Page 60 of Skating and Fake Dating
“Yes, sir. Birmingham.”
“Hmm. Not much hockey down there, I’d imagine.”
As Carson launches into the story of how he fell in love with hockey at an indoor rink on a school field trip, I escape to the kitchen to help Mom and Nanna.
“He’s such a gentleman,” Nanna whispers, handing me a stack of plates to set the table.
“Yes, he is,” I agree because denying that would be ridiculous.
“And he looks at you like wife material,” she adds with a giggle.
I nearly drop the plates. “He does not.”
She pats my cheek. “I’ve been around long enough to know when a man is smitten and he was eying you like the sweetest thing since sugar when you were in my kitchen, I might add.”
“We’re just ...” I lower my voice because I cannot lie, so I avoid the truth. “It’s not that serious yet.”
“If you say so.” Nanna turns back to the potatoes, unconvinced.
By the time we sit down to dinner, Carson has somehow charmed my entire family, including my aunts with their henhouse clucks and cackles. He’s discussed fishing with Dad and my uncles, complimented Mom’s cooking, and tossed Nanna a wink because he knows they’re her winning recipes.Not to mention, he pulls out some hilarious and impressive hockey stories to entertain the cousins who always seem to be here. Even my sister isn’t giving him the hairy eyeball, which is a minor miracle.
“So, Carson,” Odette says as we’re passing around the mashed potatoes.
Never mind. I spoke, er, thought too soon. She levels me with her gaze while asking, “You two met while Bailey was working for the Nebraska Knights. Isn’t that against personnel policy?”
I choke on my water.Here we go. This again.
Carson doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ve been careful to keep things professional when on site. Bailey is exceptional at her job—I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
Odette sniffs as if she’s going to march down to HQ and report us.
Carson continues, “However, upon reviewing the NHL conduct guidebook as well as the team-specific rules, there is no prohibition against Bailey’s position as a floating staff member engaging in a relationship with a player.”
“So responsible, our Bailey,” Nanna says.
Odette adds, “I have to say, I’m surprised. She’s usually so scattered.”
“Odette,” Mom warns.
Aunt Doris launches into a story about when I came to visit so she could teach me quilt making. I accidentally sewed the yellow fabric square with little white flowers to the batting … and my shirt.
Jordan races past, being chased by some of the other cousins. “And she once fought me for the last cookie.”
Ignoring this, my sister says, “What? It’s a compliment! I’m just saying, Bailey usually forgets her phone three times a week and once showed up to Uncle Ernie’s birthday dinner a day late. It’s impressive that she’s maintaining a relationship with someone so put together.”
Everyone at the table falls into wide-eyed, awkward silence. I stare at my plate, face burning.
“Actually,” Carson says, his voice warm but firm, “one of the things I admire most about Bailey is her creativity. She approaches life with a sense of wonder that most people lose as adults.” He looks at me with such genuine affection that for a moment, I forget we’re pretending.
My sister blathers on, but her voice fades and I can only hear Carson’s low, Southern rumble filling my ears. It’s just the two of us on that dusty road.
“You should see her workspace—it’s immaculately organized and she knows exactly where everything is. She might be five minutes late to a meeting, but that’s because she was making sure every detail was perfect and bringing snacks for everyone. I may be ‘put together,’ as you say, but Bailey brings color to everything she touches, including my life. I was lost before she came along.”
The table is silent again, but for a different reason. Mom’s hand is splayed across her chest like that’s the most romantic thing she’s ever heard. Dad is nodding slightly. Even Odette seems taken aback. Nanna grins widely like she knows something I don’t. Please don’t say it’s that she’s well aware this is all for show.
“Well,” Dad finally says, raising his glass, “I’ll drink to that.”
As glasses clink, Mom says, “At last, husband material!”
