Page 8 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
With a shrug, we claim a couple of stools near the wall. Ryan tosses a couple coasters in front of us. “Fancy seeing you two here. Slumming it, huh?”
Connor punches my shoulder. “Pretty boy over here’s gotta keep himself outta trouble.”
Ryan’s face turns serious, and he shakes his head slowly. “I won’t play that asshole’s bullshit show in here anymore. Not after that farce of an interview he did with you.”
I duck my head and mumble, “Thanks. ‘Preciate it.”
Ryan scoffs, propping his arms on the bar. “It’s the absolute least I can do. We don’t hold with people slandering our team around here. We all know you enjoy having a good time, but you takeyour job seriously. Anyone who believes otherwise isn’t welcome here either.” He blows out a breath and shakes his head one more time. “What can I get you boys? It’s on the house tonight.”
Connor perks up in his stool. “Oh, yeah?” He smacks my arm with the back of his hand. “You’ll have to get yourself slandered more often if it means we get free drinks.”
Pointing a finger at him, Ryan shakes his head. “Careful. You start getting your teammates treated like our boy Bouchard over here, and I’ll cut you off too. Don’t think I won’t!”
Connor holds up his hands in surrender, laughing. “I’d never! I’m just saying, we might as well take advantage of any perks that happen to come our way, though.”
Rolling his eyes, Ryan turns back to me. “What can I get you?”
We place our drink orders—an IPA on tap for me and a Sam Adams for Connor. They stock it in bottles just for him, basically. He’s a Boston boy, born and bred, and he brings it up pretty often. I see him drink plenty of other beers, but if we’re here, it’s a Sam Adams every time. Ryan gets our drinks for us right away. I lapse into silence, not really paying attention to what’s going on around me while Connor chats with Ryan and whoever else he can con into talking to him. I ignore them until Connor bumps into my arm, nodding at Ryan who’s apparently been trying to discreetly get my attention.
He’s helping someone near the other end of the bar, and at first I don’t get what the big deal is, but then it clicks.
It’s Maggie.
And she’s alone.
“Do you know that chick?” Connor asks, leaning over and pitching his voice low.
My mouth inexplicably dry, I nod.
This is a sports bar. A hockey player hangout. What’s Maggie doing here?
Obviously she knows about it because I met her here a few weeks ago, but what made her decide to come back?
Is she hoping to see me again?
I scoff internally as soon as the thought enters my mind. She might’ve felt bad for me after her boss released that train wreck he called an interview, but I know she didn’t feel any kind of spark between us even if I wasn’t joking when I asked for her number.
“We’ve met, yeah,” I mutter to Connor, wondering what Ryan is expecting from me.
Just then, she turns her head my way. I hold my breath as her eyes pass over Connor and me without really noticing either of us.
Then she does a double take. And I know she recognizes me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Maggie
I don’t knowwhat I was thinking when I decided to come back here.
Well, no, that’s not true. I do know. I was thinking that I have a night off for the first time in a month. It’s random and on a Tuesday, but this is when Kyle said he could take Liam overnight. Just the one night, of course, even though he’s supposed to have him for a week at a time. That was his justification for not paying more child support, after all.
I sigh at the thought that I’m definitely going to have to take him back to court to get that adjusted. I’ve been putting it off even as I’ve been tracking how many actual days he spends with Liam each month. It fluctuates wildly, but the average is far below his insisted-upon fifty percent.
A night off in the middle of the week—or anytime, really—seemed to call for something besides staying home and catching up on chores or work. So I put on a cute top with my shorts and sandals instead of my usual T-shirt and decided to come backto The Salty Salmon. It was the first place that popped into my head, it has a good vibe, and it just seemed like the place to go.
And while Jack Bouchard is the one who introduced me to the place, it didn’t seem like the kind of spot he’d frequent. While I know that Brock’s editing was … creative, all of the stills and clips he used of Bouchard out partying were real, and none of them were here. I guess I just figured he saw this place as more of a business meeting type venue, not a place to come hang out and blow off steam. Not when he usually blows off steam in far more flashy and noteworthy ways—those videos and images Brock sourced came from somewhere, after all.
But there he is. Sitting at the opposite end of the bar with another guy I recognize as a hockey player but whose name I can’t remember right now. Staring at me.
