Page 6 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
“Uh, yeah . . . Eden’s letting me crash in one of their spare rooms until I get back on my feet.”
Alex’s expression darkens.
Here it comes . . .
“What’s got you off your feet?” he asks, frowning.
I open my mouth to answer, not sure what words will come out. “My ex cheated on me, and we broke up. I lived with him, so when we broke up, I was the one to leave. Which is why I’m crashing with Eden and Holt.”
Well. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?
Alex’s eyes soften, ice melting into warm blue pools. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I lie, adopting my best I’m fine smile. “So, if either of you have any leads on affordable places in the area, I’m all ears. Even something temporary, just for the summer.”
“Well, how about that.” Saint lifts his glass between us in a toast. “Cheers to the broken hearts club.”
I chuckle at the idea of Saint being anything other than the heartbreaker, but then I realize he’s referring to Alex and me. Apparently, we have something in common, after all. “Here’s to us.”
“You should stay at Saint’s cabin for the summer,” Alex murmurs as his eyes cut to mine.
I wait for the punch line, but it doesn’t come.
“Cabin?” I hear myself asking as the two men exchange a look.
“Saint owns a summer cabin on a lake just outside of Ottawa.”
“I didn’t know you were from Canada,” I say to Saint, who smiles with pride.
“Born and raised.”
Makes sense, I suppose. Lots of hockey players are from Canada. And Russia and Sweden.
Alex doesn’t relent. “You were saying you needed a caretaker for the place.”
Saint tips his head, taking another long drink from his beer. “Yeah. I do.”
“And you won’t be there this summer?” I fiddle with the straw in my drink.
Saint’s expression turns contemplative, his mouth falling into a frown. “I usually make it back every summer, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to swing it this year. So, yeah, I do need someone there to take care of a few things.” He gives Alex a hard look that screams what the fuck are you up to?
Staring back at him, Alex says, “Aspen’s the boss’s executive assistant. Taking care of things is what she does best. Right?”
“Uh, I, um . . . Yes, I guess so.”
“She needs a place to live for the summer. You need someone to stay at the cabin.” Alex joins me in the loveseat and leans back, crossing his bulky arms over his broad chest. “It’s a win-win.”
“How far away is that? Ottawa?”
Wait, am I really considering this? An entire lake house to myself, miles away from my own problems and from Eden and Holt’s love-fest? Heck yes, I’m considering it.
“It’s not quite all the way to Ottawa. It’s in a little town in southern Ontario,” Alex says. “Six hours by car. Easy drive. Totally doable.”
I nod. In six hours, I could get through an audiobook or a few episodes of my favorite podcast. I’d have to stop to pee and eat, but Alex is right—it’s totally doable. And I know Eden is fine with me working remotely. Especially in the off-season.
But this all begs the question, how does Alex know so much about Saint’s cabin? And why isn’t Saint saying much? I direct my gaze toward him.
“It’s not that you’re not welcome, Aspen,” Saint says, staring at Alex. “But as far as the caretaker role is concerned . . .” He scratches his temple.
“Come on, man. She can follow a to-do list.”
It’s like there’s another conversation happening over my head. I swallow nervously, watching their exchange like a riveting game of Ping-Pong.
“The work is . . . manual.” Saint says the word cautiously. “Some of it is heavy duty. Clearing brush from the property. Cutting and storing firewood in case I get up there this winter. Changing air filters. Things like that.”
“That’s why I’ll be there to do the heavy lifting. I could go up next weekend and get all that stuff done easily.”
Wait, what? My mouth drops open as Alex continues.
“And the pay for the caretaker role is what . . . five thousand dollars?”
“Two.” Saint narrows his eyes as he corrects Alex.
“Which is more than generous,” I say quickly.
For the first time since all this cabin talk began, both men turn to me.
“So, Aspen.” Alex grins at me. “What do you think?”
“Well . . .” I gape for a moment, scrambling for words. “I’m happy to apply for the position if Saint is—”
“It’s settled then.” Alex smiles with a gentle pat on my knee that I feel right in my, well everything. Jeez.
“Congratulations, Scaredy Sprout.” Saint chuckles with a bewildered look in his eye. “Looks like you’re my new caretaker.”
I barely process Saint’s firm grip when we shake hands, or what he says before he disappears back downstairs. Something about getting another drink. Oh, and that he’ll email me the details.
