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“It’s not. She might not even come. It’s just an old friend from home.”
“The old friend you mentioned when we spoke the other night? Your high school wet dream?”
Leave it to Rock to make it sound dirty. “Um. Yeah, her.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. See you there.”
I hung up and stared at the space around me. I didn’t know if Clara would even want to come with me. That’d be something awfully close to a date, and hanging out with the team could be a lot for just about anyone. Especially someone who didn’t suffer from delusions about hockey players in general or spend their lives trying to get on the inside of a team like the Wombats. Plus, Clara had just gotten a close-up view to the real Sly Remington, close enough to know nothing had changed despite the pro status and the money.
She probably wouldn’t want to come. Maybe I wouldn’t even ask her.
CHAPTER13
CLARA
MAMA’S ON THE MOVE
The next day I was at work early, Katie at pre-care at school, and my brain still circling around Sly’s text response to my offer to help him with school.
“What is happening here?” My partner Betty asked me, gesturing to my entire body as we parked the truck and got ready to head out for the day.
“What here?”
“Here. With you.” She pointed to her head, where her blue-streaked dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail she was dropping a hat on top of.
“Sorry. Nothing.” I shook my head. I needed to be clear for work. We’d placed an orphan with a mama in late winter, and though all had been going well, one of the cameras near the den had been knocked out by a storm. We needed to check on the mama and get the camera turned back in the right direction. I needed my brain on track for all that.
“You’re sure?” She frowned at me as she double-checked her pack.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Just had a weird weekend is all.”
“What weird?” she said, strapping on the pack and then coming to face me as I finished my own prep. My pack was going to be a little heavier with the ladder we needed to carry.
“Nothing really, just...”
“The guy. The hockey player you told me about?” I’d told her last week about Sly next door, our history. His ongoing shirtless hotness.
“Yeah. We hung out a little bit this weekend. He’s teaching Katie to skate.”
“That’s cute,” Betty said, though her words didn’t sound too sincere. Betty was not a fan of children. She was nice enough to Katie, but didn’t plan on having any of her own, and was not charmed by stories of the antics of kids.
“Yeah, it was. And then Katie was hanging out with the owner of the rink a little bit, and Sly took me out on the ice.” I endowed the words with a little more drama than was strictly necessary.
Now I had her attention. As we locked the truck and started the hike into the forest, I could feel Betty’s interest spike. “And?”
“And we kissed.”
Betty squealed. “So you made out with a star hockey player.”
Something about her words made it feel a little less incredible than it had been, sleazy somehow. “I mean, yeah. It was quick, but it was...wow.”
“Just the one kiss? Why’d you stop?”
“Kid,” I said and Betty rolled her eyes. “I’ve wanted to kiss Sly Remington since I was in ninth grade.”
“Oooh, I love it. Will there be more kissing?”
