Page 122 of Hot for the Hockey Player
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Gabrielle
Iwasjustpickingout a good, healthy bunch of cilantro for the tacos for dinner when my phone buzzed in my jacket pocket.
(Maverick)
Dad’s gone.Really need to see you.Come back soon.
Dread and worry unfurled in my belly like one of those memory foam mattresses that basically explodes when you remove the plastic shrink-wrap.
I replied.
Just finishing up at the grocery store.On my way.
I just needed to grab a few tomatoes and some avocados, then I’d head to the checkout.For a Saturday, the Town Center Grocery Store wasn’t overly busy.So with my grocery list now completely ticked off, I made my way to the front of the store, stupidly passing the refrigerator section with all the gourmet cheeses.And fucking hell, smoked gouda was on sale.
My shoes nearly squeaked on the floor.I stopped so fast.With a sigh, I grabbed the cheapest round and put it into my shopping basket, refusing to overthink things.It was on sale.That was how I was going to justify this impulse purchase of an item that wasn’t on my list.
I paid for my bounty at the checkout, chatting amicably with Jordana as she rang me up, even though my head was back in Maverick’s cabin.How was he doing?He said he really needed to see me, which probably meant things with his dad didn’t go well.
“Thanks, Jordana,” I said, taking my fabric shopping bags and waiting for the automatic doors to open so I could walk through, my arms loaded.I squinted as that shiny ball of fire in the sky tried to burn my corneas, only to bump into a big wall of muscle that grunted.“Sorry,” I murmured.“Can’t see with that sun.”
A strong, meaty hand gripped my elbow—tight—sending alarm bells raging inside of me.I jerked away out of his grasp and turned my body and head enough to make out his face.
Kirby Roy wore a scowl like I’d just told him hockey was an inferior sport to table tennis.Even though the sky was blue and the sun was out, staring into Kirby’s eyes made the hair on the back of my neck stand up as if a storm was imminent.
“Mr.Roy,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Were you sleeping with my son when he lived with you?When he was achild?”
Of course, right at that moment Jolene Dandy, the Island Mouth, had to walk up the steps and past us, her ears practically swiveling like a satellite as she slowed her pace to eavesdrop.
I glanced at her.“Keep moving, Jolene.”
Her coppery, brown eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped.“Gabrielle!”
“Don’t even,” I warned her, deepening my glare.“Keep moving.”
Her gasp of offense didn’t bother me at all, and luckily, she knew what was good for her and headed inside.
“I’d like an answer, Ms.Campbell,” Kirby said, his voice low, almost menacing.
I swallowed and squared my shoulders at him.“No.I was not sleeping with your son when he lived with me.When he was a child.I had no romantic feelings for your son at all when he lived with us.No improprieties occurred in the three years your son was a minor and lived under my roof.We only began our romantic, intimate relationship this year, as consenting adults.”
He made a mocking noise in his throat.“Nice lawyer speak.”
“Well, Iama lawyer.”
That caught his attention, and his sandy-blond brows crawled up his weathered and wrinkly forehead a little.“You know he’s considering not returning to hockey?”
I frowned.“I know Maverick is recovering from a serious injury, making the most of his downtime, exploring new hobbies and relaxing for probably the first time in his life.”
“Relaxing is for the weak.”
“Opinions are like assholes.We all have one, don’t we?”
Fire ignited in his eyes, the same shade of blue with the gold flecks, as Maverick.“If he doesn’t go back, that’s on you.Waving this … hippy-dippy way of life and that stupid, woke-ass podcast bullshit in front of his face.That’s your fault.”
