Wingmen are a Girl's Best Friend: Laketown Hockey Read online

  “Well, there was at least one member of that gang with a heart, or else Moofie wouldn’t be here now. He’s actually a dream to walk. If you want to get some volunteer hours, Teresa is always looking for dog walkers.”

  Moofie’s forlorn eyes flashed into my memory and I squeezed my eyes shut to make them go away. “I…” I was trying to think of an excuse not to do it. The last thing I needed was to fall in love with a damn dog. The excuses that ran through my mind were lame though. Could I just walk a dog here and there and not get attached? There was no way I could adopt a dog. First of all, my mom would kill me. Secondly, what if I got drafted? Could I leave my mom with a dog the size of a small horse?

  “I might be able to walk them one or two days a week,” I said, knowing I’d find an excuse not to do it.

  “Really?” Gunnar turned to me and flashed the truest smile I’d ever seen on his face. “That’s awesome, Leo. You know, not just anyone can walk these dogs. They need strong leadership. An alpha.”

  I nodded. “I think I can do it.”

  “I know you can,” Gunnar replied. “Now, where the hell is this party?” He gestured to the trunk. “That keg is getting warm.”

  I looked at Gunnar like he had three heads. The party was all the guys on the team had talked about for the last two weeks. “It’s at Fitzy’s cottage.”

  “Fitzy? Like Kane Fitzgerald?”

  “Jesus, man. Where have you been?” Kane Fitzgerald was a former Otters’ player who had been drafted to the National League.

  “Why is he inviting… us?” Gunnar looked at me.

  “What do you mean?” The question didn’t make any sense to me.

  “He’s past all this small-town shit, isn’t he?”

  I realized that I rarely heard Gunnar swear. “He was an Otter for years, and his family has had their cottage for generations. He isn’t past all this small town…” I paused. “Shit. He wrote the book on it. And he’s still friends with a lot of the players. Getting to hang out with the National League guys is important. You know—networking.” I air quoted networking and flashed Gunnar a grin, hoping to diffuse the discussion.

  “Leo.” Gunnar pulled up to the one stoplight on the main street and turned to face me. “You don’t need to network with the players to make it.” His eyes flashed dark and then reflected the green of the traffic light. “You just have to start trying.”

  He accelerated as we reached the town limits. There was a lump in my throat as I directed him to Mustang Point Road and Kent Fitzgerald’s lake house. My cheeks burned red, and I stuck to hockey talk for the rest of the drive. Who the hell did he think he was? Gunnar Lockwood had listened to one too many motivational speakers. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know what I wanted or what I was capable of. The night got intensely darker as we entered onto the heavily forested single-lane gravel road, the pine trees hanging heavily above us, their boughs blocking the light from the moon. I couldn’t wait to get to the party and get away from Gunnar. I rubbed my hands on my jeans. I was going to get so drunk I would forget all about this pep talk. The worst part about the whole thing? Deep down, I knew that he was fucking right.

  Three

  Faith

  The crowd at Valerock was starting to get rowdy. The trendy resto-bar had just opened for the season and Laketownies and cottagers were lined up to get a seat. Over the winter, Laketown was practically a ghost town, with the town shuttered up and the population dwindling to the hearty few that had found a way to make it work in the seasonal cottage community. But in the summer, Valerock was THE place to see and be seen.

  Looking like she’d just stepped off a Milan runway, a hostess in a form-fitting black dress motioned for me to follow her through the crowded room. I could feel the eyes of the men seated at the bar follow our path. At one point in my life, I had contemplated selling my soul and working at Valerock. I had all the qualifications they were looking for: long blond hair, and even longer legs. The tips would’ve paid for my tuition at Chrysanthemum College, plus all my supplies, but Mel D Designs needed me, and I just couldn’t get behind a company that hired women because of their looks. It felt gross then, and feeling the male gazes glued to our asses as we reached the table, double gross now.

  Amber stood as I reached the table and embraced me. The hostess set down a heavy black menu on the shellacked oak table and pulled out a leather chair.

  “Thank you.” I smiled as I sat down, shooting my eyes toward the leering douchebags at the bar in their topsiders and popped collars. The boldest of the group held my gaze for a split second before turning his attention elsewhere. I had resting bitch face down to a science, and there was no mistaking it for a coy glance, not a chance in hell.

  “Ugh.” I rolled my eyes and nodded my head toward the bar crowd.

  Amber followed my gesture and then smiled at me. “They’re men. They can’t help but look at pretty women.” She shrugged.

  “There’s looking and then there’s leering.”

  Amber glanced up at them over the top of the wine list. “I think that’s looking.”

  “You’re too kind. I’ll talk to you in August after you’ve seen these cottage guys in action. They’re almost as bad as the hockey players.”

  The hostess returned to the table and Amber handed her the wine list. “We’ll take the Pinot Grigio.”

  “Nice choice.” Her voice went up at the end like it was a question and her perfect teeth flashed as she smiled and disappeared into the crowd.

  Amber looked stunning. She was thirty-three but could pass for ten years younger–the same as me. “You look amazing. Look at those guns.” I squeezed her lithe and tanned forearms. “Have they added something to the water here?”

  Amber’s cheeks reddened. “There’s a new pilates studio on Oak Street. You should check it out.” She reached for her handbag. “I think I have a guest pass in here. You should come with me.”

  “I would love to, but you don’t need to get it now.”

  “Okay.” Amber stopped shuffling around in her ginormous handbag. It definitely would not have been approved to fit in the overhead luggage compartment of a plane.

  “What have you got in there?”

  “Fabric samples.” Amber laughed. “I’m dropping them off after dinner.”

  Hiring Amber had been the best decision my mom had ever made. She was talented and worked hard. A carbon copy of the first hostess arrived at the table with a wine carafe and our bottle of wine.

  “Pinot Grigio?” She smiled, her teeth impossibly white next to her red lipstick. She looked to both Amber and me, as if she were trying to figure out which one of us had ordered the bottle. Amber smiled and nodded. After pouring a quickly approved sample, the server, whose name was Paige, filled our glasses and left us to study the menus, the wine nestled into an ice bucket next to the table.

  “What’s good here?” Amber asked as she opened up the menu.

  “I keep forgetting that you’re new to town,” I laughed. “It feels like you’ve been here forever.” I opened the menu and saw that there were a few new items, but the majority of it was the same as last year–and the year before. “The maple pickerel is good.” I scanned the menu, tracing its thick embossed paper with my index finger. “I also like the…” I started to say venison but couldn’t. “Steak. You can’t go wrong with the filet here. It’s grass-fed from the Marshland Farm.”

  Amber studied the menu like she was going to have a test on it. “What are you getting?” she asked.

  “The camembert fritters salad.” I shut the menu. “You probably don’t do deep fried.” I felt a need to explain why I hadn’t recommended the salad.

  “Have you ever been to Florida?” she laughed. “Everything is breaded and ‘lightly,’” she used air quotes, “fried. But I could use some red meat.” She tapped her finger on her lips.

  The music got a little louder, and Paige returned to take our order and fill up our glasses. “It’s a good thing I rode my bike here,” I laughed
. My head was already feeling a little lighter. My bike, a mauve beach cruiser, sat locked in the bike stand at the front of Valerock.

  “Uh-uh.” Amber shook her head and put her hand over her glass to stop Paige from filling it up. “If I wake up tomorrow and hear that a local woman got charged with drunk biking, I’d never forgive myself.” She pushed her glass away from her. “I’ll have the rest with dinner. I still have to deliver those samples.”

  I nudged the wine glass closer to Amber. “Just call your boyfriend. He’ll pick you up… or you can double on my handlebars!”

  “All the way to Pine Hill?” Amber laughed. “And…” she tapped her front teeth. “I’d like to keep these if possible.”

  “Pine Hill?” I picked up the wine glass and jokingly moved it to the far side of the table. “That’s one of our biggest accounts.”

  “Almost as big at the Yates job.” Amber nodded. “And trust me, if I had to show up there, I wouldn’t have even a sip.”

  I straightened the cutlery on the table, a habit of mine from years of staging homes to perfection. “Are they giving Mom a hard time? I mean, I know that she can handle it, but considering everything that’s happened in the last year, I’m not sure how much more stress that woman can take.”

  Amber swallowed a sip of water. “They’re demanding, but reasonable. Your mom knows exactly how to deal with them and their staff.” She smoothed the linen napkin on her lap and kept her gaze down. “There haven’t been any updates about your father? At all?”

  “Nothing. It’s like my dad vanished into thin air. I mean, he was always into extraterrestrials, so maybe one of them finally got tired of his conspiracies and scooped him up.” I laughed, but even to my own ears, it sounded forced. “He’s an outdoorsman, so for the first little while I wasn’t exactly worried. I mean, if anyone could survive the apocalypse, it would be my dad.” This time the laugh was real. “My dad knew all about foraging, he was never without a knife in his pocket. And after over a year, there’s that hope… I mean, I still have it.” I took a sip of wine to slow my racing thoughts. “It’s dwindling, but I feel like I would just know if he was dead. And I just don’t feel it. Mom was the same, but lately, I feel like she’s giving up.” The tightness in my throat caught me off guard. “Actually, I think that she’s already given up…” I added and blinked hard, trying to fight the sudden stinging in my eyes.

  Amber squeezed my hand. “I don’t think that your mom will ever lose hope that he’ll come back. She just does things…” Amber pursed her lips together as if searching for the right word. “Mel D’s way.” There was a lightness in her voice.

  I knew exactly what she meant. When they say someone is tough as nails, they’re talking about my mom, only she’s as tough as nails made of titanium. Not only had she built up an interior design firm from scratch, but she also maintained our country home, clearing snow from the driveway with a tractor all winter. On top of that, she’d also self-installed a new generator after having to wire in a new sump pump during a freak winter storm that had turned our basement into a swimming pool.

  The tears were easily swiped away with the back of my hand and I smiled at Amber. “Thanks. Sometimes I forget that I wasn’t the only one to lose someone. I lost my dad, but she lost her soulmate.”

  Amber’s eyes shone and I could tell that she was also holding in tears. I cleared my throat and plastered on a big smile. “Speaking of soulmates, how are things with Dean?”

  Amber had fallen in love with Dean Covington, the coach of the Laketown Otters, shortly after moving in next door to him.

  She grinned sheepishly and took a sip of her wine.

  “You’re blushing. You two are so cute.”

  Amber laughed. “It’s not all sunshine and lollipops. Kira is a real piece of work.”

  “Really?” I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows. “The woman who abandoned her daughter and moved to Europe with a twenty-five-year-old hockey player, only to come back barefoot and pregnant, is giving you a hard time?”

  Amber choked on her wine and pounded her chest with her fist. “I guess when you put it that way…”

  I interrupted. “What way? I was being nice. I left out the part where she tried to weasel her way back into Dean’s house by telling him the baby was his.” I hadn’t thought about Kira since I’d left, and a wave of guilt swept over me. It was like Laketown ceased to exist the minute I drove across the county line. I was a bad friend. At that moment, I made a mental note to be more involved with my Laketown friendships. Even though I was gone, life still went on in this sleepy town. Coaches fell in love with their neighbors, local hockey players got drafted to the big leagues, and old friends forgot about each other.

  “Where did you just go?” Amber’s voice was the first thing to come back to me. Then came the noise of the restaurant — the plates clattering, the band warming up, the increasingly intoxicated crowd shouting just a little louder.

  I was close enough to hug her, so I did. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when I left.”

  Amber drew back and looked at me directly in the eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “I never even asked you about what happened with Kira. When I called—which was not often enough — all we ever talked about was design.”

  Amber laughed. “Faith. We…” she pointed at my chest and then to hers. “Design runs through our veins. I don’t think we can have a conversation and not talk about a job, or a mood board, or the color of the year, which is…”

  “…Ultimate Grey or Illuminating!” We both chimed at the same time and burst into laughter.

  “It’s refreshing talking to you,” Amber said. “Kira’s a nightmare. I’m a stepmom, and don’t have a lot in common with the other moms. I mean, they’re mostly lovely, but I don’t know what to say to a lot of them.”

  I wondered if she was just being kind. “Thanks, Amber. I realize that I’m not the greatest at maintaining friendships and I can’t believe I didn’t keep up with what was happening in your life–especially the Kira saga.”

  Amber pursed her lips. “You’re in college, Faith. You’ve got a lot going on. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  She was saying the kindest words, but I knew that I needed to try harder.

  The waitress arrived at our table with oversized white plates expertly balanced on her toned arm. She set the venison in front of Amber and the salad in front of me. “Pepper?” She pulled a huge peppermill from under her arm. Amber nodded, but I held my hand over my salad. Pepper, no matter how light, made me sneeze. I put my hand underneath my nose as Paige cracked the corns onto Amber’s medallion steak.

  “Thank you.” Amber smiled.

  “Is there anything else you need right now?” She tucked the pepper mill under her arm, and took the bottle of wine from the ice, filling my glass. Amber’s had sat untouched. We both shook our heads and she disappeared into the crowd.

  Amber stabbed a mini potato and I proceeded to get as much greenery on my fork as possible. I didn’t know if Amber was done with the Kira conversation, but it didn’t matter, my curiosity was officially piqued. “So… a nightmare?” I shoved a forkful of salad into my mouth.

  Amber finished chewing the potato and rolled her eyes. “She’s working hard at repairing her relationship with Chloe, but I think part of that game plan is reuniting with Chloe’s father.”

  “No,” I gasped and paused before taking another bite. “Does she really think he would go back to her? After what she did, and after being with you?” Amber was gorgeous both inside and out, and Kira was—well, there wasn’t a nice way of putting it–textbook small town trash. And she had cheated on Dean with one of his players. Not once, but twice.

  Amber smiled. “You’re sweet, Faith. And no, I don’t think he’d ever get back together with her.”

  “What about Chloe? Now that the dust has settled, how’s she doing?”

  Amber’s face lit up. “I’m learning so much from her. That kid is remarkably
adaptable–and also very forgiving, more forgiving than any adult I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s a relief. You know you’re not the evil stepmother.”

  “Not yet.” Amber grinned. “The divorce has to get finalized first.” Amber must have seen me looking at her plate. “Do you want to try some?” She nudged the plate my way.

  “No,” I said a little too quickly. “It’s just that I haven’t eaten venison since Dad disappeared. I can’t bring myself to do it.” Even though my mouth was watering at the perfectly prepared medallion on its bed of porcini mushrooms. “Just like my mom can’t bring herself to eat the strawberry rhubarb pie in the freezer.” I smiled hard, the action keeping the tears at bay. “I think she’s waiting for him to come home to eat it. It was his favorite.”

  Amber cleared her throat and I sympathized. What do you say to someone whose father walked into the woods and never came home? Luckily, Paige returned to the table to check up on our meals. “How is everything?” she asked.

  “Great!” We chimed together.

  Paige had two martinis on her tray and set them down on the table. She tilted her head toward the bar. “These are from the two gentlemen.” As if on cue, douchebag number one and douchier bag number two grinned at us from above their pastel collars.

  “Please tell them ‘No, thank you’.” I handed my drink back to Paige.

  Amber shrugged at Paige and slid hers away as well. “I’m driving.”

  Paige whispered, “Are you sure? “Do you know who that is?”

  I couldn’t help but glance at the duo at the bar, whose arrogant grins had been replaced with what appeared to be looks of genuine interest.

  “I don’t care who they are. Please tell them, ‘Thank you, but…’” I felt a need to explain, but then stopped. I didn’t owe anyone an explanation, let alone two strangers, “Just, ‘Thank you.’ Please tell them that.”

  “Fair enough.” Paige set the olive-laden glasses back on her tray. I didn’t watch her walk away or look to see how the news had gone over with the men. I knew the type. They were at their summer cottage and looking for a fling, someone to keep their boathouse beds warm for the summer.