Smooth as Silk, page 14
“I’m surprised you aren’t wearing your kilt,” Hyacinth said.
“Aye. So am I.” His mouth went to a grim line. “I wore a dress kilt to my first game my rookie year and got fined. Prejudicial dress code, if you ask me, but no one did.” He slipped into the seat beside her.
“You didn’t fight it?”
“Not a hill I’m willing to die on. Anyway. Sorry about the crowd and all the stops.” He wasn’t; she could tell. “We’re fair game until we sit. Then they don’t approach us.”
“How’s that?”
He looked puzzled. “I don’t rightly know. Claire said that was how it would be and it is.”
“She has her ways.”
“She scares people.” He took a sip from his water glass. “She scares me.”
“How can that be, Scotty?” asked the guy at the end of the table, whose first language was clearly not English. He had large dark eyes. “You say you are scared of nothing.” He slung his arm around the blonde in the seat beside him.
“Just Claire,” Robbie said. “If you’re smart you will be, too.” He unbuttoned his top shirt button and rubbed his neck. She looked away, but not before a shiver ran through her.
“You should fear being rude, for not making introductions.” Big Dark Eyes turned to Hyacinth. “Hi. I am Miklos. This is Brittany.” Brittany wore a Yellowhammer jersey, as had Evans today. That must be a badge of honor. Most of the women at the table also wore jerseys. It made for an odd look, given that the men wore suits and ties.
“Holy family and all the wise men, magic man,” Robbie said. “Give a fellow time. Everyone, this is Hyacinth. She is a friend of Jake’s girl, Evans.”
“Wouldn’t that be wife?” asked the dark-headed man with a Russian accent next to Miklos.
“Right,” Robbie said. “Hyacinth, this is Luka. And next to him, Able Killen, with Ariel.”
“I know Ariel,” Hyacinth said. She was one of Evans’s assistants. She walked around in an ethereal fog, but was apparently an inspired baker.
Hyacinth greeted everyone, and Robbie introduced the others around the long table, but she didn’t pay much attention to the names of anyone except the five in her conversation range.
The waitress appeared with some sort of beer that looked like coffee for Robbie and he ordered a glass of prosecco for her without asking—which might have annoyed her if it hadn’t been her favorite. But how had he known that? She remembered having some at Thanksgiving lunch, but how could he have noticed? He’d been barely speaking to her.
“They know what I like to drink here,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Harviestoun Ola Dubh ale. They keep it for me special.”
“Maybe they do,” Luka said. “Maybe you have the parking spot for the moment, but do I see your jersey on the wall?” He pointed to where two jerseys were displayed. “I do not.”
“I don’t see yours either.”
“Bah! I care not,” Luka said. “It not like it’s Olympic Gold Medal.”
“You have to earn a spot on the wall,” Ariel said in a soft little voice. “Able’s was the first one up.” She looked up at him with her lilac-colored eyes and rubbed against him like a happy kitten. He dropped a brief kiss on her lips.
“I’m the luckiest guy here, for sure,” Able said. Hyacinth got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the jersey.
“Blyad!” Luka said. “Here comes other Mr. Jersey Wall.”
Hyacinth looked up to see a tall sandy-haired guy approach with a girl on each arm. He looked more like a boy than a man and seemed incredibly pleased with himself.
“Our esteemed goalie approaches,” Robbie said quietly to Hyacinth. “Dietrich Wingo. Try to ignore him. He loves himself.”
Pot, kettle. Hyacinth didn’t say it, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
“What?” Robbie said.
She didn’t have to answer because the goalie stepped up behind Robbie. “Hello, everyone! Meet Andrea and Shelly.”
“Shelby.” One of the girls corrected him.
He laughed. “Sorry, babe. I knew that. My tongue got tangled up. Now, Ryan,” he said to the guy on the other side of Robbie. “I’m just going to need you to move down so we can slide in here. Yeah. That’s right. One more.” Everyone from Robbie down shifted.
“Why do they obey him like that?” Luka said none too quietly. “I will beat him to a bloody pulp yet.”
“They do it because they don’t skate first line,” Miklos said, “and he had shutout tonight.”
“We had shutout,” Luka corrected.
“Able’s the captain,” Ariel said, as if that were pertinent, and traced the C on the shoulder of the jersey she wore.
“Use some of that captain luck to summon up a server,” Miklos said. “Luka should eat before he commits cannibalism with our goalie, yes?”
And like magic, she appeared. “Is everyone ready to order? The soup tonight is chili, the appetizer is barbecue nachos, and we have fresh salmon with a balsamic glaze served with roasted baby rainbow carrots and lemon parmesan couscous.”
Oh, yum. Salmon was Hyacinth’s favorite and she loved anything with a balsamic glaze. But she wouldn’t order it. She had talked big about what it would cost Robbie to feed her, but she would never be someone who ordered expensive specials when someone else was paying. She opened the menu. Maybe the chili and a salad—though she was really hungry. The grilled chicken sandwich came with fries, and a small salad was only five dollars extra. That wasn’t likely to cost more than what he ate.
“I’ll have two cheeseburgers, medium well, with double fries.” Robbie said. “And the lady will have the salmon.”
What? “No,” she said, but by then Able was already ordering a rack of ribs and lasagna for himself and a grilled cheese sandwich for Ariel. “Robbie, I wasn’t going to order that.”
“Really? You wanted it.”
“No.”
“Oh. Sorry. I misread you. I thought you looked like you’d opened your best Christmas present when she was talking about it. I’ll get her back.” He started to raise his hand.
She found her voice. “No. I’ll eat it.”
“I’ll not have you eat what you don’t want.”
“I do want it,” she admitted.
He looked confused. “But you said you didn’t.”
“I want it now. All the talk about it...”
“If you’re sure.”
First the wine, now this. Had he really been paying such close attention? She looked at the table where he was resting his hands. One of his knuckles was swollen and bruised.
“It’s always like this.”
Hyacinth looked up. It was Brittany, the girl with Miklos, who had spoken.
“Like what?”
“This.” Brittany gestured to the table, where the noise level had gone up, with the guys talking to each other all at once. “They get you settled, square you away with something to eat and drink—sort of like putting out Purina Dog Chow and a bowl of water. Then they’re done with you because they’ve got some glory moments to relive with each other. Or not so glory moments. But don’t worry. He’ll remember you well enough once he’s had some food, told all his stories three times, and wants some comfort.”
This took Hyacinth aback. Brittany looked to be no more than twenty-two or -three. She seemed more cynical than sad—which was sad within itself. “No. It’s not like that with us. Robbie and I are—” What were they?
Brittany laughed. “That’s the way of it. You never know what you are.”
Beside her, Miklos stood up and spoke excitedly about something. Between the hockey terms and the Czech he lapsed into, Hyacinth had no idea what. Brittany gave him a fond look that he didn’t notice.
“Have you and Miklos been together long?”
Brittany gave her a wry smile. “Now and then. Here and there. I live in St. Louis. I see him when he plays there. If he wants to see me somewhere else, he flies me in.” She shrugged. “It’s not exclusive. I like hockey players. What can I say?”
Hyacinth got it. Brittany was one of those women Evans had mentioned—a puck bunny. To each her own, but if it was making her unhappy, why did she do it? Had it started out fun, but she’d stumbled onto the one she was in love with, who just wanted to have a good time? Was it possible to stumble into love?
“It’s good that you know what you like,” Hyacinth said. “But really. Robbie and I are friends...have mutual friends. Look, here’s our food.”
As Robbie shook ketchup on his fries, he turned to her. “Got everything you need there? Did you want a salad? Or some extra bread?”
“No, I’ve got a gracious plenty.”
“Oh, but your glass is empty.” He picked it up and held it where the server could see it. “Stacy. Lass, when you get chance. Prosecco.”
Here a lass, there a lass, everywhere a lass, lass.
He was about to say something else to her, but got distracted by Dietrich Wingo instead. “I’ve told you before, Wings. Keep your hands out of my plate.”
An argument over fries ensued and Hyacinth settled back to eat and watch Ariel. She’d never seen anyone eat a grilled sandwich like that before.
An hour later, their food was gone. Hyacinth had turned down dessert, and had chatted with Brittany about the weather, airplane flights, and their Christmas shopping. Robbie had stopped drinking after his second beer, but the rowdy festivity around them showed no signs of slowing down. How many times had they relived the game? How many times would they?
She’d had enough and she had some work to do. “I’m going to go now,” she said in Robbie’s ear as she stood. “But you stay.”
His head whirled around. “No. How can you? I drove you.”
“Then you know it’s about a five-minute walk to my house.”
“Not happening, not at night.” He rose. “I’ll go, too.”
“It’s not even nine o’clock.”
“Criminals don’t care about clocks.” He put on his jacket and drank the last bit of water in his glass.
“Hold on there, Biscotti,” Wingo said. “You can’t go.”
“I bloody well can.”
But just then Claire sashayed out with Soup Carter behind her carrying a large shadow box.
“Gentleman, ladies,” she said, and the table went silent. “As you may know, here at Hammer Time a jersey doesn’t go on the wall until it’s earned. Dietrich, Able, join me, please.”
They went to stand with her under their jerseys. “Robbie McTavish earned his place on the wall of excellence today and earned it well. Robbie, join us.”
Much hooting and hollering commenced. There would be no living with him now, for sure. Cameras came out. Pictures were taken.
Hyacinth might have taken a few herself.
Just for something to do.
* * *
Well, it had turned out to be a right fine night. Robbie had thought Luka’s jersey would be next, or maybe Jake’s.
Plus, Hyacinth hadn’t given him any hell tonight—or much. Just about the parking space, and that was all in good fun.
“You really don’t have to leave,” she said as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “You should go back to your teammates. It’s a short walk and it’s well lit. I don’t need a ride.”
“Truly?” he asked. “You don’t mind walking?”
“I do it all the time.”
He took her arm. “Then let’s walk. Helps me get the kinks out. I’ll walk back and get my car.”
“Alone? At night?” she said in mock horror. “I can’t allow that. Too dangerous. I’ll have to walk you back.”
“And then I’ll have to walk you back again.” They proceeded down the street. All the stores had Christmas decorations and there were fairy lights in the trees.
She laughed. “We’ll keep it up until one of us dies on the sidewalk.”
“We’ll be known in the record books as the couple who walked each other home to death.”
“We aren’t a couple,” she said a little too quickly. Not that he thought they were.
“Sure we are—in that there are two of us and that equals a couple—but a couple that never quite made it home. Just went round and round, back and forth.”
“Until death. Which one of us do you think would die first?” she asked.
“You, of course.”
“Me? Why me?”
“I’m an athlete. My endurance has got to be a hundred—maybe even a thousand—times what yours is.”
“Who’s to say what would kill us? Maybe we’d starve to death, or die of dehydration.”
“Nah. We could stop and drink from people’s garden hoses. Pretty soon people would stand on the street and give us food. We’d be famous.”
“You’re already famous,” she pointed out.
“Not so much. Only in the hockey world. Did you know who I was?”
She laughed. “I’m still not sure I do.”
“Ah. That’s the way I like it. A man of mystery. Tell you what. Ask me a question. Anything. I’ll answer.”
“Hmm. That’s hard.” But he could tell she was interested.
“Take your time. You said it was a five-minute walk. You have at least three more minutes.”
“Okay. Why were you and Wingo arguing about French fries?”
He stopped in the middle of the street they were crossing. “You have got to be kidding me. I give you carte blanche and that’s what you ask?”
“What did you think I would ask?”
“I don’t know. If I believe in God.”
“I know you do. You’ve already talked about what a good Catholic boy you are. Good Catholic boys tend to believe in God.”
“Well, then, if I’ve ever been in jail.”
“You’ve already told me you haven’t.”
He had? “When?”
“When you were nattering on about what kind of relationship you had with Jules and her fiancé. You said they weren’t the kind of friends you’d call to get you out of jail, but you hadn’t been in jail.”
“Oh, right. I guess I did. You have been paying attention.”
She got the oddest look on her face, one he couldn’t begin to read.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” When women said nothing, that was never true. Was he in trouble? He didn’t see how.
She took his hand and pulled him onto the sidewalk. “Here comes a car. I’m curious about the French fries—not how your brains would look scattered on the pavement.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“So about the French fries?”
“That. Wingo. Holy family and all the wise men. He’s a great goalie; can’t deny it. But he is a cross to bear. He’s a rookie. He was cock of the walk in college—won the National Championship last year. He can’t get over himself, knows he’s handsome. He’s always strutting around talking about how much weight he can press, and how his body is his temple, and he never puts anything bad in it—no red meat, simple carbs, sugar. God forbid anything fried. But the minute he sits down by somebody at a table, he starts eating off their plate. Bad stuff. Some of the guys put up with it, but I will not. As for Luka. Well. I don’t think Wings will try it again with him. At least I didn’t stab the back of his hand with my fork.”
To Robbie’s surprise, Hyacinth began to laugh—and not just a little chuckle. She bent double, held her sides, and laughed from the depths of her soul.
He caught his breath. When had he ever enjoyed a sight and sound more?
She finally straightened up and wiped her eyes. “Y’all are like a bunch of junior high puppies.”
“I didn’t know puppies went to junior high.”
She tucked her hand into his arm and started to walk again. “Maybe Wings brought two girls so he’d have two more plates to eat from.”
Robbie shuddered in spite of himself. “I hope so. I had considered another reason. I don’t want to think about that.”
“Oh? Nothing that wild for you?”
“No. I am old-fashioned in my own way.”
“I’m sure you are.”
They had arrived at her little house faster than he had expected.
“Here we are,” she said, reaching into her pocketbook for her keys.
He took them from her. “Let me get that for you.” He stepped inside first and turned on the lights. Everything looked fine, so he stepped aside and let her enter.
When she closed the door behind her, he thought she’d ask him to sit down, but she didn’t.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said. “And for walking me home. You should go back and celebrate with your team.”
He’d been thinking he might, but that was before he’d seen her laugh. “I’ll probably just go collect my car and head home.”
She grinned. “I could give you a ride home so you can leave your car in the space.”
“But then I’d have to follow you back.”
“And on it would go.” She reached for the knob to open the door, and he caught her scent. She smelled like she had the night he’d almost kissed her.
He considered it. She looked at him with a bit of expectation in her eyes, but she was probably wondering why he was still standing here when she had opened the door for him to leave. Kissing had come easier at fourteen, thirteen, even. But he had to wonder. Had those girls—and the women since—kissed him, or a hockey player?
It had been a good night. He didn’t want to ruin it with a wrong answer to that question.
He reached for his wallet, but changed his mind. He had fully intended to pay her for the ruined frock tonight, but what would it hurt to have an excuse to see her again?
“Goodnight,” he said. “Be sure to lock the door.”
Chapter Fourteen
“This is the last one.” Brad came in the front door of Trousseau with yet another plastic tote of Christmas decorations. “An even dozen.” Ava Grace had sent them over and she didn’t do anything halfway when it came to decorating.
