Looking back at it, I could see issues with how my parents had raised me. But that was hardly something I intended to discuss with Lacey over a doggie gate. “I like the thought of mass-produced furniture not having a soul. Maybe I’ll use that next time I have to buy a not-flatpack-furniture,” I joked.
Lacey marked with tape where she wanted to drill the holes, then paused. “My moms weren’t like that,” she said softly. “They always wanted me to be… well-rounded, was their way of putting it. It’s why I did volleyball in school as well as art club.”
I remembered Lacey had mentioned volleyball. I’d assumed she had chosen it for herself, for exercise and to be part of a team. That was part of what I loved about hockey. From the way she said it, I wondered whether she’d also done it to please her moms.
“Did you always know you liked hockey?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “Even when it was hard, even when I disliked my parents being pushy about it, I loved being out on the ice. It was... it still is such a release.” Ice was home in a way that many other things never had been. Even this house had taken me a long time to feel at home in, something no ice rink had ever done.
“It’s partially what’s so hard at the moment,” I added. “Not being able to skate sucks. I spoke to the team doctor, though, and he reckons I’ll be cleared for no-contact soon,” I told Lacey with a degree of excitement. It was odd how much I wanted to tell her.
Her face broke into a smile that made it look like she was genuinely happy for me. “Oh, Will, that’s great!” If she hadn’t been holding a power tool, she might have actually hugged me. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I could tell how genuine Lacey’s excitement was, like she truly cared about me returning to the ice.
“I guess that means you won’t need my list of activities to take your mind off not skating, then,” she said, with a pout that looked far more teasing than her smile had done.
“Well, I don’t know exactly when it will be yet,” I pointed out. It did also remind me how I hadn’t texted her, the guilt once again pooling in my stomach. Should I say something? Would that just make things awkward? I had no idea. This wasn’t a situation I’d ever been in before.
Lacey drilled the holes in. It took her almost no time to set the gate up. “Wow. You’re really good at this,” I commented, honestly a bit in awe of Lacey’s skills. As someone who’d struggled to even put screws into that frame this morning, she was definitely doing better than I had.
She hummed, surveying her handiwork. To test the gate, she opened and closed it, making sure that it lined up properly and moved smoothly. “I should’ve offered to teach you, rather than just do it myself,” she said, sounding sad.
It had never occurred to me that Lacey might share her skills at DIY. It wasn’t the kind of ‘romantic’ activity I assumed she would enjoy. Not that this was about being romantic, I reminded myself.
“Is there anything else in the house that needs doing?” she asked eagerly. “I’m sure I can show you how to drill a few holes without hurting yourself.”
My first instinct was to say ‘no’. But, actually, there was probably a fair bit that needed doing. I didn’t want to call out a handyman for one little thing, so I just waited until there were a lot of things. Being able to fix them myself would be helpful.
“Um, I need to put up some shelves in the living room?” I offered. “Are you sure you’re okay to help me? I don’t want to take up your whole day with my inability to drill holes.” It was very generous of Lacey to offer. Maybe a bit too generous.
She waved away my concerns. “It’s not going to take long,” she promised me. And it hadn’t taken her long at all to set up the dog gate, so I took her word for it. I showed her through to the living room, where she walked me through the basics of planning, drilling, and finishing the holes.
Lacey was a good teacher. She took turns: first demonstrating, then letting me try. She’d correct me if I needed it, or catch what I was struggling with and explain it in a way that I could understand.
It had been a long time since I’d learned a truly new skill. It was surprisingly enjoyable.
“So that’s that,” Lacey said, as she dusted her hands off on her jeans. “You should probably vacuum before we’re really finished, but the shelves are up!” She beamed, looking pleased with her — no, our — handiwork.
She made small talk for a bit longer, slowly heading back towards the door. Then my stomach rumbled. Loudly. The sound practically filled the enormous space of my living room.
Lacey laughed. “You see,” she observed. “I should leave you in peace so you can eat something.”
“Do you want to stay?”
The question was out of my mouth before I even had time to think about what I was saying. I wanted Lacey to stay longer. Sure, I also wanted to thank her for all her help, but more than that... I wasn’t ready for Lacey to leave. Spending the morning with her had been fun. Even if we had just put up some shelves.
“Um, if you’d like,” I stumbled. “I mean, for lunch. Would you like to stay? I normally have some salmon and salad, but I can order in if that doesn’t strike your fancy.”
Lacey’s smile was so beautiful. It made me instantly glad I’d asked the question. “I’d love to stay,” she agreed. “Salmon and salad sounds great. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I might have said yes, but Lacey had already put up a gate and taught me how to drill holes. So I made her sit down at the kitchen island while I got to work on the salad.
She looked gorgeous, with the sun lighting her hair from behind. The nervous energy in my fingers as I chopped the vegetables had nothing to do with cooking and everything to do with the thought of sharing a meal with her.
I just hoped she didn’t think a meal was the same as a date.
Chapter Six
Lacey
I’d hoped that fate would bring me and Will together again. I hadn’t imagined that we’d end up installing a dog gate and putting up shelves! Neither was exactly the kind of activity that I associated with destiny or romance.
But I’d enjoyed myself a surprising amount. When I’d tried to involve boyfriends in my DIY projects before, they’d always wanted to take control. They’d been so sure that they knew better than me. It was only when I’d proved — several times — that my judgment could be trusted that I could do things the way I wanted.
There was none of that with Will. He didn’t question my capability, or make me demonstrate that I really knew what I was doing. He took my word for it. I appreciated that about him. And when I’d shown him how to drill holes himself, he’d been a good student! Attentive, willing to ask questions when he didn’t understand, and not so afraid of the drill that he wouldn’t get stuck in.
We’d done well together. The romantic part of me liked the idea of something we’d built as a team being a part of Will’s home, even if it was only temporary.
And now he was cooking for me! Or at least, making a salad. I watched his agile hands as he chopped and separated. Part of me wondered how those hands might feel against my skin.
“How did you come to choose this house?” I asked. I knew that, as an NHL player, Will had to make a lot of money. Enough that he had probably been shown half a dozen amazing houses.
I wondered why he’d picked this one, above all the others.
“I liked the location,” he answered. “It’s close to the rink, so I get to leave later. I thought, at the time, that it would give me more time to sleep in, but it turns out I’m really shit at sleeping in,” Will explained, giving me a grin. “So I go for a run, normally.”
Unlike Will, I loved sleeping in. I could definitely understand wanting a house closer to work so you could do that. It was a bit funny that it was only after buying the house that Will had figured out he didn’t like sleeping in.
“And,” he said, reaching for some tomatoes. “The yard’s huge. I told myself in the off-season I would learn how to gar
den. That’s gone about as well as me learning how to do DIY.”
I laughed. I liked that Will could make jokes about his inexperience with DIY. He didn’t put up a shield of bravado to pretend that he was better than he was. Nor did he try to act like DIY was beneath him or unimportant. I could do with some of Will’s poise when it came to my own areas of inexperience. Like hockey, for example.
“Now that you’ve got Teddy, you probably don’t want to put too much work into your yard,” I advised. “He might dig up something you spent ages planting!” Vega was part of the reason that I only bothered with things that could be grown in pots.
I sipped my water. “Would you pick somewhere different, if you could go back knowing what you know now?” I asked. It always interested me how people handled purely hypothetical questions. Some people couldn’t see the point of them, but I thought they revealed interesting things about how a person’s mind worked.
Will didn’t seem to think about it very long before he shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t. I like this house. It’s taken me a long while to make it mine, but I do like it.” I could kind of understand that. The house was huge. I couldn’t imagine living it on my own. At least with Teddy, the space felt more lively.
Glancing over my shoulder, I smiled when the doggie gate effectively stopped Teddy from getting in the kitchen. He did look sadly at us through the bars. “Don’t pay him any attention,” Will advised me. “That’s why I need a gate. He puts on those eyes and then steals your food when you’re not looking.”
“Ohhh, those sad puppy dog eyes always get me,” I admitted, turning my attention back to Will. “Even though I never knew Vega as a puppy, I still give her far too much human food when she begs me for it.” I wasn’t as strict as I should be. Deep down, I knew that. And yet, I just couldn’t bring myself to disappoint those beautiful blue eyes.
Harlan had always been the one to say no to her, the one who’d bopped her nose when she was misbehaving. “I’m lucky that she’s not fat as well as restless,” I added. “I’ve been taking her for longer walks this week, but she’s still chewing my shoes.”
I was hoping it was just bad habits. Eventually, if I stuck to our new routine, Vega would stop. I hoped. Otherwise, I was going to have to buy myself a whole new wardrobe of footwear.
“Yeah, you said she has to be out and about a lot?” Will said and I nodded. “Do you go running with her? I’m having a bit of the opposite problem,” he admitted. At my ‘oh’, he carried on explaining. Will nodded towards Teddy. “He’s lazy,” he informed me.
My eyes widened, head turning to look at Teddy. If he could tell he was being talked about, he didn’t show it. Instead, he sat down, resting his head against his front paws. “I struggle to get him up in the morning,” Will explained. “I try to get him up for a run and he just... keeps sleeping.”
I hummed. It wasn’t a problem I’d ever had with Vega, or with Mellow, the spaniel I’d had growing up. “I guess, he is doing a lot of growing,” I said. Even though Teddy wasn’t my dog, I wanted to come to his defense, to see the positive even in Will’s description of him as lazy.
“I read somewhere that the reason teenagers get up so late is because of all the growth spurts. And maybe how their brains are growing, too.” I had seen the article once, I didn’t really remember the finer details. “Maybe Teddy’s only lazy right now because he’s growing.”
But, as Will and I had both proved, we didn’t know a lot about how different dog breeds behaved. It was the kind of thing I would have researched if I had ever picked my own dog to adopt. But my moms had picked Mellow, and Harlan had picked Vega.
“Is it just in the morning, or is he lazy later in the day, as well?” I asked.
“He’s better later on, but I wouldn’t say by much,” Will answered. “I could always take Vega out for a run if you’d like,” he offered. “I mean... I guess you must not live too far since we seem to frequent the same places a lot.” That was true. Will lived in a much nicer part of our neighborhood, but my place couldn’t be more than a twenty-minute walk away.
“I go running anyway,” Will added. “So I could pick Vega up if you’d like. It’s pretty early, maybe seven am?”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t imagine being up that early, let alone being ready to go running. I started work at ten, and I was almost never up before eight in the morning. And not until even later on weekends.
But I would be willing to get up if it meant seeing Will. That thought sent a jolt of electricity straight through me.
“Do you have to get up so early?” I asked, trying not to show the excitement I was feeling. “I mean, I imagine if you went running when it’s busy after work, you’d get stopped every few minutes by someone who wanted an autograph.”
I was teasing, a little. But it was also true. I’d seen how eager Roxi had gotten just at the mention of Will’s job. The hockey nuts in our city had to do more than just watch Will run right by.
“I mean, if I run fast enough people can’t really stop me,” Will pointed out. I could tell from his playful tone that he was joking. I watched as Will got the plates ready, setting the salad out and then moving to the fridge to retrieve the salmon. There was such an ease in his movements that I could almost understand why he ate the same thing every day.
Once he returned, Will shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m really that famous. People do sometimes ask me for selfies when I’m out and about, but it’s not like a lot or anything,” he explained. “I got more of that a few months back because I did an interview for a local magazine, so people recognized me from that.”
There was such a modesty in what Will said. Playing for the NHL definitely came with some fame, I knew that. Yet, the way Will was talking, it sounded like nothing special.
“Do you find that side of it weird?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have people you didn’t even know reading about you in a magazine. I didn’t read a lot of sports articles, but I had read local interest stories about local entrepreneurs or activists.
In a way, I assumed it was something that Will had been prepared for. But that didn’t mean he was necessarily comfortable with it.
“I do,” he confirmed easily. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we give interviews all the time, often after a game, but... I don’t know. I’m trained for that, you know? I can talk hockey all day any day, but that interview was... It was strange. They wanted to know what my favorite foods were and whether I’d prefer a vacation on a beach or hiking.”
The genuine puzzlement in Will’s tone as he explained it made me laugh. Will shrugged. “It’s weird,” he defended before presenting me with a plate of beautifully made salad. “Let’s eat in the dining room,” he told me, nodding to the room next to the kitchen.
I hopped down off my stool, carrying my plate over to the next room. It was just as beautiful as the kitchen. There wasn’t quite the same amount of sunlight pouring in, but the furniture all looked like it had been chosen to harmonize together without being identical.
“Well, you could never say this dining set doesn’t have soul,” I teased. I was willing to bet that it hadn’t come out of any flatpack furniture kit.
Settling down, I tried the salmon, humming appreciatively at how good it was. It flaked apart delicately, uniting with the light dressing and the crisp of the salad leaves. “I don’t think it’s weird that people want to know about you,” I countered.
Maybe it was weird to Will. I could imagine him as a kid, wanting to hear his hockey heroes talk about hockey. Not whatever else was going on in their lives. But not everyone was like that.
“Hockey’s your favorite thing in the world, right?” I asked, confident that the answer would be yes. Will nodded. You didn’t get to the NHL unless hockey was your top priority.
“And you get to play hockey every day, and get paid for it. That means you’re living a kind of life most people can only dream of. They want to know about you as a person because they want a
n insight into what it takes to get there. And what kind of effect it has.”
Will seemed to think about that. I could tell from his expression that he wasn’t convinced of what I was saying. “I would be interested in what people have to say about hockey,” he informed me. “Not about whether they want to spend a vacation on a beach.”
It amused me how much Will didn’t seem to get why someone might want to know more than that about him. I’d already told him that I didn’t find it odd that someone wanted to get to know him better. That was true. In fact, I very much wanted to get to know Will better.
“Anyway, the answer’s hiking,” he shrugged. “Beaches are too sandy.”
“You’d be interested in what people say about hockey because you know hockey,” I pointed out. “But there’s probably plenty of people who like hockey well enough to know who you are, but they’re never going to play for the NHL. They might not even play in a league.”
I still played volleyball on occasion, but I wasn’t immersed enough in the sport to want to read an article all about it. “People who see hockey as something they watch, rather than something they do, want to know about you as a person,” I continued.
“I guess, on some level, they want to be able to say to themselves ‘hey, I like hiking, too!’. Then they can feel good about how they have something in common with someone so successful.”
To me, it seemed obvious. I wondered whether my explanation made any sense outside my own head.
The way Will was frowning, I was inclined to guess that it didn’t. But then he shook his head. “I’m going to take your word for it,” he informed me. There was something oddly nice about that. I had almost expected him to argue his point, for us to maybe come to a stage where we’d have to agree to disagree.
But no. Will just agreed.
It was... unexpected. Maybe it said more about me and my past relationships than anything. He seemed to catch my surprise. “What?” Will asked. “I don’t need to get it to assume that you’re right.”
Body Checked (Salt Lake Pumas #2) Page 6