Page 33 of Pickled
“See that hole in the ground filled with water? I usually just jump in there.”
“Good call.” Ace leaped to his feet, took off his shirt, and did a front flip into the pool. Both Goldie and CC hopped back to avoid the splash. “Come on, babe, hop in.” Ace tried to splash Goldie, but she scooped CC into her arms and stepped out of the danger zone.
She stroked the top of the cat’s head. “I’m not finished cuddling this guy yet.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” Ace got out of the pool and kissed Goldie on the cheek. “You know I’m not a cat guy.”
Goldie rubbed CC’s ears between her fingers and set him on the ground. He bounded to me and wound between my legs, purring loudly as he rubbed his face on my ankles.
“That’s what I said too.” I picked up CC and took a seat next to Goldie. “I hate cats, but I like this one.”
“One day, we will live in the country and have a whole pack of Mortons and maybe a few cats?” Goldie took a sip of her sparkling water.
“In the barn,” Ace said. He turned his attention to me. “Do you remember that gray barn cat we had that was missing an ear?”
“Vannie.” I smiled. “He was a tough old guy. Great mouser.”
“As in Van Gogh?” Goldie asked.
“Most people don’t pick up on that.” Goldie was smart. She had a master’s degree and for some reason was still interested in my dumbass brother. It was a phenomenon I chalked up to yin and yang.
I passed CC to Goldie and grabbed a sparkling water from the bar fridge for myself.
“What?” Ace twisted off the cap of his beer. “That’s why his name was Vannie? I thought it was because we found him in that rusted-out Volkswagen in the field.”
“Case in point,” I laughed.
Ace pretended to be offended and flicked his bottle cap at me. It deflected off my forearm into the flower garden. “Better watchwhat you start, little brother.” I rubbed the slightly red spot on my arm.
Ace gulped down his beer and grabbed another from the fridge. He held up two bottles. “Beer?”
Both Goldie and I shook our heads. “I’m good,” I said. Condensation pooled on the table beneath my can of water. “I’m done for the day. We have a game tomorrow, remember?”
Ace laughed. “I could drink a suitcase of these, have a hangover from hell, and still outskate you—and that left winger, what’s his name?” Ace snapped his fingers.
“Mitch Jameson.”
“That’s it.” He pointed at me. “What’s he like? He seems like kind of a d-bag.”
“He’s a strong player.” My desire to defend Jameson was strong; the camaraderie plan must have been working. “He’s also a really good dude. Dedicated to the game and his wife.”
“I hate him already.” Ace stretched his arms over his head and let one drop over Goldie’s shoulder. “I can see why you like him though. He sounds as dull as pond hockey skates.”
Goldie elbowed Ace. “Enough hockey talk. Gideon. You look great. You’ve got a beautiful house. You live in a place where you can drive with the top down year-round and have the cutest roommate ever.” I had the feeling I knew where the conversation was going. “Now…” Her eyes sparkled. “Tell us about the girl.”
I was right.
Sighing, I wiped the condensation off my can with my thumb. “She’s smart, beautiful, and likes the same books that I do. She’severything I would look for in a woman,ifI was looking for one. But, it’s… complicated.”
“Complicated?” Goldie’s brow knitted, her eyes boring into me. That look was unnerving. My sister-in-law has an uncanny knack for knowing things that she shouldn’t know, and I wasn’t ready for her to “read” me. “What do you mean?”
“I can tell you.” A wry smile cut across Ace’s face as he rubbed Goldie’s freckled shoulder. “You met some smart, nerdy girl—”
“Hey.” Goldie smacked his hand. “What’s wrong with that?”
Ace planted a kiss on Goldie’s cheek. “Nothing, but this girl scared you. Let me guess. You gave her the old ‘I’m going to focus on hockey’ speech.”
“Iamfocused on hockey.” He was spot-on. Had Goldie’s intuition rubbed off on my brother? “So what if I told her that I have to focus on my game? It doesn’t matter.” I held up my finger. “She’s not looking for anything either.”
