“My pleasure, Kelton.”
“That was a hard-fought win tonight, wouldn’t you say?”
“Definitely, Kelton. The Blackhawks are a tremendous team. The ending could have gone either way.”
“But it didn’t. In the last seconds, you put the winning goal in the net. How did that feel?”
“I’m just happy that I was in the right place at the right time. Bryant Taylor got the assist. I’m glad that the trust Swifty put in me when he passed me the puck was not misplaced.”
He could have laughed out loud at himself. That sounded like there had been a well-thought-out plan. There were no real plays in hockey outside of put the puck in the net. Skill counted and practicing drills mattered, but for the most part, it was chaos that sometimes worked out.
But one did not say that. People wanted to think you knew exactly what you were doing, that you had this all along. That was certainly something Jarrett understood. Hell, he lived by it the best he could.
Kelton went on, “And tomorrow night, you meet the Wild on their home ice. You got two goals tonight. Are you looking to beat that?”
“Just looking for the W,” Jarrett said. “A goal is goal no matter who scores it.”
Kelton laughed. “Unless it’s the other team.”
“Yeah, well.” Brilliant and eloquent, he was.
“And then you’re headed back to Nashville. Got any special plans for New Year’s Eve?”
You bet your sweet ass I do, Kelton. She said she’d go. Jarrett didn’t believe the superstition that you’d spend the year with who you were with at midnight, but it couldn’t hurt. After all, last year he’d been alone at midnight and that’s who he’d been with all year.
“Just looking forward to spending time with friends.”
“Good game, Jarrett. Best of luck to you.”
“Thank you, Kelton. Always a pleasure.”
Free. He was finally free. He headed toward the locker room but ducked behind a trash can and dialed Merry’s number.
It rang four times. He was about to give up when she answered.
“Hello.” There was noise in the background—lots of it. It sounded like a bar. He got a cold feeling in his stomach. A bar. He didn’t like that worth a damn. What was she doing in a bar? She didn’t even drink. And she damned sure didn’t have the skills to pick up extra money tending bar. Be cool. It’s none of your business. Maybe you can make it your business, but that hasn’t happened yet.
“Hi. This Jarrett.”
“So my phone said. I didn’t expect to hear from you this early.”
Maybe she’d thought she’d have time to get out of the bar. Who was she there with? He had no right to ask. Maybe he’d been wrong about her. A sick feeling moved through him. Still, he needed to carry on as if there were no yelling, laughter, and clinking glasses in the background.
“We won. And I got those two goals I promised you.” While you were in a bar with someone else.
She laughed. It was a sweet sound, but probably some other guy was hearing it, too.
“I know. I watched. I saw your interview at the end, too. You sounded great, but you need to comb your hair.”
He had not seen that coming.
“You watched?” He reached up and smoothed his hair. “Where? You said you didn’t have a television.”
“I don’t. I’m in the bar at The Big Skate. I was on my way home. I passed by and thought, why not? So here I am.”
A cloud lifted.
“You did that for me?” The sick feeling was replaced with a rush of pleasure.
“No. I did it for me because I wanted to watch you play. This place is a madhouse. I thought the roof was going to come off when you scored that last goal.”
“Our fans are loyal.”
“And loud,” she said. “By the way, thank you for all the things you did for me today—the roses, the lunch, the cupcakes. Chelsea and Harper enjoyed them, too.”
“Yeah? I’m glad they did, but I was trying to please you.”
“You succeeded. And not the least of it was you thought of them, too.”
Packi appeared, frowned, and pointed to the locker room. Coach was probably getting ready to do his postgame talk.
“Look, I need to cool down, get a shower, and hydrate. Can I call you after I get back to my room?”
She hesitated a little longer than he would have liked, but finally answered. “Sure. I’ll be home long before you do all that.”
Be home. She had said she usually walked to work.
“Merry, are you there alone? Without your car?”
“Uh . . . yes . . . ”
“Were you planning on walking home this time of night alone?”
“No. Yes.” She was quiet for a second. “To tell the truth I didn’t think it through.”
She didn’t think it through—because she had decided to watch him play hockey. That was the best news he’d had in a decade.
“Find Teresa. She’s the manager and she’s always there on Sound game night, home and away. Ask her to call you an Uber.”
“Jarrett, I’m perfectly capable of calling my own Uber.”
“Right. Sorry. You would be. I was afraid you might insist on walking home.”
“I’m not stupid. I want to live to eat the rest of those cupcakes.” They laughed quietly together. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
• • •
I am losing my mind—not to mention my self-respect and good sense.
Nonetheless, Merry laid her phone on the bathroom counter so she could hear it if Jarrett called while she was in the shower. She hadn’t done anything that asinine since that week and a half the spring of her junior year at Beaver Crossing High School that she’d spent hoping Spencer Crosswhite would ask her to the prom. He hadn’t. He had taken Carley Cavanaugh, who was not a pastor’s daughter and was highly likely to give him a prom night he would remember. She’d ended up going with Rodney Garrison, which had been fine. Not what she’d hoped for, but fine.
The phone didn’t ring while she was in the shower, while she dried her hair, or while she brushed her teeth. Yet, she didn’t doubt that he would call. After everything he’d done today, he wasn’t going to suddenly get distracted and fail to call. In fact, she doubted that Jarrett MacPherson was the kind to get distracted. He might become disinterested. That could happen tomorrow. But he wouldn’t be distracted.
She’d just settled under the covers, snug in her flannel hedgehog pajamas when the phone rang.
“Merry?” he said as soon as she picked up without waiting for her to say hello. He sounded stilted.
“Yes.”
“So you made it home okay? From The Big Skate?”
“Yes. I’m right here. Uber gone, teeth brushed, flannel pajamas.”
He laughed a little. “No Uber, no flannel pajamas, no teeth brushed, but I will soon be enjoying some of what I hope proves to be some excellent fettuccini Alfredo with shrimp from room service.”
“Ugh. That doesn’t even sound good, and I love fettuccini Alfredo. I have never eaten so much in one day before. Since I didn’t know what would be coming my way, I started the day with yogurt, a banana, and a muffin. Then I had that excellent lunch. I didn’t think I could eat a whole cupcake, but I had two.”
“Were they good?” he asked anxiously. “I wanted Gabriella, Swifty’s girlfriend and Emile’s sister, to make them, but she wouldn’t. Something about me asking at the last minute, a wedding cake she had to make, and not having time to drive to Nashville from Beauford.”
“How unreasonable of her,” Merry said.
“No. Not really. She’s a good friend. She would have done it for me if she could have.”
Good cow jumping over the moon. “I was being sarcastic, Jarrett. Making a joke.”
“Ah. I see. She gave me the name of a bakery. She said it wasn’t as good as Eat Cake, where she is an apprentice, but it’s close. So they were good? Which ones did you eat?”
“Coffee first
, and it was so good, I wanted the caramel one, too. So I told myself I wouldn’t have dinner, which turned out to be a huge joke.”
“How’s that?” He sounded more relaxed now.
“I couldn’t just sit at The Big Skate all night and order nothing. I was taking up a table for two by myself, so I kept ordering food. I even ordered a beer. I tried to drink it, but I hate beer. I do. That just isn’t going to change. But I didn’t hate the sampler appetizer platter. So I ate that. It took a while, but there was still a whole period to go when I finished. So I ordered a pizza, thinking I could take it home. I only ate one piece, but I forgot and left it sitting on the table. I guess I was excited about the win.” Might as well admit it. “And the goal you scored.”
“Two,” he said. “I scored two goals.”
“But I saw the second one.”
“You didn’t see the first one?” He was incensed.
“Yes. I did. But there was a lot going on and I don’t know hockey. I had to wait for the announcer to say you scored. The second one, I saw all on my own.”
“That’s fair.” She could almost see him nodding. “You didn’t eat the roses did you?”
“No. Too pretty to eat. And I should have thanked you for them right away. In fact, thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome. But you thanked me when we talked earlier. Tell me, where did you sit at The Big Skate? One of those tall tables?”
What an odd question. “Why?”
“I like to make the movie in my head—you know. Of you eating all those onion rings, wings, and little tacos. Trying to drink the beer. Trying to eat the pizza but unable to because you were full of my excellent cupcakes.”
She laughed. He’d said other people didn’t think he was funny. How could that be?
“It sounds like you know your way around The Big Skate appetizer sampler.”
“You have no idea. I know my way around everything that has been on The Big Skate menu for the past five years. Except pulled pork tacos. Barbecue doesn’t belong on tacos. Barbecue needs to stick to barbecue with slaw and beans, and tacos need to stick to taco stuff. So where were you sitting?”
“Okay. I was not sitting at a tall table. I hate those things. Anyway, they were for four, and since I was alone, I didn’t want to tie up that many seats, but I also didn’t want to sit at the bar. So I sat at one of those little round tables for two against the wall. But I felt like I had to eat, drink, and tip for two.”
“What you spent would have gone a long way toward a television. But about those tall tables—do you ever wonder why there are always tall tables in bars?”
“Not really. I haven’t spent that much time in bars.” He let out a sound that sounded a lot like satisfaction. “Maybe it’s so people on the make can get a better look at who’s available. Maybe they want people to have farther to fall if they get drunk and lose their balance—so it’ll knock them out.”
He laughed. “So are you going to watch the game tomorrow night?”
Was she? She hadn’t gotten that far. “If I do, I’m not eating all day—except maybe a cupcake. That maple one looked really good.”
“I’m not going to promise you a goal tomorrow night. It’s too much pressure. But I do promise that I’ll do all I can to keep you from ever having to sit at a high-top table when you’re with me.”
He referred to the future like it was a done deal, like the carriage wasn’t going to crash. On the one hand, it was a bit disconcerting. On the other, it made her feel—well, like all carriages didn’t always crash. Sure, it was early days, but all relationships began with early days.
“Oh! Thank God,” he said. “Room service is here. I’m starving. Hey, Swifty. Will you get that?”
Bryant Taylor was in his room? “You’re sharing a room?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “And not just my room, it turns out. My bed. Long story. A heater that didn’t work. A teammate too lazy and impatient to wait to be moved.” He spoke very loud, no doubt, for Bryant’s benefit.
“Mess with me, and I’ll dump your food.” The background voice was faint, but audible.
“We should hang up so you can eat,” Merry said.
“Probably should.” His voice had that already gone quality. She could envision him lifting the cover from a steaming plate of pasta.
“But before you hang up, I do have a question.”
“Sure. I might have an answer.” The last couple of words were muffled because his mouth was full.
“About this New Year’s Eve party.”
“What?” That got his attention. “You’re still going, aren’t you? You aren’t backing out?”
“No, no. I’m going. But what’s the dress code?”
“Dress code?” He said it like she’d spoken the words in some ancient, obsolete language that he didn’t understand—which could not be true, because the NHL had a dress code for arriving at the rink on game day. That did not bode well.
“Yes. Dress code. What is the appropriate dress for this party? What are people wearing?”
“Wearing? To Thor’s party?” She knew it—knew he would be no help. “Anything is fine. You always look nice.” Always didn’t mean much when that meant five times and twice she’d been wearing a uniform.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re going to wear? That will help me decide.”
“I don’t know.” He shoveled in another mouthful of food; she heard the fork clink on the phone. “Pants. Some kind of shirt. Maybe blue.”
It was no use. “Okay, Jarrett. Go eat your food.”
“Good night. Talk to you soon.”
And he was gone—right into a sea of pasta.
She didn’t doubt he liked her—at least for the moment. But there was no competing with a plate of pasta for a hockey player’s attention when he was fresh off a narrow victory.
• • •
“You are a dunce.” Swifty picked up his plate and started to get in bed.
“No,” Jarrett said. “You are not going to eat in bed—at least not the bed I am going to sleep in. Don’t even think about it. Come to the table like a civilized human being. And I’m not a dunce.” And he wasn’t. He, in fact, had a very high IQ and the papers to prove it. He was tempted to tell Swifty how high.
Swifty grimaced, but he moved to the table and sat down across from Jarrett. “That girl—”
“Merry,” Jarrett interrupted.
“Merry obviously likes you—at least enough to want to make a good impression in your world—and you didn’t do one thing to help her.”
“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The man had taken leave of his senses.
“And therein lies the problem.” Swifty pointed at him with his fork.
“Don’t stab me with that fork. Don’t do it, Swifty.”
“I have no intention of stabbing you. I’m eating with my fork. I don’t want your blood on it. Here’s the thing. Merry asked you what to wear to Thor’s party. And you told her anything.”
Was that all? “So?”
“So. If she shows up inappropriately dressed, she will just go on your long list of women who can’t make the grade. And it won’t be her fault, because you told her anything is fine. And, Jarrett, anything means anything.”
“No, it doesn’t. It means anything within reason.”
“Really? Remember the girl who wore shorts?”
“Yes. Elaine.”
“Wasn’t that the Hockey Fights Cancer fundraiser that Mrs. Davenport and the wives put on?”
“Yes.”
“It was a party headed up by hockey people, mostly for hockey people. Did she ask you what to wear?”
Had she? “I don’t remember. She might have.”
“And if she did, did you tell her ‘anything’?”
“Possibly. But Merry knows better.”
“Fine.” Swifty cut a piece of steak and put it in his mouth.
“What do you mean fine?”
“I mean you’
re hardheaded, but I’m going to try to help you anyway. Merry didn’t grow up in your world. Most people didn’t. Your dad was a big-time NHL player and here you are following in his footsteps. You’re hockey royalty. This world is second nature to you. Other people have to learn it.”
“There’s nothing to know. The NHL wasn’t like it is now. They didn’t make as much money as we do. And cancer is expensive. We were not rich.” Comfortable, yes; rich, no.
Swifty shook his head. “Rich is relative. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s about the world, the culture. I’ll grant you that shorts to a fundraiser is a little past good sense, but what if Merry shows up in some kind of nice church dress and all the other women have glammed it up? How is she going to feel?”
Damn. He had a point.
“What are they wearing?” he asked.
Swifty shook his head and laughed. “You think I know that?”
“What would you tell Gabriella if she asked this question?”
“Gabriella wouldn’t ask. Being Emile’s sister makes her hockey royalty, too. This world is second nature to her, like it is to you. She, Sharon, Noel, and Amy—they make the rules. And if Gabriella wasn’t dressed right for the occasion, she wouldn’t care. But I can promise you Merry would care.”
“Then what do you suggest I do?”
“First, don’t blow her off when she asks you a question. Second, if you don’t know the answer, help her figure it out.” He picked up his phone. “But this one time, I’m going to save your ass.”
“How’s that?”
“Calling the cavalry.”
Chapter Thirteen
When Merry arrived at Foolscap and Vellum at a few minutes before noon, Harper met her at the door. Merry assumed that—like usual—Harper was itching to go to lunch and intended to go the moment Merry set foot on the premises.
But she waved a FedEx Pouch in Merry’s face. “You got a something from FedEx! We can’t wait to see what it is.”
“Speak for yourself, Harper,” Chelsea said.
“Open it,” Harper said. “I bet it’s jewelry.”
“It had better not be.” Merry removed her coat and took it to the break room. Taking jewelry from a man at this stage was not the “done thing,” as her mother would say. Maybe it would be the appropriate clothes for this party, but that was too much to hope for. Anyway, accepting clothes from a man was as bad as taking jewelry.
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