A Secret for a Secret

by Hunting, Helena

  “Keenie!” Kody climbs into the chair beside mine and stands on the seat so he can hug me. He really is the cutest kid. He has his mother’s dark hair but his father’s eyes and the signature Bowman dimple. It’s impossible not to fall completely in love with his adorableness.

  “Hey, Kody, I’m so glad you’re here today!”

  “Aunt Evie bring me to watch Daddy practice ’cause Mommy is napping. She’s tired ’cause my baby brudder is dancing all night in her tummy!” He pats his belly. “I’m a big boy now, so I don’t need naps.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Uh-huh.” He nods. “Mommy says my brudder is gonna be an acto-bat. Imma play hockey like my daddy.” He puffs out his little chest. “Daddy says if I want to be a hockey player I has to eat all my vege-ables, but I only like corn.”

  I tap my lip. “Hmm, that’s tough, but your dad is right: you do need to eat vegetables if you want to grow up and be a big, strong hockey player like him.” I give his biceps a squeeze.

  He makes a face. “I don’t like broccoli.” He lowers his voice. “When no one’s looking I feed it to Brutus.”

  “Brutus is your dog, right?”

  He grins again and nods, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It makes his toots smell like rotten eggs.” He giggles.

  “What’s going on over here?” Stevie tickles him under the arms, and he squeals. “Hey, Queenie, how’re you?”

  “I’m good. Looks like you’re on aunt duty today.”

  “Sure am.” She grins as Kody scales the seats so he can be closer to the ice, and then she takes the one beside mine. “He couldn’t stop talking about you on the way over here. I think he believes you’re actual royalty.”

  I snort a laugh and tuck my bag under the seat. “Maybe I’ll wear a crown the next time you bring him by the arena to visit.”

  “Oh my God, that would be priceless.”

  “Lainey feeling okay?” I’ve also met Rook’s wife a few times. She’s quieter than Stevie; actually, they’re basically opposites in most regards. Where Stevie is outspoken and outgoing, Lainey’s more introverted and introspective. But I like them both equally.

  “She’s doing pretty good, but the baby’s been kicking up a storm at night, so Lainey hasn’t been getting the best sleep. Plus this one”—she points to Kody—“has decided that playing hockey in his bedroom at five in the morning is a good idea. Needless to say, she’s tired. I don’t have clients at the clinic until later this afternoon, so I figured I could bring Kody here for a couple hours, and Lainey could catch a nap.”

  “That was sweet of you.”

  Stevie shrugs. “It means I get time with my nephew, I get to heckle my brother, and I get to watch my man in his element. So pretty much all my favorite things in one place.” She winks and motions to the ice, where the guys are doing drills. “So, what kind of research are you doing this morning?”

  “Mostly I’m watching the players interact: seeing who relies on who, which players read their teammates best, who’s fastest, who scores the most, and how it lines up with their stats. The usual.”

  “No wonder your dad hired you as his assistant. You know the game, don’t you?”

  I shrug. “I spent a lot of time in arenas when I was little, not so much as I got older.” Since there were a number of years when I couldn’t stand to watch the game, I avoided it. It’s only now that I’m working here that I realize how much I’ve missed it. “But I get what makes a good player, and how sometimes switching out one player can strengthen or weaken a line.”

  “That definitely makes sense. When Bishop came to Seattle, they moved him from forward to defense.”

  “Really? Why would they do that? He and Rook are the top scorers on the team.”

  “He’s a big guy, so they thought it would be a better fit.”

  “I guess I can see that.” I scroll through the lineup of players. “Do they ever play Rook and Bishop on the same line?”

  “Uh no, not that I’ve ever seen. Why do you ask?” Stevie pulls a pack of mints out of her purse and pops one in her mouth before offering them to me.

  “Just curious. I get wanting to keep them separate so both lines are strong, but it would be interesting to see what putting them together would do for the team.”

  “I guess if they don’t beat each other to death with their sticks it would be an interesting experiment.”

  “Is that likely to happen?” I’ve seen those two bickering before. They’re worse than toddlers fighting over toys.

  Stevie shrugs. “I’d say there’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “Could be entertaining, if nothing else.”

  We sit in silence for a while and watch the players, noting who passes to who the most, whose form is the smoothest, and who takes the most risks, and the best shots. I find myself fixated on Kingston, although he is their main target. He’s also let in a lot more goals today than his stats indicate is normal for him. Another puck slips by, through the five-hole this time, and he tosses a glove on top of the net, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly frustrated. Bishop skates over and puts a hand on his shoulder—checking in, I assume.

  “I wonder what’s going on with King today? He’s playing like sh—poop,” she says, censoring herself, although Kody isn’t paying attention to us.

  “He’s usually a lot smoother,” I agree.

  “And less distracted. Do you watch them practice often?”

  “Not usually, no. But it’s easier to be where my dad is so I don’t have to go back and forth between the office and the arena if I have pressing questions.” He doesn’t answer texts or emails during practice.

  Stevie taps her lip. “Interesting.”

  I should keep my mouth shut and not ask questions, but I’m terrible at the whole impulse-control thing. “Interesting how?”

  “Because he keeps looking over here, and I’m one thousand percent sure it’s not me he’s checking out.”

  I fight to keep my eyes off him and fail. She’s right: he’s looking at me, and yet another shot gets by him, this time because he’s hugging the post.

  “Oh my God, look at how red your face is! Do you have the hots for Kingston?” She says it way too loud while elbowing me in the side.

  “What? No! Shhhh! Keep your voice down!” I duck my head, pretending to focus on my laptop, which would be more convincing if it weren’t sitting closed on my lap.

  We’re close to the bench, and while there are only a couple of players making adjustments to their equipment, my dad is right there. As if I need him to overhear this conversation.

  “Oh my God! You totally do! What is going on between the two of you?” She grabs my arm, eyes alight with some kind of weird excitement.

  “Nothing. There is nothing going on. Can we drop this, please?”

  She cocks a light-brown eyebrow. “I’m totally calling bullshit.”

  “Call it whatever you want, but there’s a no dating players policy in effect, so there really is nothing going on between us.” My face feels like it’s on fire.

  “Since when?”

  “Since I started working for my dad.”

  “There’s definitely a story to go with that comment.”

  “There are actually many, and I’m not telling any of them right now.” I nod toward the bench, where my father is standing with his arms crossed.

  “Okay, fine, dropping it.” She smirks. “For now.”

  I don’t have a chance to come up with another retort because the sound of more children in the arena draws our attention. We both look over our shoulders to find Violet, Alex Waters’s wife, making her way down the stairs with two children in tow. I’ve met her once before, but she only had the two oldest boys with her that time. This time she ushers a pair of kids down the stairs. They look to be a little younger than Kody, and they’re holding hands.

  “All the way down, River!” Violet calls out. When River reaches the aisle we’re sitting in, he tugs on his twin sister’s hand, but she duc
ks behind him and shakes her head.

  Violet pats her on the head. “It’s okay, Lavender; you know Rainbow Stevie.”

  The auburn-haired little girl sticks her fingers in her mouth, and Violet crouches down in front of her and whispers something to her. Eventually she follows her brother down the aisle, gripping the back of his shirt.

  “Lavender’s shy around new people,” Stevie explains.

  “She’s adorable.”

  “She is definitely that,” Stevie agrees.

  The little boy stops in front of Stevie. “Hi, Evie.”

  “Hi, River. Hi, Lavender. It’s so great that you could come to see everyone play today.”

  Lavender peeks out from behind her brother and lifts her hand in a quick wave before she tucks herself behind him again.

  “We get to go for ice cream after.” He shifts his green-eyed gaze to me and holds out his tiny hand. “I’m River Waters. My daddy is the coach. This is my sister, ’ave-der. She’s shy.” Based on the rote way he speaks, I’m thinking this is his standard introduction. He has incredible speech for such a young kid. He steps to the side, but his sister mirrors the movement, keeping herself hidden behind him.

  I shake his little hand, impressed by his firm grip. “It’s great to meet you both. I’m Queenie, and my dad is the general manager. He works with your dad, and so do I.”

  Lavender peeks out from behind her brother, and I get a glimpse of wide, bright-blue eyes. She tugs on her brother’s sleeve, and he leans in so she can whisper something to him. He frowns and shakes his head, but she tugs on his sleeve again and nods.

  “Are you Queen of the ’rena?”

  I chuckle at that. “Nope, but that would be a pretty fun job, I’d think.”

  “Why don’t the two of you have a seat? Lavender, I have your coloring book right here.” Violet pats the empty seat next to her.

  Lavender tugs on her brother’s hand. “We has to sit,” he tells me and then lets his sister tug him toward their mother. They cram themselves into the same seat. River helps his sister unpack her coloring supplies and hands her the crayons one at a time, always seeming to know what color she wants next without either of them saying anything.

  “They’re adorable,” I tell Violet.

  “Thanks. Don’t let Lavender fool you, though. Once she’s comfortable with you, she’ll talk your ear off. Isn’t that right, River?”

  “Yup.” He nods solemnly.

  Lavender gives her brother a look and then whispers something in his ear. He turns to me. “She says her voice gets lost with new friends.”

  “Nothing wrong with saving up your words for the people who count,” Violet says. “Your grandma said I was the same way as a kid. Not sure when that changed, but it’d probably save me a lot of embarrassment if I could manage to keep my trap shut instead of the constant verbal diarrhea I spew when I’m nervous, which is about ninety-five percent of the time.” Violet drops down beside Stevie and motions to the rink. “Anyway, enough about that. You two enjoying the eye candy?”

  “Definitely not going to complain.” Stevie grins. “Right, Queenie?”

  “Right,” I mutter, and I try to keep my focus off Kingston, but every time I peek over at him, he’s looking right at me.

  For the next twenty minutes I don’t do much in the way of note taking, mental or otherwise, since I get sucked into a conversation about preseason exhibition games and who they’re most worried about playing this season.

  “Geez. What’s up with King today?” Violet asks. “That’s the third puck he’s let in since I got here.”

  I elbow Stevie in the side, hoping she’ll keep her mouth shut about her hypothesis. “He’s distracted.”

  “Seriously. Did someone swap out his milk for Red Bull? He keeps looking over at the bench every four seconds. Did Alex give him crap or something?”

  “Not sure,” Stevie says with a shrug.

  “Well, let’s hope he’s not playing like this during the season, or defense is going to have their work cut out for them,” Violet mutters.

  I have the urge to defend him, but that would be suspect, so, like Lavender, I keep my mouth shut.

  My dad and Alex grab Kingston as the rest of the guys are getting off the ice at the end of practice. They have a very brief conversation, during which Kingston nods and kneads the back of his neck constantly, before he, too, disappears down the hall and into the locker room.

  Lavender and River are busy putting the crayons back in the box.

  “When I was your age I used to do the exact same thing.” They both pause and look up. For the first time, I get a good look at Lavender’s face. She looks a lot like Violet, but her eyes are a piercing icy-blue color. I motion to the box poised in her lap. “I always put the colors back so they made a perfect rainbow. Drove my dad batty because it took forever. He didn’t understand how important it was for every crayon to be in its rightful place.” I wink, and a sweet yet mischievous smile lights up her face.

  Once the crayons are taken care of, Lavender and River carefully put everything into her backpack, apart from her coloring book, which she hugs to her chest.

  We stop at the vending machines, and the twins get to pick out a snack, and then insert the coins and press the buttons. Lavender’s expression is gleeful as she chooses a bag of rainbow candies and then watches the coil unravel. Before anyone is allowed to open their snack, they all have to use hand sanitizer.

  “There’s my beautiful wife and my amazing children.” Alex swoops down and picks up Lavender. “Did you have fun?”

  Lavender squeals and giggles when Alex smothers her little face with kisses. She loses her grip on her art book, but it’s nabbed out of midair before it can hit the ground.

  “Nice save, King,” Violet says.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I mean, Mrs. Waters. I mean, Violet.” He turns to Lavender and gives her a smile that nearly liquefies my panties. “Did you drop something important, Miss Lavender?”

  She nods and then buries her face in her dad’s neck, but she peeks out a few seconds later and gives him a flirty smile when he holds out her coloring book.

  She takes it from him, hugging it to her chest again, still wearing that huge grin.

  “What do we say, Lavender?” Alex asks quietly.

  A few seconds pass before she murmurs a barely audible “Tank you” in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard in my life.

  “Good girl,” Alex says, and he kisses her on the cheek before he sets her back down. She beelines it right to her brother, and they take each other’s hand. He’s scowling at Kingston, which is pretty damn cute.

  “Hello, Stevie.” Kingston lifts his hand in an awkward wave and slowly, almost reluctantly, addresses me. “Hi, Queenie. I’m sorry you had to witness my poor performance on the ice today.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as his face turns bright red.

  Alex claps him on the shoulder. “It’s one practice, King. Nothing to worry about. You on your way to see Jake?”

  “Yes, sir,” he says to his feet.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. We all have bad days,” Alex reassures him.

  “As long as they’re not when we have a real game against another team.” King nods in our direction. “Ladies, have a lovely evening.” And then he hightails it down the hall toward my dad’s office. Which incidentally is also where my office is.

  Stevie and Violet exchange a knowing look, and Vi smirks. “I expect we’ll be seeing you at our Wednesday Night Movie Club soon.”

  “What’s Wednesday Night Movie Club?”

  “It’s when all the hockey wives and girlfriends get together to watch movies. Like a book club but a lot less work and a lot more eye candy.”

  “But I’m not a hockey wife or girlfriend.”

  “Yet.” Violet’s smirk grows wider.

  “Right, okay. We’ll see about that.” I clap my hands together loudly, startling myself. “I have some paperwork to finish up, so I should really go!” And just li
ke Kingston, I bust my ass down the hall.

  “Might as well cancel any Wednesday night plans you have starting now!” Violet calls after me.

  I push through the door to my office, shaking my head. Kingston can barely look at me without bursting into flames. Besides, there’s the whole “no dating players” rule I have no intention of breaking.

  It’s already after five, which means technically I’m allowed to go home. But I don’t want to leave until I check in with my dad and make sure there isn’t anything else he wants me to take care of. His office door is closed, though, and I know better than to knock, especially since Kingston is with him.

  I clean up my emails and add to my player notes while I wait. The longer it takes, the more my stomach twists. A fine bead of sweat trickles down my spine.

  This is crazy. Why the hell am I so nervous? Kingston is just a guy. So I’ve been naked with him. Big deal. So what if just the tip has been inside me? Accidentally. Or that I’ve thought about him nearly constantly since that night that happened more than two months ago. Who cares if he’s great with kids? Why is that thought actually making me hotter for him?

  Emails sorted, I make sure all my documents from today are saved before I shut down my computer. I’m packing up my laptop when my dad’s office door swings open. “Hey, sweetie, I didn’t realize you were still here. I should’ve told you to head home after practice was over.”

  Kingston appears behind him, eyes darting around, bouncing off me like a Ping-Pong ball, just to return a second later.

  “It’s no problem. I had some emails to clean up and a few notes to make. Are you ready to go?”

  My dad makes a face. “Uh, I actually have a few more things I need to take care of before I can call it a day.”

  “Oh, okay. I can wait if you’d like.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Why don’t you grab an Uber?”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  “Great.” My dad claps Kingston on the shoulder. “Remember what I said. You need to ease up on yourself, son.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Take it easy tonight. You’re looking a little flushed.” My dad disappears into his office, leaving Kingston and me alone together.