Page 30 of Hot for the Hockey Player
“I mean, she asked if I was single.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t reply.”
“Good … good.”
“She knows I was coming here though.I said I had a pottery class.”The way his eyes bugged out again, had me cringing.“Did I fuck up?”
“She’ll be here within the hour, mark my words.”
“Seriously?Why?”
Shaking his head, he grabbed the template which was just a twelve-inch-long piece of rectangular cardstock cut about five inches wide and laid it down on top of his rolled-out clay.I did the same.“Because she’ll want to know what we’re talkin‘ ’bout.She’ll want to know everything.”He glanced to the ceiling.“I’m not a religious man, but may all the gods help us if that woman finds out who you really are.”
Fear ran hot, spiky footsteps through me, and my stomach tightened.I hadn’t been on the island long, but I really liked that I could walk into the grocery store and nobody knew who I was.And those at the pub that did recognize me didn’t hound me.I was happy to take pictures and sign autographs, but I was on the island to rest, not for publicity.
Hugh and I fell into silence for a little while as we worked together.I followed his lead, watching his slightly gnarled hands manipulate the clay.Eventually, we had our mugs with the honeycomb design on the outside.His looked much better than mine, but for a first timer, I didn’t think mine looked too bad.“Now, you decorate as you’d like,” he said.“You can add a handle, or not.Add bees, or not.Add flowers, or whatever.”
His finished inspiration piece had a few little handmade bees adhered to the sides of the mug, along with a handle, and a scattering of daisies.I wanted to emulate that one as best I could.Hugh hummed away as he mindlessly made bees and flowers, his knobby and gnarled old hands surprisingly agile and careful with the small, intricate pieces of clay.I struggled a fair bit more, and my bees were not uniform at all.Some little suckers were significantly fatter than others.
“That can just be the queen,” he said, when I held up my monster bee, who’d clearly had too much honey, and inspected it.
I snorted.“Thanks.”
Next came the flowers and leaves.To be honest, it was actually really relaxing, sculpting and creating.When I was finally finished, and placed mine next to Hugh’s, I felt a level of pride and accomplishment I hadn’t felt in a really long time.
He rested a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.“Great work for a first try.You should be proud.Your mom will love it.”
I grinned at him just as the door to the studio opened and who should enter, but Ms.Island Mouth herself.Her sparkly gaze lit up as she held the door for two other older women, trailing behind her like ladies in waiting.“I hoped we’d catch you here, Maverick,” she said, sashaying up to me where I stood next to Hugh.
“How can we help you today, Jolene?”Hugh asked flatly.“I don’t see you on my schedule for any of my pottery classes.”
“Oh, Hugh,” Jolene batted her hand in his direction as she removed her jacket hood from her head.“I just wanted to introduce Brenda and Karen to Maverick here.”
“Why?”Hugh asked.“Why are you following this poor guy around?”
Jolene reared back as if Hugh had smacked her.“Excuse me?”
Hugh plunked his hands on his hips and gave Jolene and her friends a very disapproving look.“Jolene, you need to leave this young man in peace.If he wanted you to know more about him, he’d share it with you.Even then, you don’t need to follow him to my place of business and hound him.”
“We’re nothoundinghim, Hugh.We’re the San Camanez Island Welcome Wagon and we’re here to welcome Mister …” She lifted her brows at me, waiting for me to give her my last name.
I knew better than that—now.
“Just call me Maverick, or Mav,” I said, not taking the bait.
She was definitely put out by that, but wasn’t flustered for long.She smacked on a big smile.“We’re simply here to welcomeMaverickto the island.And when he told me he had pottery class, well, I knew I had to bring Brenda and Karen along to meet him.”
“Did you really now?”Hugh asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.It was all I could do not to smirk.I liked Hugh a lot, and even more so because he was sticking up for me.I was a people pleaser, and probably would have succumbed to Jolene’s tyranny, giving her everything from my mother’s maiden name to my social security number.
“Yes,” Jolene huffed.She turned to me again.“Maverick, as the Welcome Wagon, we’d love to officially welcome you to San Camanez Island.”
“Thank you …”
Was that it?
“This is Brenda Pickford.Her family has been on the island for years.Her husband, Otto, is the principal at the elementary school.”
