Page 136

Fingers crossed the system I set up is simple enough to keep twenty people from arriving at my house with six pies and no vegetables.

But right now, for the first time all morning, the house is quiet. The turkey is in the oven. The table is almost set. Eva and I have an hour before Lucy arrives and the quiet disappears for the rest of the day.

I pick up my coffee as my phone vibrates again. Then twice more.

I give in and reach for it, fully expecting it to be Dominion chat still but to my surprise, it’s not.

The messages are coming from the Pucks and Prose group chat, which began with six members and has somehow grown to include most of the team and an assistant coach. We’ve been meeting every two weeks for a year now, which is hilarious. Some of the guys even insisted on doing video chats if they couldn't be at our meet-ups in person. Who woulda thought?

I open the chat figuring I’d find a string of messages debating next month’s book. Over the past year, Owen has become alarmingly protective of fictional dogs, Ty now refuses to read anything without a happy ending, and Tripp routinely claims he hasn’t finished the book before arriving with several pages of notes.

However, the latest debate has nothing to do with the book. They want their own shelf at Side B, complete with recommendation cards and a photograph of the group. Sawyer is campaigning to name it Literature on Ice, while Owen maintains that sounds like a figure-skating show no one asked for.

I turn the screen toward Eva. “They want retail space.”

She reads the messages. “Retail space has to earn its keep.”

“Campbell’s last recommendation sold out.”

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs. “He bought fifteen copies for the locker room.”

I shrug. “A sale is a sale.”

She considers this. “You guys can have half a shelf. No giant team photograph.”

“What if the photograph is nonnegotiable?”

Eva hands back my phone. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

I catch her around the waist before she can step away, pulling her down onto my lap.

She makes a surprised sound as her knees settle on either side of my hips, but her hands land on my shoulders, and she doesn’t appear to be in a hurry to move.

“What are you doing?” she asks. “We have so much to do before everyone gets here.”

“Negotiating.”

“For what? You already have half a shelf.”

“For the photograph.”

“I consider shelf space in my store to be prime retail real estate.” Her eyes narrow. “You’re going to need a much stronger argument.”

“Really?” I slide my hands around her waist. “Give me a minute, I’m just getting started.”

Through the glass doors behind her, Thomas has abandoned the turkey campaign and climbed onto his feeding tray. He sits with a walnut between his paws, watching us with inappropriate interest.

Eva chuckles, kissing the tip of my nose before she glances over her shoulder. “You know, I think he wants to come in.”

“He can continue wanting.”

“Liam.” She huffs. “It’s cold outside.”

“He’s wearing a fur coat.”

“He’s your outdoor buddy who lives here.”

“That is where you’re mistaken,” I laugh. “He’s a squirrel who eats for free. He’s probably expecting a plate later with extra mashed potatoes, hold the salt.”