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Hudson chuckles, a low and gravely sound that I feel low in my belly. “My little penguin.”
I almost crack up at the pet name and the teasing lift that plays on Hudson’s lips. That has to be the lamest, cheesiest pet name I’ve ever heard. So why does my stomach feel like it’s strapped into a roller coaster?
“You are not calling me that from now on.” That’s what I say, but do I really hate the idea?
Hudson just winks. “It’ll grow on you.”
Everyone around us who was just looking on starts moving again, and I realize that I’ll have to be on stage in just a couple minutes. “You’re staying for the performance?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Good luck out there.” And then he adds, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “My little penguin.”
I blow out a bemused laugh, shaking my head. What a stupid pet name. Why do I want to keep hearing it?
17
HUDSON
Salsa leaps into my arms as soon as I walk into Summer’s room.
“Hey, girl.” My smile beams down at her as she pats her paws excitedly against my chest. “You’re sure energetic these days.”
She’s come a hell of a long way since I first came across her in that dingy alley when she wouldn’t even let me pet her. A long way from that first week she stayed in my room, where she mostly kept to her own corner, now and then tentatively crawling onto my bed to nuzzle against my side as I lie down.
“She’s a big jumper now,” Summer says behind me. She told me to go up ahead of her while she was doing something in the kitchen. I turn around, Salsa still clinging to my chest, and see her holding a tray wrapped in tinfoil.
My mind floods with memories of her performance a couple days ago. Not just images of her on the stage, but the beautiful melodies that she made with her violin, too. I know the pianist was supposed to be the star of that piece, but Summer and her violin stole the show and ran away with it. She’s so talented it’s unreal.
After the performance, I had to see her backstage again. I walked right up to her, planted my palms on her sides, and pressed a kiss to her forehead before telling her how amazing she was on stage.
The thing that should bother me? I didn’t do it for show. It wasn’t calculated at all. Having her friends and acquaintances see it so they’d talk about it and word would spread to Sean? The thought didn’t even flutter across my mind. It was totally instinctual. I did it because I wanted to.
“What’s with the tray?” I ask. “Something for Salsa?”
“Nope,” Summer replies chipperly. “Something for a much grumpier animal.” She flashes me a grin, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make my heart twinge.
“Believe it or not, Salsa used to be even grumpier than me.”
“I’ll go with the not on that one.”
“Seriously,” I reply, looking down at the cat and nuzzling the nape of her neck. “She was an ornery beast.”
Summer gasps. “Do not call Salsa ornery! Or a beast. She’s a perfect sweetheart.”
“After she started living here, maybe.”
“Living with two cleanly girls is better for a cat than living with five hockey player slobs in what’s practically a frat house? Who could’ve guessed.”
This place probably is better for Salsa than the team house. More and more I’m thinking I’m going to just move out and get a place of my own that allows cats. I’m sure that’ll be a good environment for her.
“So it’s for me then?” I ask, getting back to what’s in Summer’s hands.
She peels off the tinfoil to reveal a tray of chocolate cupcakes with a kaleidoscope of different colored frosting. “A snack.”
“I …”
Summer pointedly cuts me off after the first syllable. “Do not say you can’t. We went over this.”
A defeated sigh slides out of my mouth. “Fine. But if my conditioning goes to shit and my goalie prospects tank, I’m holding you responsible.”
