearing an eyepatch in addition to having wooden teeth.
CHAPTER 4
CARSON
