Page 48 of Pickled
We watched the replay at least three times before Goldie slipped back into her seat, her hands held in front of her stomach. “It’s not that.” She sighed. “Both of those guys have had concussions—they know better. Gideon especially.”
I didn’t know Gideon well, but there were two things Ididknow: one, the obvious, he was serious about hockey. He told me he wouldn’t go easy on Ace, and it turned out he was a man of his word. The second thing I knew was that he loved his brother,so watching those two things collide, like actually hit each other, several feet below me, was jarring.
“Why are they still playing?” I asked. I realized that the concussion detail was one of the many things I still didn’t know about the taller, darker Bailey brother.
Goldie sipped her beer, which had to be warm at this point. “They were both cleared. Although it’s my personal opinion”—she placed her hand on her freckled chest—“that Gideon needed further assessment. He’s older than Ace, and back then, the hits he took were often brushed off.”
The players returned to the bench, and the frenetic energy of the stadium had started to settle down. My eyes had been glued to number seventeen the entire time. It was so much better up in the private box. Next to the ice, could I have studied every move Gideon made? Unlikely, unless I wanted to look like a crazy stalker. Up here, in the comfort of the private box, complete with several TVs, complimentary caviar, and apparently a Tigers superfan, Judy, I could keep my eyes glued on Gideon.
The cameraman zoomed in on Gideon. He rested his elbows on his knees, and his cheeks were flushed. He was excited; I knew this because they looked the exact same as when I’d gone down on him by the pool. My heart pounded, watching him. He was in his element, and it was so hot watching his every move. His dark eyelashes batted shut as he tilted his head back to take a drink. My cheeks burned. Why was I making everything sexual? When that man came, he leaned his head back like that, exposing his muscular throat as he moaned out my name.
Look at the camera. I tried to will the man to look at the lens, wanting to see his eyes. They sparkled when he smiled, and at that moment, there was a huge grin plastered across his face. Heobviously didn’t feel too bad about leveling his brother to get the goal.
Judy swirled her champagne. She’d switched from the draft beer to the better bubbly, as she called it, when we were presented with a bottle of Veuve in the box. My beer sat flat and warm in the holder next to me once I realized that it was going to be me behind the wheel of the Ferrari after the game. “He’s fine. They’re both fine. It’s a part of the game. Back in the day, I used to go to the game after my shift at the restaurant. Now, those guys, they were tough. No helmets.”
“You worked at a restaurant?” I asked. This was the first I’d heard of Judith’s life, pre-Keith.
“It was a diner, actually. They made us wear tight uniforms, and that’s where I learned how to deal with men. I had just moved to the city from my small town—that made me a little naïve, but blue-collar tough.”
Goldie raised her eyebrows.
“That explains the beer,” I mused. Judy snapped her head to look at me, and I stiffened. In all of the drama of the evening, I’d tried my best not to forget that Judith was my boss. But her eyes softened. “Beer is better than coffee.” She grinned, her eyes tracking to the ice surface, but nothing was happening down below. Her voice took on a faraway tone. “My first boyfriend played for Boston, and he definitely had a few screws loose in the noggin.” She knocked on her platinum strands, her ring glinting in the stadium lights.
This time, I met Goldie’s eyes. They were a bright blue and, from behind her cat-eye glasses, looked enormous. I wondered if Goldie was going to call her out, tell her that it wasn’tappropriate to comment on screws, loose or otherwise, but she didn’t. “You dated a Boston player? Who? That was my dad’s favorite team, and I know a lot of the players.”
Judy chuckled. “There’s a reason I’m not a Boston fan anymore, and it has a lot to do with Clayton Flint.”
“Flint?” Goldie looked amused. “He was a great player. My dad has a photo of him in his man-cave.”
Judith crossed her arms. “He was great at hockey, but he was even better in the bedroom.”
Goldie coughed, choking on her beer. I thought that Judith was going to say something bad about Mr. Flint. I wasn’t wrong; I only had to wait a second. “Too good. As a matter of fact, he was a terrible boyfriend.”
How many years had passed since Judy dated Flint? There was still a bite in her voice. I was still trying to process the fact that my millionaire boss, who golfed with the wives of some of the richest men in the country, used to be a waitress in Boston and had dated an NHL player. “Back then, it was acceptable for the players to have one or two girls on the side.” Judy sipped her champagne.
“Well, the players wear helmets now, but the puck bunny on the side thing hasn’t changed,” Goldie said.
The game was back on, and Goldie returned her focus to the ice, her eyes glued to the action down below. “There are a few good ones, but a lot of the guys are still kids.”
Chalk up another reason why I shouldn’t be with Gideon Bailey. I hadn’t even thought about competing bunnies hopping all over him the second the game was done. My concerns had beenwrapped up in so many of the other reasons that we couldn’t be together, my daughter being the biggest one. There was also the tiny white lie that had grown into a giant one: I wasn’t his next-door neighbor; I was the next-door neighbor’s maid. If we were able to get past those two obstacles, bunnies were just one more obstacle that could be in our way. Dating a professional athlete wasn’t easy. If Gideon and I could wave a magic wand and become an instant family, I would still have to worry about him being away on the road. My eyes tracked across the crowd, clocking all of the beautiful women who seemed as invested in the action as Goldie.
As though she could sense my thoughts, Goldie tore her gaze from Ace to look at me. “Not Gideon. He’s a good man. Actually, underneath that granite exterior of his, he’s one of the softest and most loyal men I’ve ever met.”
Judy grabbed Goldie’s hand. “And this girl here is the kindest, most hardworking woman I know.”
Goldie’s forehead knitted, and she looked from Judith to me. “Exactly how do you two know each other?”
It was a valid question. Judy, in her head-to-toe orange and six figures’ worth of diamonds, and me, rumpled hair and a Bailey jersey that hung to my knees, were definitely an odd couple. Was this where the shoe dropped? Would Gideon find out the secret I’d kept from him from his sister-in-law?
“Piper is a friend of the family,” Judy responded before I could do it. “I’ve known her for years. If that boy down there is as good as you say he is, he might be almost good enough for our Piper.”
A lump formed in my throat. Was this how Judith, Judy, saw me? A friend?
“Trust me.” Goldie smiled. “When Gideon Bailey dedicates himself to something or someone, nothing will tear him away. And I don’t want to be a meddling sister-in-law, but I’ve never seen him smile about anyone or anything the same way he does when he talks about you, Piper.”
My cheeks burned. Gideon had talked about me. What did he say? How he felt about me? “We’ve only just met. I helped him rescue a cat.” I tried to quiet the questions screaming in my mind.
Goldie grinned. “That, my friend, told me all I need to know. Gideon is not a cat person, and now he heats up wet food in the microwave for that little kitty.”
