Page 4 of Much Ado About Hockey

That meant she was low maintenance… maybe too low? Her hair wasn’t really fixed up, nor did it have any frippery to make it seem styled. No, her straight brown hair was parted in the middle almost accentuating her nose like a focal point right before she sipped her coffee and went back to reading.

Plain.

Curvy.

Not ugly…score!

And smart.

Yup.

She’d do nicely.

Well, hello, Mrs. Acton,he thought, smiling.That spot on the Wolverines is as good as mine!

2

KAREN

Sighing in sublime relaxation,Karen sipped on her coffee before distractedly turning the page in her newest addiction – sci-fi fantasy books from the seventies and eighties.

There was an amazing innocence yet intriguing and uplifting mentality to the books that hadn’t been tainted by the current events that would soon follow. Challenger’s explosion had put a certain shadow or skepticism that wasn’t there before in books, almost like the ‘What If’ moment hadn’t even dawned on the author.

And she loved it.

There was something so satisfying in the easy escape that these books provided and…

Karen paused.

Something prickled the back of her consciousness like someone was staring at her. She looked up just in time to see someone move out of her line of sight. Shrugging, she went back to reading. Maybe they were just looking to see if the seat was empty?

“Nope,” she whispered softly to herself. “Distinctly taken for the next few hours.”

Today, she was off of work, had just gotten paid, and was excited to have the afternoon to herself for something that didn’t tax her brain.

Oh yes, this was easy to absorb, unlike studying the hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt for several weeks to see if she could crack the code or understand what was being inscribed on the walls and obelisks. Newsflash – she couldn’t, which was why she was delving into this. A huge letdown after months of studying and admitting the truth: she couldn’t decipher the stuff. That awareness combined with a four-pack of wine coolers, a box of tissues, and a two-hour binge-watching Stargate while screaming at the television just how wrong the movie was – had led to this.

Giving up.

She wanted to travel to the pyramids, to see with her own eyes and comprehend the echoes of the past like some egotistical brainiac, whereas the truth was much harder to swallow. A broke librarian was never going to Egypt – and would never chance upon her Antony. She was never going to speak fluent Gaelic on some craggy moors like inOutlander. There was no Spanish count looking for his Contessa, no Portuguese prince searching for her, and no suave Frenchman looking woo her, whispering ‘voulez vous coucher avec moi?’in some secluded glade…

“Um… hey?”

A voice interrupted her thoughts, and Karen looked up – and her mouth dropped open – before snapping it shut. He had to be lost or asking when she was giving up her seat because there was no reason for a guy like him to be interrupting her.

“Yes?” she said simply, giving him a lofty look over the pages of her book. “Can I help you?”

And to her shock, he turned around slightly, reached about four or five feet away without moving, and snatched a small chair that wasn’t being used from another table.

The woman with glasses looked up in shock where the chair had once been, continuing up to the man, and had the same reaction Karen had as her lips parted and she shoved her glasses back up her nose, gawking. The man put the chair down beside Karen’s chair and took a sip of his coffee.

“Hi.”

“Again – may I help you?” she repeated in a hushed voice, staring at him in disbelief.

“I’m Jett,” he began easily, staring at her like he knew her. “What’s your name?”

“Do I know you?” she asked in confusion, pinching her eyebrows together as she tried to place how she knew this man. He was acting like he knew her; like they were about to have some deep conversation that was long overdue, but she was pretty sure she’d never met this guy.

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