Page 112 of Beauty
“What’s so unnatural about it?” Ernie asks, his tone and expression earnest, caring.
Every person at the table, including Ollie, looks at me with genuine interest and concern.
As I look from face to face, I find that being honest with them doesn’t feel so scary. “I don’t know hockey,” I admit. I set my cup down and lay my hands flat on the table. “Like, at all.”
Noah tilts his head, studying me. “But your brothers have played their entire lives.”
I shrug. “And while they did that, I was doodling designs. I didn’t think I needed to know any of the terms or how the business was run. I was focused on my own thing.” What I don’t say is how I hate not being successful at something, that the frustration has only made the transition more difficult. It’s better if I stay focused on the job rather than on how I feel.
As if he can hear that thought turning over in my mind, Noah gives me a gentle nod.
“Your brothers knew that when they hired you, didn’t they?” Ernie prods.
I hum. “My brothers are great. And they hired me for my business acumen, not my knowledge of the sport. But the GM, Ezra Bardot…” His name leaves a bad taste in my mouth, so I pick up my water and take a small sip. “Ezra,” I continue, “doesn’t believe I have what it takes to run the organization.”
“Ah.” Ernie lifts his chin. “So he’s a real pri—” He darts a look at Ollie and winces. “He’s a jerk.”
Ollie nods. “I don’t like him.”
Noah squeezes his son’s shoulder.
“So you need to brush up on your hockey knowledge so you can prove to him you belong,” Bert says evenly, like it makes all the sense in the world.
I blow out a breath. “I’m trying. I go to all the games. I’m studying the players’ files”—though I’ve avoided Noah’s thus far—“and I’m trying to find ways to use what I know about business to help the organization.”
“Noah can help you,” Ernie offers.
Ollie nods. “Yeah, Dad can help. He knows hockey better than anyone.”
Noah grins down at his son, his eyes shining with pride. “Thanks, bud. I wouldn’t go that far, though.”
His little guy blinks up at him. “But you’ll help her, right, Dad?”
The gorgeous man across the table looks at me, his lips tipped up on one side. “Of course. I can teach SiennaeverythingI know.”
THIRTY-SIX
NOAH
Bedtime is always an event.My kid has so much to say. Tonight, the conversation went on for a solid hour. The topic: how amazing Sienna is.
I listened patiently, but with every new detail he raved about, all I could think was,Yeah, I feel the same.
He wants to know if we can spend more time with her, if I think she likes Dungeons and Dragons like us, andStar Wars. He hopes she likes to try new recipes like we do and begs me to invite her to come with us to Montana this summer.
Once again, our thoughts are aligned. But I don’t want to get my kid’s hopes up, so I answer with a vagueWe’ll see, buddy.
Knowing my kid loves her only solidifies my plan. I’ve got to find a way to convince Sienna to give us a real shot. To understand that her last name doesn’t scare me. Though I hope it doesn’t come to it, if I’m forced to choose between her and her brothers, Sienna wins, hands down. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
As I’m rinsing my toothbrush, my phone lights up on the counter. And when her name appears on the screen, a shot offucking elation zips through me. For the second time this week, she’s reaching out. It’s another step in the right direction.
Sienna: Can you come to the door?
Grinning, I type out a quickyes. Then I hustle toward the door, and without pausing to check the peephole, I throw it open.
In a pair of white linen pajamas, with her hair up in a high ponytail, she stands at my door, face flushed. At the sight of her, my heart takes off at a gallop. Without fail, when I look into those green eyes of hers, my pulse races. She owns me.
“Did you mean it?” Her voice is quiet, her question direct.
