Page 4 of Offside and Off-Limits
And I’m onlyhalfscared to death.
CHAPTER 2
CADE
I makemy way across the hardwood floor of my new living room and come to a stop by the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the landscape.
And there’s alotof landscape in this new small town I’m calling home for the coming season. Which, if I’m honest, for a city guy like me, is a little unnerving.
Okay, it’s a lot unnerving.
I’m used to traffic and bars and people everywhere, living in the heart of Manhattan where I can get a pizzadelivered to my place on the forty-seventh floor at 3:00 a.m. and never worry about running into the same person twice.
Here in Maple Falls, trees outnumber the residents by about 5,000 to one.
I blow out a breath, staring out at some of those trees. It’s mid-September and they’re just beginning to turn, creating a palette of greens and reds and oranges. The sun is high in the sky, partly obscured by clouds, with darkness on the horizon.
Here comes that famous Washington state rain.
I've been in Maple Falls for less than twenty-four hours, and although it's the complete opposite of the frenetic buzz of where I used to live, the place sure does have a certain small-town charm to it, much like those Hallmark Christmas movies my mom loves to watch.
I spent my first night at a lodge, breakfasting at a quaint diner on Main Street, run by a woman who came out to introduce herself as Shirley May, her eyes twinkling as she accurately guessed I was one of the new hockey players in town.
I meandered down Main Street, checking out the old-fashioned buildings and feeling like I’d not only just flown from the other side of the country, but that I’d stepped back in time like Marty McFly—only without a DeLorean and a pair of low-top Nikes.
After my hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a stack of pancakes, I walked back to my black BMW SUV, and it seemed every eye on Main Street was trained on me. A couple of women threw me flirty smiles, and a boy of about eleven asked for a selfie with me. Of course I obliged. This is the kind of place where everyone is up in everyone else’s business. As my new home for at least this season, I want to fit in.
“Where do you want this?” a gruff voice says, pulling my attention from all those trees, and I turn to see five workers manhandling my prized baby grand piano. Sweat is pouring from their brows, and I’m thankful my prized Bösendorfer is all wrapped up nice in protective blankets and cardboard.
I’m kinda precious about my Bess.
And yeah, I did give her a name. Me and Bess are the longest relationship I’ve ever had.
After paying off my mom’s mortgage and putting a deposit on my own Manhattan place, Bess was the next thing I bought, thanks to the injection of cash signing with the NYC Blades brought.
We’ve been through a lot together. I couldn’t leave her behind in the city, not even for this one season with the Ice Breakers.
“Over there in the corner, thanks, guys,” I instruct them, pointing at an alcove by the fireplace. “Let me help.”
“It’s our job,” Ralph, the team leader says, but I join the guys anyway, the familiar stench of sweat hitting my nostrils as we position Bess just so.
“You play this thing?” Ralph pulls a cloth handkerchief from his overalls pocket and begins to mop his brow as the members of his crew begin to remove the cardboard outer layer.
“Sure do. My mom got me lessons when I was a kid. She figured it was good for me to have interests outside of hockey,” I reply, and a couple of the guys snicker, sharing knowing looks.
“Not including that,” I add with an internal groan, knowing exactly what they’re laughing at.
My reputation as a bad boy ladies’ man has clearly followed me over to the West Coast.
But the thing is, I’m not that guy anymore. In fact, I haven’t been that guy for well over a year now. Not that the media or even my teammates seem to have cottoned on to the fact yet. They still see me as the party guy, turning up with a woman on each arm and going home with another.
Don’t get me wrong, that lifestyle was fun.Morethan fun. What young guy, fresh out in the world after college, doesn't want beautiful and available women throwing themselves at him 24/7? And all just because he's good at playing hockey.
It's a giant ego boost, and one I was happy to entertain.
There were lots of girls, but over time, I worked out that theydidn’t want to be with me, the poor kid from New Jersey who grew up with a single mom who had to work double shifts at a diner and made tote bags to sell at weekend markets, just to make ends meet.
They didn’t want to knowthatguy.
