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“Did Sierra get into hockey because of Dex?” I wondered.
“No, from Jackson and Johnny,” she said. Turning, she flopped sideways so she sprawled across the couch, lifting her legs and extending them out so her calves rested on my thighs. “Their parents flood their backyard and make it into a skating rink every winter. First time she saw that, she was hooked.”
“They flood their backyard? That’s pretty awesome.” I’d have loved that as a kid.
“Awesome means it’s bitterly cold here.”
“It’s beautiful now,” I reminded. “Hunter Valley’s amazing. That hike we did yesterday was great.”
She huffed and ran her hands over her head as if she was frustrated. “God, I’ve got to go again tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Bulldog rock.”
“It’s real?”
She shrugged her slim shoulders. “I think so. I was drunk.”
“Do you get drunk a lot?” Based on what I knew about her, she led a healthy lifestyle and drinking too much wine wasn’t a common occurrence.
She tipped her chin down and eyed me. Those blue eyes were hazy when they met mine. “When a man dumps you, you drink. When your daughter abandons you for her love of shin pads and skates, you drink.”
“What does a bulldog rock have to do with being dumped?”
She shook her head and covered her eyes as if she was hiding.
“I buried a ring.”
I blinked. Frowned. She didn’t move. This was a crazy conversation. I leaned toward her and pulled her hands from her face. This was actually a little amusing.
“You buried a ring?”
She made a sound that I took as a yes.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Tiger, you buried a ring by a bulldog rock that long ago and now you have to… find it?”
With a surprising swiftness, she flung her arms away and I had to sit back to avoid being smacked across the face. “Yes! I have to find it, or I have to give Duncan the value of the ring!”
“Who’s Duncan?”
“An ex-fiancé who wanted my mother more than me.”
Now I really frowned. That was… gross. And creepy. No wonder she got drunk. I wanted to track him down and take him out with a manhole cover. “I can see why you’d want to bury the ring,” I muttered.
“I don’t want to talk about Duncan or my mother. In fact, I don’t want to talk at all. I want to–”
I stalled her hands again, which were now tugging up my shirt. “Bed.”
She grinned. “Yes, please.”
I shook my head. “No, you. Bed. Sleep.”
“But you’re hard.”
