Page 46 of The Parent Playbook
I sip the hot brew, Harlow’s news suddenly makes me feel more awake. “In Maple Falls, you’d be surprised. So, what’s his name, and when do I get to meet this platonic paragon?”
“Teddy,” she answers, a flush creeping up her neck. “And we’re keeping this trip low-key.”
“Low-key or under wraps?” I tease, because I love how easy it’s always been with Harlow, especially when she’s pretending she’s not flustered.
Harlow glares, but I’ve known her long enough to know she’s only playing. “Speaking of under wraps, how about you, Miss Hermit? Seen any action on the romantic front lately, or are you still guarding that heart like Fort Knox?”
I’m not prepared for the direct question, and Scotty’s smile flashes through my mind—the way his eyes crinkled when he laughs at his own dad jokes, his hands steady and sure when he caught me from falling. And how I was a little unfair about everything that happened with the kids. I shove the thoughts aside.
“Me? Oh, you know, drowning in a sea of eligible bachelors,” I deadpan, avoiding her probing gaze. “The wild nights I have with my livestock really set the bar too high.”
Harlow snorts, sipping her coffee. “Sure, and I’m the Queenof England. Come on, Angel. It’s me. And I’ve heard that Andy and one of the kids from the team have been spending a lot of time?—”
“Harlow,” I cut in, a warning note in my tone, but she just raises her eyebrows, daring me to confess.
We sit down at the kitchen table, the morning light casting yellow-orange around us.
“Okay, fine.” I take an extra-long sip of coffee for courage. “There might be someone, but there’s nothing to tell. I’ve got these weirdfeelingsand nothing concrete. And it’s complicated. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s not like anything’shappened.” Holding hands doesn’t count, nor do joyful embraces that the kids walk in on.
“But youwantsomething to happen?” Harlow’s voice is gentle, and I wish she were teasing me instead of making me feel like there could actually be something between Scotty and me.
“I don’t know. It’s possible. He’s a different kind of dude. He’s present, he’s real, seems to be a great dad, and he stayed up all night helping me fix the barn.”
“Sounds like there’s more happening thancomplicated,” Harlow teases, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Sounds like it’s worth exploring.”
I make a noise that resembles a groan mixed with a gag. “You know how I am withfeelings.But who knows? Now, tell me more about this escape you’re on.”
As Harlow talks, this vision of Scotty kneeling beside me in the barn comes floating up. Those strong arms around me. His silly but sweet sense of humor, and what about the whole red sock-green sock thing? Is he colorblind or is that his own fashion sense?
We have a nice visit and as she leaves, Harlow gives me a big hug. “I’ll see you around, Angel. And hey, give this guy a chance. Some of thesehockey dudes,” she air-quotes, “are really good guys.”
As the sun drags itself across the sky like it’s too early foreven itself, I wrestle with a paintbrush and the never-ending list of DIY projects. Harlow’s visit has left a weird brew of nostalgia and possibilities swirling inside me.
But sentiment doesn’t paint fences, so I throw myself back into work with a vengeance. Until Troy shows up.
“Top of the mornin’!” Despite being brothers, Troy and Zach don’t have much in common, but that confident stride is one of them. Seeing him now is like watching a celebrity drop by for coffee—pleasant, but perplexing.
“What brings you to my chaos circus?” I ask as he approaches, squinting a little because Troy turning up unannounced usually means he’s up to something.
He grins, that all-too-familiar smirk that tells me he’s not here for a casual visit. “I come bearing gifts,” he announces, producing a pair of shiny tickets from his jacket. “Rink-side seats for tonight’s game. Thought you might want to scope out the bench, get a good look at the coaches in action.”
I roll my eyes, snatching the tickets to inspect them. “Like any of that matters to me. You could’ve stuck me in the nose bleeds for all I know about hockey and its coaches.”
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” Troy’s eyes crinkle at the edges.
“I doth not protest enough,” I shoot back, waving the tickets in his face. “You enjoy stirring the pot, don’t you?”
He pats my shoulder. “Just promise me you’ll be there. It’s a big night, Ange. And by the way, that donation that came through? Courtesy of a luxury hotel in Colorado.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Even has a dog spa.”
My head snaps up. “Wait,thatdonation?” The pieces click into place, a little too neatly. Scotty’s former stomping grounds funding my future plans. “You’re telling me Scotty was behind it?”
Troy’s only response is a knowing wink. “I suspect he pulled some strings. See? Not just a pretty face behind that bench.”
I smack him on the shoulder, which makes him giggle like a kid.
He turns to leave, his mission apparently accomplished. As his truck kicks up dust down the driveway, I’m left holding the tickets. That Scotty might have had something to do with it is unnervingly sweet.
“Dog spa, huh?” I mutter to myself, tucking the tickets into my pocket. I shake my head as Edgar struts past the porch. “I wonder if they do goats.”
