SEVEN
Jake
Sweetkiss Creek is quiet this morning. I like sneaking in a run as often as I can, but I love doing it first thing in the day, and if I can do it when the rest of the world is either just waking up or maybe slowly realizing it’s time to get up, even better.
Riley’s dad had to leave to open the cafe early this morning, so I hitched a ride and had him drop me off at a campground just outside of town so I could make my way in. He’s a man of many facets, and cars. Today, he came in his Prius, but I can’t lie I was hoping he’d fire up the ‘63 Mustang. Maybe another day.
Starting my day jogging beside a lake sounded like something I could use right now to clear my head. There was one thing, or one person, who keeps hanging out rent-free in my thoughts, and if I’m honest with myself, I don’t mind it. Not one bit.
From the moment she jumped into the back of my car and scared the crap outta me, I’ve been pretty intrigued by this woman. Travis has told me about his little sister, who his dad adores but apparently makes her mom crazy. I have friends with kids who would attest to the fact that it’s a mother-and-daughter thing. I wonder what Riley would say it was?
The morning air has a chill, but there’s warmth in the sunshine today. I never thought that beginning this year with my new team I’d be ending it trying to go back to my old one, and pretty much in the doghouse with a handful of people I respect with all of my heart. I’d made the jump from the River City Renegades to be seen—I had a chance to get on a team with several other players who it’s been rumored are on their way to the NHL.
When I was asked to join them, I saw an opportunity. In my mind, I could get on that team and not only make a bigger name for myself there, but as other players climbed out of AHL status and moved up to the next league, I wanted to at least replace them if I wasn’t going with them. Everything I heard about the team sounded like it would be a good move. One I could make smoothly and easily, a path with the least resistance.
Only it wasn’t. Concentrating on my feet as they land on the ground, crunching the rock on the gravel path, I’m reminded of the not-so-welcome welcome I was given when I arrived. I was barely acknowledged, not that I needed to always be, but I was new. You would think that being a team, the dynamics would be different. Well, they were, but it was that they were different from the team I had chosen to leave. The captain of the team, known in the press for being a bit of a narcissistic butthole but also loved because he’s a really amazing player (things I’ll never understand about the human psyche), tried to fight me on the ice that first day.
I’m not the kind of guy who stands down from anything, but I do try to stay away from trouble. My dad taught me better than that. I’m also big, so why get into a fight with anyone? But when you’ve got someone your size or even bigger slamming into you on purpose over and over, and in your first practice, you begin to think it’s more than a simple hazing.
The team I’d come from? The best. The Renegades are like, the most supportive group ever. Our coach, a family man who always had his kids around helping out. The players made sure that if anyone came into our house and was new to the team, no matter if they were on the ice with us, worked in the arena, or in the offices, they felt like family. It was a family, a great big wonderful one that stuck together, even hanging out on holidays, and I had to go and split it up.
I slow down to check my time only to find a news alert has popped up on my phone. Not to sound narcissistic myself, but due to this reporter who’s trying to tear me down, I’d set up an alert on my name. And it looks like she’s at it again.
“Jake December’s career in limbo.” I take a calming breath in through my nose and breathe it all out through my mouth slowly, taking a second to bend over and touch my toes, hanging there limp and swaying. “Why, Greta. Why are you doing this to me?”
“Ummm,” a voice says slowly, laughing, “are you aware there’s no one named Greta around?”
Standing up straight, my heart slams in my chest when I look into the eyes of a giggling Riley. She’s got her hair pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck and is wearing a trucker hat with the Renegades logo on it. I don’t think she has a trace of makeup on, yet she’s glowing, which can be a feat at this time of morning for anyone. Superheroes included.
To put it in normal dude speak, she looks hot. I’d go so far as to say she’s on fire. And it’s not even eight in the morning.
“Hey,” I manage, trying to hide the nervous stutter that threatens. It’s an old anxiety trait I’ve had to work on over the years.
Riley eyes me with a mischievous grin. “So, Greta. Is she someone worth noting?”
“No.” I hold up a hand to stop her from saying anything more, and her eyes widen. “Sorry, I think I said that with a little more aggression than I meant to.”
“Hey. No problem here.” Riley holds up a hand, waving it in the air as if she’s wiping the moment away. “I shouldn’t have been nosy.”
We’re standing at the edge of Lake Lorelei in a small park with a promenade that links to the main street in town. The edges of the small park are lined with garden beds bursting with colorful flowers like phlox, tulips, irises, and daffodils. A few park benches and picnic tables are scattered about, partly filled by people sipping on their coffees and playing games of chess or checkers.
There’s also an old fountain in the middle of the green space, right behind Riley, and on the other side of that is a coffee cart that’s set up and open for the morning crowd. The ambient noise of water as it rolls onto the lakeshore is calming.
Inclining my head toward the cart, I lock my eyes with hers. “Were you doing another delivery?”
“Oh, you bet I was.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder to the cart. “Three days a week I’m down here, dropping off their order. I usually go for a run afterward.”
“Ah.” I feel like I’m being cued to something, so I step back. “Don’t let me keep you.”
“Actually,” she says as she looks around, “I woke up on the back foot this morning. Is that even a saying?”
“It is, but I think it’s meant that you’d be defensive. Like, in a less than advantageous position compared to someone you’re opposing.” When I see the look on her face, I crack a smile. “I’m a bit of a nerd. When I was in college, I took a class in linguistics and did a study on idioms.”
I can tell she’s biting back her laughter. Her lips aren’t moving, but her eyes give it away.
“That’s unexpected.”
“I pride myself on being full of surprises.”
