Quick Trick (A Rough Riders Hockey Novel Book 1)

by Skye Jordan

  “No, thanks, kid. These nightly walks are my quiet time with MaryAnn.”

  Grant nodded. “Breakfast tomorrow, then? Seven a.m.? Shelly’s? I’m buyin’.”

  Dwayne grinned. “I’ll be there.”

  Grant slid into the driver’s seat, his mind swamped with the new information. A lot of people thought Dwayne rambled. But if they took the time to listen, they’d figure out the man said a hell of a lot in a short amount of time.

  Grant turned the engine over, backed out, and started home. Facing his parents pushed his turbulent feelings about Faith and her father to the background, because Grant didn’t know how to feel or what to think about everything he’d just learned. Right now, all he could focus on was what he could understand—his mother and her manipulation.

  He shouldn’t be surprised. Shouldn’t give a damn. But by the time he pulled into his parents’ driveway again, he was damn good and ready to bail on the festival and leave a check in Dwayne’s mailbox instead.

  He pulled the tree onto his shoulder, pushed through the front door, and turned into the living room. Then immediately dropped the tree, spreading ice and pine needles across his mother’s perfectly manicured carpet.

  Dual gasps touched his ears before he looked up.

  “Grant Saber,” his mother scolded. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

  “You” was what he wanted to say, but he saw someone else in the room. A young woman sitting on the next cushion. Even after being away for years, Grant immediately knew who she was and why she was here.

  Which only angered him more.

  “What’s going on?” Grant’s father came in from the next room. “What in the hell happened here?” Martin Saber spread his hands, indicating the mess of the tree, but didn’t wait for an answer before his glare turned on Grant. “Clean up that mess right now.”

  “I’ll clean up my mess if you clean up yours.”

  “Grant.” His mother’s cutting, shape-up-right-this-second tone hauled Grant back to his childhood. “You remember Natalie.”

  Natalie Duboix, the oldest daughter of Dad’s business partner. Grant remembered her because the two families had been trying to set them up for years, all with the hope of pulling Grant away from hockey and back into the family fold.

  “She’s organizing Winter Wonderland this year,” Hazel said when he didn’t answer, “and we were just talking about the possibility of you presenting the keynote speech at the banquet that always wraps up the festival.”

  “The answer to that would be no. Just like the answer to me judging the ice-sculpting contest would have been no had I been asked. In fact, if I’d known I was going to be manipulated while I was here, I wouldn’t have come at all.”

  Natalie cast a dry smile at Hazel and patted her hand. “I’ll just give you all some family time.”

  She stood and walked toward Grant. Or rather sashayed. Her tight fitted skirt made it impossible for her to do anything else. Her heels were spiked, her blouse see-through with something lace beneath. She’d always been pretty, but Natalie had become truly beautiful with age. In a word-association game, her image would elicit a response of Stepford wife—perfectly proportioned features, creamy skin, every deep brown strand of her hair curled just so.

  For a second—just a split second—he wondered what she’d look like throwing Christmas trees. And his admiration for Faith’s perseverance and tenacity sparked again.

  Just when Grant thought Natalie would walk past without comment, she stopped beside him. Slipping her arm around his, she hugged his bicep against her breasts and surrounded him in a bubble of powdery perfume. Grant looked down into her crystal-blue eyes and realized that if he didn’t know her, if they’d met somewhere else, like at a party in DC, he’d be all over the idea of getting her back to his place. She was gorgeous and refined. She reeked of money and connections and easy sex. And reminded Grant of the kind of women he’d dated when he’d taken breaks from playing with the anything-goes Rider Girls.

  “You look better than ever.” Her voice was soft and alluring. “I see you on the news doing all sorts of great things for charity. Your generosity is one of the things I adore most about you. And you’ll be doing a lot of good right here in your hometown if you participate.” Her grin grew, and her perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth gleamed. “You can bet I’ll be here to keep you company.”

  She squeezed his arm and continued through the living room toward the foyer, escorted by Grant’s father.

  As soon as the door closed behind Natalie, Hazel turned an icy glare on Grant. “What in God’s name has gotten into you?”

  “Eight years,” he said, forcing his voice down so Natalie wouldn’t hear through the many windows that looked out over the property. “You’ve been nagging me to come home for the holidays for eight years. And when I finally do, I find out the only reason you wanted me here was so you could use my name to rake in money for your charity. That’s what’s gotten into me.”

  “Watch it,” Martin warned, returning to the living room. “We gave you that name.”

  “You might have named me, but I earned the reputation behind the name—despite you.”

  Martin’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth.

  “Just calm down, everyone,” Hazel said. “Let’s take a second to put everything into perspective.”

  “I’ve got it all in perfect perspective, and it’s damned ironic,” Grant told her. “After suffering through decades of disappointment over my love of hockey, you now need me—and the fame I’ve earned through the sport you hate—to pull in money for your charity. All so you can look like hot shit to people in this town.”

  “You will not talk to your mother like that—”

  He swung toward his father. “I’m talking to you too, Dad. You’re no better.”

  “Get out.” Martin stabbed his index finger at the door. “Right now.”

  “No, he’s right,” his mother countered before Grant could even take a step. “I’m sorry, Grant. You’re right. In my defense, I have always wanted you home to have the family together, but when I heard you weren’t skating over the holiday and could make it, I did leverage your visit for the good of the community. And while your success hasn’t come in the way your father and I had hoped, there is no denying you have reached incredible heights in your career.”

  She paused, looking more contrite than Grant had ever seen her, and drew a breath. “Regardless of whether I care for hockey or not, as your mother, I’m proud. So, yes, I want you out there front and center, where everyone can see what a success you’ve made of your life.”

  No. She wanted him out there front and center so she could brag about him. So she could take some sort of credit for his success, when the truth was Grant had fought his parents every step of the way to get to this point in his career.

  But he knew that look in her eyes. She wholeheartedly believed what she was saying. And there was no point in trying to get her to see that she was still lying to herself. As for Martin, Grant already knew the man would go to his grave disappointed that his middle son had gone rogue and deserted the family business.

  Bottom line: Grant would always be considered a loss to his parents, no matter what he achieved.

  “Please stay, son,” his mother said. “You’ll be doing great things for the high school team. A lot of boys here look up to you.”

  Like she knew anything about the high school team. Neither she or his father had ever been to one of his games. Not one in Grant’s entire life.

  “Don’t try to guilt me. We all know neither of you care who looks up to me or what I could do for the team. All you care about is what you care about. It’s always been that way. It will, obviously, always be that way. But you’re right about one thing. There are people here who respect what it took for me to get where I am. And I do want to help those people. So if I stay, I’ll be staying for them.”

  “Grant…” His mother exhaled and shook her head. “Let this argument b
low over and see how you feel about things. Your brothers will be here soon, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.”

  Perfect. His brothers. The older one was so green with envy over Grant’s career success, he constantly took cuts at Grant’s game like the fucker knew what he was talking about. The younger one was so wild, Grant was shocked he was still alive. Surely the only reason he wasn’t incarcerated was because their father repeatedly bailed him out.

  Now Grant wished he’d thought this decision through better. But there had been a sliver of hope that his family had changed over the years. And the fact that they hadn’t, that they might even be worse than they’d once been, both hurt and deflated Grant.

  “This was a fuckin’ bad idea,” he muttered, rubbing the tension from his face. Now he felt stuck. He’d promised Dwayne. Dwayne would have promised the kids by now. And one thing Grant hated to do was let kids down. He knew how that felt and avoided it at all costs.

  “Stay in the guesthouse if you need your own space,” his mother added.

  What fuckin’ choice did he have? He could get a hotel, but the closest one was a several miles out of town and he’d end up driving back and forth all day, every day.

  “I’ll think about it.” He bent, picked up the tree, and dragged it toward the front window, where their Christmas tree had reached toward the open-beamed ceilings for as long as he could remember. “And for the last time, stop trying to force Natalie on me. I have a life in DC. A damned good one. I’m not staying here, and no one is going to change my mind about what I do for a living. Sure as hell not a woman.”

  He gripped the netting and took out his frustration on the nylon, ripping it open. “Now where do you want this damn thing?”

  4

  Faith knelt on the floor at the back of the store, surrounded by miles of tangled Christmas lights. Overwhelmed, she looked up at Dwayne. “And why, exactly, did you wait until so close to Christmas to bring this to me?”

  “Ah…” He grimaced and scratched his head. “I wasn’t sure whether or not I was going to do it this year. And I thought I’d be able to figure it out on my own. But I’m just realizing why MaryAnn spent weeks on setting this up every year.” He sighed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask you… I know how busy you get during the holidays…but…” He lifted his gaze to Faith’s and the pain there resonated with her intimately. “I can’t take the darkness or the silence anymore. The holidays were so lively, so full of fun, when MaryAnn was here…”

  His voice broke. He dropped his gaze to the mess on the floor with a sad laugh, but not before Faith saw his eyes glisten with tears.

  Her heart broke for him. For herself. For all the Christmases ahead that she and Dwayne would have to spend without the people they loved in their lives.

  Holding back her own pain, Faith pushed to her feet, stepped over the light strands and gripped Dwayne’s biceps. She worked up a smile and squeezed his arms. “I understand. Perfectly. I’ll get this working for you, Dwayne. I promise.”

  He lifted a wobbly smile just as a young male voice bellowed Faith’s name. “Auntie Faith! Auntie Faith! Where are you?”

  Dwayne smiled, the expression sad. Hollow. “Caleb.”

  “Yeah.” She dropped her arms and planted her hands on her hips. “His mom’s got some work to do. He’s helping me here today.”

  Dwayne’s laugh was tired. “Oh, well…good luck with that. If you figure out a way to get him to pay more attention on the ice, let me know. Thanks for…um…”—he gestured to the equipment—“this.”

  “Of course.”

  Caleb ran past the aisle. Then his tennis shoes squeaked to a halt on the linoleum floor, and he reappeared near the end cap. “Auntie Faith, guess who’s here?”

  Faith grinned at the boy’s ever-present enthusiasm. “Hi, Caleb. I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  “But…but…but guess who’s in town.”

  Dwayne laughed. “You gotta knock that off, kid. He’s not going to put up with any fangirling.”

  “There you are.” Taylor appeared at the end of the aisle behind her son. “Jeez, Caleb. What happened to waiting for me?”

  Caleb glanced over his shoulder. “You always talk with Cody’s mom forever.”

  Faith crossed her arms and looked at Taylor. “What’s going on?” Man, she hoped Caleb’s father hadn’t started coming around. The asshole would just bail like he always did and break Caleb’s heart again. “Sounds pretty exciting.”

  Caleb’s head snapped back toward Faith. “Grant Saber is here,” he said with the same awe and enthusiasm as Faith would have expected from him at a monster truck show. “And he’s helping with the team.”

  The only team Caleb could have been talking about was the hockey team. No matter how hard Taylor tried, she couldn’t get her nerdy boy interested in any other sport or team.

  “You like that, huh?” Dwayne asked, patting Caleb’s shoulder as he wandered past and down the aisle.

  “Yeah,” Caleb said with a tone of “duh.”

  “Caleb” was all Taylor had to say before the boy realized his misstep.

  “I mean, yes, sir. It’s awesome. He’s really cool.”

  “Extra cool since he only came to help out the high school team but stayed over to help your club team, huh?” Dwayne asked, the first real grin lighting his eyes.

  “Totally.” Then suddenly, Caleb’s excitement turned to concern. “He’ll come again, right? I mean, he wasn’t there for just today…” Caleb’s worried gaze darted to Taylor. “Mom? I didn’t get his autograph. I thought he’d be back.”

  Taylor was beaming. Caleb’s disinterest in sports or even playing on the playground in favor of quieter endeavors had caused the already-introverted boy to be shoved aside for more active, more popular friends in school.

  “Autograph, huh?” Faith said, shooting a questioning gaze toward Taylor. “Well, if you stick around long enough, he’ll be here. He’s been in at least three times a day for the last two days.”

  “Really?” Caleb said.

  Dwayne strolled past Caleb, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Caleb, he’s here for a few weeks. But you’d better get all that excitement out before you hit the ice this afternoon. He wants you kids focused and ready to work.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, serious and stoic. “I will, sir. I promise.”

  Dwayne chuckled, said hello to Taylor and waved good-bye to Faith.

  Before Faith could ask Taylor or Caleb about Grant—more specifically why Caleb wanted his autograph—Caleb looked at Faith and said, “How old would I have to be to work here, Aunt Faith?”

  Faith’s brows shot up. “Well, that’s new. You didn’t want to have anything to do with helping out a few months ago.”

  “So you’ll let me?”

  Faith lifted her gaze to Taylor, grinning. “I’ll talk to your mom about it.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Faith.” He turned to his mother. “Can I go look at the fishing poles?”

  “From hockey to fishing in a split second.” A little of the excitement leaked from Taylor’s expression. “Sure.”

  Caleb hurried in the direction of the outdoors department where Faith carried a limited supply of recreational gear for tourists, and Taylor came toward Faith.

  “That’s who you met at the bar the other night,” she said, voice lowered. “The guy you said asked you out, right? Grant Saber?”

  “Yeah.” Her stomach tightened. “Why? Who is he?”

  “He’s a center for the Rough Riders.” Her voice and expression held as much excitement as her son’s.

  But Faith was having a hard time placing the Rough Riders. “I’m guessing that’s a hockey team?”

  That accounted for his great build. This celebrity Faith couldn’t appreciate was obviously why he’d thought she should have known him. It also seemed to be what he was looking for every time he came into the store.

  “It’s an NHL team, Faith.”

  “Don’t say that like I’m suppos
ed to know. You know I don’t have time to watch television. And I only pretended to watch sports to keep Dad company.”

  “Why has he been coming in? Did he ask you out again? Because you should go. He’s hot. And he’s loaded.”

  “And he’s just looking to get laid like his brothers.” She gave Taylor a look. “You hate his brothers. You turn them down every time they’re in town. Why would you suggest I go out with Grant?” Suddenly, she was mad. “Do you really think I’m so bad off that I need to go out and fuck some slutty player? Because I’ve got more important things—”

  “No.” Taylor’s hand closed over Faith’s forearm, her voice level again, her eyes serious. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Faith shut her mouth and lifted both hands to her face to rub at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.” She’d lost sleep over Grant. Grant and all the little fantasies he’d stirred in her head. She swept a gesture over the lighting extravaganza equipment. “And Dwayne just dumped this project on me.”

  She crouched and started winding light strands from palm to elbow, palm to elbow.

  “What I meant,” Taylor said, “is that he’s not his brothers. He’s never been in town. This is the first time he’s been back since he went pro.”

  Now she was sort of impressed that he hadn’t told her that he was a pro hockey player, or that he was here to help coach the local teams when he’d come into the store. And she didn’t want to be impressed. Because she didn’t have time or patience for this shit. “That doesn’t matter. He’s still looking to get laid. What is it about these guys? Do they think we’re all hard up because we’re out here in the boonies? It may be true, but it’s still insulting.”

  Taylor laughed. Hard. Which brought a reluctant smile to Faith’s lips.

  “It is really cool to see Caleb excited about something, though,” Faith said. “I haven’t seen his eyes light up like that in a long time.”

  “Right?” Taylor said. “So is that why Grant’s been in here so much?”