Quick Trick (Rough Riders Hockey 1)

He thought of Faith’s reaction to the news of his obligation. “That’s an opportunity most people will go their whole lives without ever experiencing.”

That icky feeling in his gut rose through his chest.

“Chicks dig this shit.” Tate gestured around the room, where everyone was talking and laughing with others. “Everyone digs this shit. Well, except losers like us.”

Grant was a loser, all right.

A major loser.

In fact, he was pretty sure he’d lost the best thing he’d ever found.

He replayed his last fifteen minutes with Faith over in his head again and again. “Safe travels, Grant Saber.”

“Grant?”

A woman’s smooth voice tugged him into the present, and he looked into the eyes of a woman he’d hooked up with a few months back. Kim? Kelly? Kris? Kira? Something with a K. She was so his type—so urban, so sleek, so perfect, so superficial. And he didn’t even remember anything about their time in bed, just that he’d slept with her. He knew without any doubt he’d remember every minute with Faith.

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh yeah,” Tate said with a lift of the brows as he brought his drink to his mouth. “I forgot who I was talking to. That’s a good reason not to bring her.”

Everything inside him pushed back. No. He didn’t want to go back to that life. He’d touched something real, and nothing else would ever measure up.

He turned and shoved his drink into Tate’s hand. “All yours. I’m done.”

“What? Grant—” He pushed both drinks into one hand and grabbed Grant’s arm. “You can’t just walk out. The big wigs aren’t even here yet.”

“Then they’re going to miss out, aren’t they? I’ve met my obligations, and they weren’t one of them.” Grant jerked from Tate’s grasp and threaded his way through the crowded room toward the exit and the limos waiting beyond.

Faith pulled the last package of drill bits from the last box of inventory that had once filled the shelves of her basement, and hung it on the designated hook. Releasing a sigh, she rested her hands on the top of the step stool, surveying the shelves around her for organizing opportunities. But she already knew there were none to be found—she’d organized every shelf in the store, top to bottom, end to end over the last thirty hours since she’d said good-bye to Grant.

She’d only taken a break to watch the tree-lighting ceremony—and boy had that been a mistake. Her mind replayed the sight Faith was sure she’d never forget, of Bridgette Ferreira cutting through the crowd and sliding right into place at Grant’s side, smiling up at him like an adoring Barbie doll.

Her stomach dropped to her feet again with the force of a ninety-degree roller-coaster plunge. Faith’s core muscles tightened to protect her against the inevitable pain. “He certainly didn’t waste any time picking up where he left off.”

God, she was so gullible.

So many emotions roiled inside her, they made her dizzy. She had to find something to keep her mind occupied, or she was sure she’d drive herself insane.

Faith climbed down the short ladder and snapped it closed. The metal clap echoed through the empty store. Not a soul had come through the front door in hours. Everyone in town and about a thousand other visitors were all at the festival.

And just like that, the ice-carving contest, her dad, and Natalie joined Grant in her uncomfortable thoughts. She wondered if Charlie Dumphies had won for the fourth year in a row. Wondered if anyone had missed her. And whether or not Natalie had gotten the validation she’d been looking for out of her role in the event.

Faith might never get the answers to those questions, but she had learned one important thing—she didn’t need the festival the way she’d thought. She’d also learned she now didn’t have anything to do to keep everyone out of her head. She hung the ladder on a hook in the back, closed her eyes, and exhaled. “It can only get better, right?”

Even if that were true, it didn’t help her now. Now she just had to find a way to get through it. She turned to face the store and all its empty aisles, cleaned and straightened to perfection.

“There certainly isn’t anything left to do here.” Her gaze stopped on the front doors. “And I won’t be making one damn sale today.” A wave of anxious misery snaked through her, and she pressed a hand to her forehead as thoughts of failure, of losing the store, of going bankrupt swam in her head. “What now, Faith? What the hell are you going to do now?”

This was when those lightning strikes of anger usually came. The ones that prompted her to yell at her father for leaving her. After which she always melted into tears.

But she was just too exhausted for that kind of emotional dump. And this place was too empty, too hollow to stay in tonight alone.

She took a few deep breaths to ease the sting of tears and did the only thing she could do. The only thing she knew how to do. The only thing that had worked for her in the past. She pulled on her jacket, collected all the notes relating to her last-ditch effort to save the store, grabbed a pencil, a notepad, the laptop, and headed into the freezing night.

While her store had been empty, Holly itself was alive with tourists and locals spilling out of the festival and strolling along the flashy streets.

In contrast, Faith traversed the adorable block in a mere ninety seconds and ducked into the warmth of Yuletide Spirits. The pub was as packed as she’d expected. Every seat at the bar was taken. Most of the tables were occupied. Quite a few people were milling among friends.