Page 32 of Hot for the Hockey Player
I fished my wallet out of my back pocket and peeled out the amount we agreed upon, handing over the bills.
“This money includes the paintin‘ next week and firin‘ charge,” he added.“Come by …” He scratched his head.“Come by Thursday, around eleven again.”
Grinning from ear-to-ear, I stuck my hand out to shake his.“I will.Thank you again, Hugh.”
He grunted and gave me one firm shake before releasing me.
I headed for the studio exit.“Enjoy the rest of your day.”I opened the door and gave him a wave.
“Stay away from those three gossipin‘ geese,” he said, before returning to the workbench where I found him ninety minutes ago and cranking the tunes again.
“I’ll try my best.”Then I headed to my truck, pleased with my mug, my new friend named Hugh, and excited to work with my hands more next week.
Even though I had to steer clear of a few rumor rats, San Camanez Island was proving to be a gem of a place with healing properties abound.And I’d only just tapped into what it offered.Maybe this time next month, not only would my back be better, but my soul would be healthier too.
Chances were good.At least, that’s how I chose to look at it.
CHAPTER NINE
Gabrielle
Thursday,thekidscamehome from school, and unlike yesterday, Damon’s mood seemed to be lighter.He even said “Hey” to me when he came in the door.
“How was your day?”I asked, rolling lasagna noodles through the hand-crank pasta machine.
He shrugged and sat down at the dining room table across from Laurel, who quietly did her homework.“Fine.”Flopping open his binder, he flipped to a blank sheet of loose-leaf, then opened up his math textbook.
I didn’t want to push, but at the same time, after our conversation last night regarding the kids at school and their limited knowledge of our past, I was very curious to know if anything else had come up.
“Can Mav come over tonight?”my son asked after about five minutes of him sitting there doing his homework in silence.
“Once your homework is done.”I fed another sheet of dough through the two rolling cylinders to flatten them.
Damon grunted.“Almost done.”He used his thumbprint to open his phone and shot off a text.Presumably to Maverick.“Can he come for dinner too?”
“Did he ask if he could come for dinner?”
“No.”Damon’s voice cracked, and he went red in the face.“I’m asking if I can invite him.”He lifted his gray gaze to mine.“Please, Mom.”
I only hesitated a moment before nodding.“Sure.Invite him over.”
“Thanks.”
An uncomfortable thrill filled my belly at the thought of seeing Maverick again.I finished up with the lasagna noodles, cleaned my mess, then got to work assembling the casserole.I probably looked a mess.Once I stuffed the lasagna into the oven, I headed to the bathroom.“What time did you tell Maverick to come—”
Knock, knock, knock.
Oh, shit.
“That’s him,” Damon said, shutting his binder and math book.“I just finished my homework too.”
I couldn’t remember the last time my son had so much excitement in his voice.He practically leaped from his seat at the dining room table and dashed for the door.Laurel had long since finished her homework and was now reading in her room.
I ducked into the bathroom to check my hair and makeup.
Meh.
Could be better, but not as bad as I feared.I wore my chestnut-brown hair in loose, chunky waves over my shoulders like I always did, and my makeup was subtle—as always.I gave my cheeks a quick pinch, slathered on some tinted lip balm, and sucked in a deep breath before heading back out to the living room.
