“Yeah.” He smiled at her, but it was no different from the smile Olivia had given her in the church. It didn’t reach his eyes. Clearly, his mind was on other things. “I’ll see you around.”
She stepped to the side as he backed out of her driveway, and as she walked toward the stone cottage, she noticed for the first time that the sun had disappeared. It kind of fit her mood. She made a face as she reached for the door, but then felt something on her cheek.
It was snowing again.
Chapter Nine
Beck worked his butt off Friday afternoon in order to finish painting the last bit of trim so he could call this particular project officially done. He left the bungalow just after six and went to the arena to play game one of their tournament, which they won. From there he stopped by the Coach House for wings and a beer because he was famished.
And because the guys wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He didn’t stay long because he knew Saturday involved at least three hockey games and, if they made the finals, the last game of the season. After the week he’d had, he knew he needed a good night’s sleep on account of the fact his legs weren’t getting any younger and there’d be a lot of skating the next day. When the hell did getting old become a thing? He didn’t like it one bit.
He ignored a message from Emily, which he felt bad about. He told himself he had no energy for a tumble in the sheets, but there was more to it than he cared to admit. He’d stared at her name for a few moments and then tucked his cell back into his pocket. He’d gone home and fallen into bed, exhausted.
Saturday was dull, with a cloud-heavy sky, which a lot of folks found disappointing after the warmer temperatures they’d enjoyed the last few days. Not that Beck or any of the guys he knew cared. They spent the whole of it at the arena, doing what Michigan boys did. They played three games of hockey and, after making the finals, managed to bring home the win. They were champions of the Monday Night Men’s League.
The dressing room was full of the kind of camaraderie only a close-knit team full of childhood friends could produce. The atmosphere was light, there were a lot of laughs, jokes, most of them of
f-color, and some horseplay. The guys looked forward to the party at the community center, which was conveniently attached to the arena. Wives and girlfriends came, a band was set up, the beer would flow, and it was catered by the Coach House, so there’d be lots of fried goods, as well as burgers and dogs.
What more could a guy ask for?
Up until now, Beck would have said nothing. Not a damn thing. But he’d been off for days now, and he had no idea why.
“You okay?” Nate asked, sitting down beside Beck to pull on his boots. Both of them were fresh out of the shower.
“I’m good.” Beck pulled on his black Henley and reached for his black leather jacket.
“You seem quiet is all.”
“I’m just tired.” Beck tossed Nate his tweed coat. “You ever regret coming back here?” Shit. Where the hell had that come from?
“What do you mean?” Nate frowned and slipped into his coat.
What did he mean? Beck shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You were all set up in a life in the city, and now you’re back. And this place…sometimes it’s a lot. A guy can’t give himself a scratch without someone seeing.”
“Don’t I know it.” Nate fiddled with the buttons on his coat. “My life took a left turn the day I injured my knee and my hockey career ended before it began. I knew then all bets were off and that I’d have to rethink things. But did I see myself back here?” He shook his head. “Nope. I liked New York City. I made a life there. I loved my job, and things were good. But then Molly happened, and now I can’t picture myself anywhere else. She’s a townie for life, and wherever she lays her head is where I need to be.” Nate narrowed his eyes. “What’s this about?”
“Nothing. I just… It’s been a weird week.”
“Do you regret staying? I know you had plans, that you talked about going to San Francisco with Cate and then…” Nate looked away.
“Yeah.” Beck ran his hands through his damp hair and sighed. “No, I don’t regret staying in Michigan. I mean, I don’t think so. It’s just sometimes I feel like I’m standing still. And then there’s Mom. I don’t know what it would be like not to have her poking her nose in my business.”
“You could move to Timbuktu and she’d still find a way to know what’s going on. There’s no place on earth where that’s a reality.”
“What the hell, boys. This conversation is sounding way too philosophical.” Randy Armstrong threw his arms around both of them. “What say we go and get us some beer and have a couple of laughs without the women breathing down our necks?”
Nate chuckled. “Well, my woman is waiting for me, hopefully with a cold beer in hand, but hey, you do you buddy.” It was common knowledge among the men on the team that Randy Armstrong was a bit of a horn dog, especially when he was liquored up. His wife knew it too, and if Beck were a betting man, he’d lay down a crisp Benjamin and say that Sheila Armstrong was waiting for her husband outside the dressing room to keep him in line.
Beck followed his brother out to the arena lobby, nodded a quick hello to Sheila, and spied Molly at about the same time he noticed Sidney standing beside her. He stopped in his tracks, surprised to see her. In small-town America, she stood out, and he couldn’t put his finger on why. It wasn’t as if she was outrageous or anything, and there were plenty of attractive women in town. She wore a pink jacket over a plain tan shirt, paired with faded jeans that fit like a glove, tucked into brown leather boots. Her outfit was simple and classy, and her hair tumbled down her back in loose waves.
She turned, and they locked eyes, and damned if the world didn’t tilt just a little bit. The feeling took Beck by surprise, and he frowned, unsure how to respond. He took a step forward, intent on making his way over, when long, delicate fingers closed around his forearm and stopped him.
Emily.
“Hey,” she said with a warm smile. “Great game, and congrats on the championship. You guys must be pumped.”