Page 16 of Pucker Up
Ethan stretched his arms over his head. “That is a weird name. I guess you just found the one woman in Toronto who is immune to good-looking pro athletes.”
“Yeah.” Harry ran his hand through his hair. “With a name like that, you probably dodged a bullet.”
“Well. It doesn’t matter. I even saved her damn dog from drowning and I still couldn’t get a second date. Maybe she’s married.”
“Or maybe she’s a figure skater.” Harry shrugged.
“Or maybe she’s smart.” Ethan gave me a sly grin.
That got to me. Unlike Gideon, I didn’t like to read nerdy books, or talk about philosophy, or whatever it is that smart people talk about. Somehow, Ethan touched the nerve that I’d hidden with my success, and it zapped me. I wasn’t smart enough for a girl like Goldie. I was, and always will be, just a dumb hockey player.
“Hey, Harry.” I got up.
“Yeah?” he turned. “I think that you forgot something.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
I picked up the bucket and tossed the ice-cold water at him. Drips ran down the wall behind him like a splatter pattern in a crime scene. “Got ya.” I laughed and pointed.
Gideon might be a better hockey player than me. He might be bigger, smarter, and richer. He was the kind of guy that a girl like Goldie would want. But I was the one making friends on the team. I was the one people liked. That had to stand for something, right?
FIVE
GOLDIE
When I leftfor work in the morning, it was pitch black outside. After a day of teaching, office hours, and time in the lab, it was dark again. I clicked through my emails, hoping that one would come in with an answer that was different from all the others. I only needed one yes. So far, every single request I’d sent to various sports teams around the city had come back a no.
I had the opposite problem to most of my colleagues: they had subjects, but needed the money. The streetcar whined across the city and for the entire ride home, I tried to find contacts for other teams. Maybe there was a coach in another city that would say yes. How far was Buffalo? Could I drive there to do research? Was I not thinking “outside the box”? Could I do this remotely? Was it really important to see my subjects in person?
It was.
Sighing, I clicked onto one of my favorite podcasts, Murderville, two women solving cold cases about people getting limbs chopped off and other gory details, just like every other twenty-five-year-old woman on the planet. The streetlampsflickered as I headed east. When we got close to my street, I tucked my earbuds into my pocket and put on my mittens.
A familiar silhouette outside on the sidewalk caught my eye. I pulled the cord on the streetcar and it slowed to let me out at the next stop. I bounded down the steps and jogged toward my dad and Morton.
“Goldie.” Dad seemed surprised. “I thought you’d be later. Morton told me he wanted to go for a walk in the snow.”
Hearing his name, Morton wagged his tail. I bent to give him a pat and then smacked my mittens together. Dog fur danced in the light between us. “Thanks, Dad.”
“We went all the way down the beach to the lifeguard stand.”
“Oh no. Did you let him off?” I pulled off my mitten and felt Morton’s fur, but other than the snowflakes slowly melting on his back, he wasn’t soaked.
Dad laughed. “No, I learned my lesson last time. There were no midnight skinny-dips for the Mortman.”
He handed the leash to me. “Here, you take him. I’ll carry your bag. It looks heavy.” My father didn’t wait for me to accept; he pulled the backpack off my shoulder and pretended to drop it to the ground. “What do you have in here? Rocks?”
As a kid, I’d collected rocks and my mom had bought me a tumbler to make them all shiny.
“Only a couple.” There was a piece of citrine in the zippered front pocket. Mom said that it would bring prosperity, and even though my scientist mind told me it was malarkey, I liked having it with me. It was pretty, so what was the harm in carrying it around?
Morton lumbered beside us as we walked down the side street. “You know I don’t like you taking public transportation at night.”
I checked my watch. “Dad, it’s six forty-five.”
“We have a double driveway with room for another vehicle. My offer to buy you a car still stands.”
“What about the environment?”
