Page 27 of Mister Hockey
The Settlers of Catan turned out to be anything but low-key. Grandma and Sam took their places at a small table in the library, the room lined with wall-to-ceiling bookshelves.
He couldn’t read a single title, or the directions that Granny handed him as Sam spoke fast about things like victory cards and hexes, robbers and tokens.
From another room, Breezy’s name was called again, this time heavy with intent. Gossip was clearly floating throughout the party, like dandelion fluffs on the breeze.
He suspected he was the source.
Shit. He ground his teeth. He’d wanted to spend more time with Breezy, be normal. But he was kidding himself. There was nothing normal happening here. The slow metronome of his heart began to pick up the tempo.
“I gotta pee,” Sam announced with the abruptness of a child.
“I’ve been waiting for it to be just you and me.” Granny leaned in and punched his arm. “Tell me a story.”
“A story?” Jed shifted on the plush chair. It was too soft. Hurt his back. “I’m not much of a reader.”
“You’re funny.” She paused to take a noisy sip from her frosty tumbler. “I like it.”
The beverage inside was lime colored and icy. His mouth was dry and his stomach felt as small and hard as a walnut.
“I’ve been trying checking up on you.” She swayed a little to the Bruce Springsteen piping in from the backyard. “There’s not a lot of juicy material out there.”
He nodded. “I’m pretty dry.”
“Your love life seems like it.” Her gaze was appraising. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“Guess I haven’t found the right one.” His parents’ marriage didn’t inspire wild fantasies. Unlike Breezy, he didn’t believe in fairy tales. Instead he believed in quiet, strained silences, the din of cable news television drowning out unhappiness.
“Hmm. And family? You see much of them?”
Despite the wrinkles, her eyes were sharp. This wasn’t befuddled questioning from an elderly woman. Hell no, this was an experienced bloodhound. There could be little doubt where Neve inherited her skills.
Jesus.
Talk about getting the third degree. He glanced to the hall and it was empty. Where was Sam? The kid must have a bladder like a camel. And Breezy was nowhere to be seen. It was like being alone with the Godfather.
Part of him suspected that this might not be an accident.
“I wasn’t asked in here to play a game, was I?”
Granny’s eyes widened even as they glinted. “Whatever do you mean?”
He leaned forward, clasped his hands and set them on the table. “Mrs. Angel—”
“Good lord, son, don’t call me that. Makes me think my mother-in-law is back from the dead and standing behind my shoulder.” She gave a visible twitch. “That woman was a dragon lady of the highest order, although I don’t like to speak ill of the dead. Now, please, Granny Dee. That’s what family and friends call me. And I’d like to think we could be friends.”
This wasn’t how he expected the day to go. Although again, what did he expect?
So might as well roll with it. He rubbed his temple. It wasn’t one of the headaches per se. More a twinge. An ache. Right where he’d been hit. His vision smearing continued without any sign of improving.
“I’m a straight shooter, Mrs... uh... Granny.” Despite his best effort, his voice was strained. “If you have something you want to say. Hit me.” He fought for a grin. “I’ve got experience in that department.”
“Don’t I know it. You’re not one of the flashy players, but you’re one hell of a workhorse. Good instincts, one of the best shot blockers in the league. But we can talk shop another time. Right now I want to know what a guy like you is doing with Breezy.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He bristled.
“You don’t think she’s a little... ordinary for the likes of you?”
The memory of her weight in his arms. Her kisses on his lips. The way she made him feel warm, anchored, actually in his body rather than floating along rose within him. That big hair and bigger smile.
