Page 56 of Puck Love

After a breakfast of waffles—withmaple syrup, of course—we spend the day watching hockey highlights in Van’s bed, and by the time he’s ready to get up, I think I have a fairly good grasp on the game. When the lying around becomes too much for his shoulder, we move downstairs. I sing a bunch of half-assed songs and work on the riff for one of the tunes I’ve been writing since I firstarrived.

Before long, Van falls asleep on the couch, and I decide to let him rest so I set the guitar down and wander around the empty house. I put some water on to boil noodles for lunch, and head outside for a breath of fresh air. It’s still freezing out, but it’s cleansing, and I walk around the property, though I’m careful not to stray too far from the house. I’ve had enough run-ins with the Canadian wilderness these past few weeks to last me a lifetime. I’m about to head back when something dark brown and fluffy skitters from the tree line and darts underneath the porch. I stop in my tracks.What the hell wasthat?

The shrill cry of the smoke alarm goes off inside the house, and I gasp and run toward it, only I get taken out by the same furry little animal that ran across my line of sight just a few seconds ago. I trip and land on my ass on the snow-covered ground, and then the furry devil catapults herself onto my chest, making this high-pitched war cry halfway between a wail and a squeal. I scream too, and the two of us stay there on the cold ground, teeth bared and screaming at one another while Van’s smoke alarm shuts off. A few beats later and Van is outside, dressed only in a Henley and a pair ofsweats.

“Stella?” He’s only mildly panicked, until I guess, he sees me accosted by a damn mongoose. “Ohshit.”

The fur ball hisses at me once more and jumps off my chest. She barrels toward Van, which I think is a very bad thing because if he falls, his shoulder will be screwed. I scramble to my feet and watch on in horror, screaming, “Get away from him, youbitch.”

Only I don’t sound a thing like Sigourney Weaver, and the little rodent isn’t deterred. She leaps toward him, and Van catches her in his arms. He sucks in a sharp breath, winces, as if it hurt, but instead of biting his face off or ripping into his jugular, the thing preens and pushes her nose against his cheek, making these ridiculously cute high-pitchedsqueals.

“What the hell isthat?”

He laughs. “That’s anotter.”

“Why the hell is an otter chewing on yourface?”

“Because Sigi too loves to show up at Lodge Ross unexpectedly and demandcuddles.”

I screw my nose up in distaste. “You have a rodent and you named herSigi?”

“She’s not a rodent. And she’s not really ours. I found her as a pup the first year I moved out here. Emmett and I reared her and released her back into the wild once winter was over and she was old enough to fend for herself. We were told she wouldn’t survive, but she did. She’s come back every yearsince.”

There’s an awful lot of high-pitched happy squeals coming from Sigi now, and I try not to be jealous of the rodent that’s encroaching on my hockey-hero time. “She tried to eat myface.”

“Oh, come on. She’s just a little jealous, that’sall.”

“WhySigi?”

He smiles. “She’s my significantotter.”

“Wow. You Canadians are so not funny,huh?”

“Hey, it was that or Stella. Be thankful Emmett drew the shortstraw.”

I shudder. “That thing is nothing likeme.”

“Oh, I don’t know. She’s as bitchy as you are before food.” He smooches up to Sigi’s face.Hey, no fair. “You wanna tell me what you're doing out here while you’re burning a pot on mystove?”

“Shit . . . sorry. I got distracted. I just wanted some freshair.”

“It’s okay. I put the fire outmyself.”

I gasp in wide-eyed horror. “There was afire?”

“No, but you should see yourface.”

I give him a wry smile. “Screw you,Ross.”

“Give me five minutes to warm up first, eh? I’m freezing my nuts off out here,” he says, heading toward the house with Sigi riding shotgun on his uninjuredshoulder.

“Then it’s a good thing Sigi isn’t a squirrel.” I follow them into the house, annoyed, and a little bitter that I’m no longer the only guest staying at LodgeRoss.

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