Page 63 of Offside and Off-Limits
I'm falling for Cade Lennox, and I think I'm ready to stop fighting it.
CHAPTER 14
CADE
What could be moresmall-town quaint than a farmers’ market on a Saturday morning, brimming with locals and delicious smells wafting in the air, the leaves of the surrounding trees lit up in red, gold, and orange? I wander past the stands selling everything from fresh produce to cured meats to waffles with maple syrup and cream. And yes, I’m sorely tempted to get one of those delicious smelling waffles, but Coach has the team on a strict diet, and last time I checked, waffles with maple syrup andcream weren’t on the list.
I do take a mental note to come back here once the season is done and buy the whole stand’s worth. Man, it smells good.
The barista at the coffee cart calls my name and I thank her as I collect the coffees I got for me and Clara before I head across the grass to the Drench for Defense tent.
“Well, hello, Cade Lennox,” says a petite woman over sixty, with short-cropped gray hair, and glasses.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I reply with a respectful nod of my head.
“Oh, forget calling me ma’am,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Mary-Ellen McCluskey. I’m Mabel’s mom and I live on the same street as you, right across from Clara and Ashlyn.” She puts her hand on my forearm. “Oh, my, what fine arms you have, Mr. Lennox.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McCluskey,” I reply because what else can I say?
“Are you doing the Soaked for Safety thing today? Or is it Buckets Against Bulldozers? Whatever it’s called, everyone’s talking about it, and I know quite a few of us locals who are excited to participate.”
“That’s great to hear.” I point at the banner across the grass that proclaims the event’s name. “It’s Drench for Defense. You see, it’s got a double meaning: defense in hockey and defending the town against the developers.”
“Oh, isn’t that clever? Who came up with that?”
I can’t stop my smile from forming. “I think it was Clara Johnson.”
“Clara? Oh, isn’t she a sweetheart? And we’re all so proud of her getting that new job of hers after everything she’s been through.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my chest tightening as I think of Clara last night. The way her eyes shimmered with tears over a simple gift. How badly I wanted to cup her face and kiss those tears away, telling her everything I've been holding back. That somewherebetween her eye rolls at my terrible jokes and watching her fierce protectiveness with her kids, I’m falling for her.
Last night, I'd planned to say it all. Had the words lined up like a perfect play call on the ice.
Then Hannah pirouetted into the room in her full sparkly glory, and the moment morphed into lasagna and piano practice and Clara herding her kids out the door.
And here’s the thing about kids—they commandeer every moment, turning what might have been intimate confessions into family sitcoms without missing a beat.
Most guys would find that inconvenient, but for me, it's exactly why I'm falling so hard for all three of them.
Mary-Ellen McCluskey leans closer to me, giving my arm a squeeze. “Did you know Clara Johnson’s got the GPS?”
I shoot her a confused look. “The GPS?”
She pulls her brows together. “Or is it the CBS? Yes, that’s it. She’s got the CBS.”
I bite back a smile. Clara isn’t a TV station or global positioning software. “Chronic fatigue. CFS. Yeah, I know.”
“I blame that ex-husband of hers. Dwayne Campbell. Horrible man. You know she changed her name back to her maiden name after he did what he did? I do not blame her one little bit. He ran off with her dear friend, Izzy, you know,andhe’s from Oregon.” She throws me a knowing look, and it’s not clear which is the worse crime in her book: running off with Clara’s friend or being from out of state.
“Well, it’s been nice to see you, Mrs. McCluskey. I need to get ready for my drenching now. Be sure to stop by and bid on one of the guys. Who knows, you might win the chance to throw a bucket of water over one of us.”
Her eyes are shining. “I’m volunteering for the event, so I’ll see you there.” She gives my arm a final squeeze before she lets go of me and I make my way toward the tent.
“Lennox! Over here!” a voice calls and I spot Asher grinning under the overhead banner that announces “Drench forDefense” in bold blue lettering, under which is the subheading that claims, “Drench Your Favorite Ice Breaker to Save Maple Falls.”
No one ever tells you when you make it onto the League that hockey can lead to a bunch of weird stuff.
But you know what? I believe in this town I now call home, and if getting a bucket of water thrown over me by the paying public is me playing my small part, then I say bring it on. This town has a life to it, a vibe I connect with, a slower pace of life that feels right to me at the grand old age of thirty-three. Even though the entire town could fit inside a handful of Manhattan blocks, it’s full of people who care about this place, people who will do anything to save their town from being redeveloped into Anytown.
