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CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
FORD
I’m stepping out of the showers in our dressing room after our game. We won tonight, and Thomas scored two of the five goals we made. I’m relieved this line mix-up thing is actually working.
Securing a fresh white towel around my waist, I slide on my shower shoes and head back out to my cubby. Our dressing room isn’t just a locker room. It has all the bells and whistles appropriate for professional athletes who make millions of dollars.
Built-in cubbies—made from mahogany and polished to perfection—line the large rectangular space. A giant rug covers the center of the floor, featuring an eagle, of course. And the light that covers almost the entire ceiling is a huge Eagles logo. It’s one of the cooler dressing rooms I’ve seen in the NHL. And I appreciate how clean the staff keeps it for us. I should bring by some of the bread Farrah has made as a gift to the staff. Lord knows we have enough baked goods at home.
When I arrive at my cubby, I see the guys huddled together. Bruce is still in his pads and he’s whispering to West and Colby. Mitch is ignoring them, already showered, dressed, and making his way out of the dressing room and home to his fiancée.
Their heads pop up at the sound of my shower slides thwacking against my heels. Bruce stops talking instantly.
“What’s going on?” I ask, not used to being the one left out of conversations. I’m always the one the guys come to to spill their secrets and ask for advice. I’m just now realizing how much I like being in the know. A prickle of annoyance moves down my spine that they’re discussing something good without me.
Do I like drama? Hmm. Something to dissect later.
West and Colby smirk as their heads swivel in my direction.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” My shoulders tense. I really don’t like this.
Colby shrugs. “I find it interesting that you never introduced me to your sisters.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Colby has calmed down his roguish ways in the past few years and has become a whole new man since meeting his fiancée, but before, there wasn’t a chance in hell I would’ve let him anywhere near my sisters.
“I wasn’t purposefully keeping you all from meeting them, they just don’t come down here much. One is married and the other just got engaged.”
Bruce looks down at his pads, and West wallops him in the back of the head. “Dude. You can’t be talking about married women.”
Bruce throws up his hands. “She wasn’t wearing a ring!”
I arch a brow because he’s right—I noticed that as well. Farrah has always worn her ring, and until yesterday morning, I can’t remember ever seeing her without it since her wedding. Add that to the fact that I haven’t seen—or barely heard mention her husband—in almost a year? Very interesting.
“She was baking,” I answer, thinking that’s a pretty good excuse. What with the flour and dough and all that.
“I wasn’t trying to be a creep; I was just telling the guys I met your sister. And no disrespect, but she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I nod. Men are allowed to notice a woman being physically attractive. But is it weird that he’s talking about my sister in that regard? Yes.
“Okay. Fair.” I finish drying myself off and reach for my duffel bag. “But I think we can all agree that no matter how attractive, sisters are off-limits. Yeah?”
Bruce nods frantically, like he thinks I’m about to pummel his ass. Which is laughable because I’m not one of the fighters on the team. Now, if Mitch had a sister, this conversation would be going much differently.
West rolls his lips. “I mean, I married my best friends’ sister.”
Grabbing my clean clothes out of my bag, I slide on my underthings before unzipping the suit bag hanging in my cubby. “But Farrah is already married.” I think she is. “And heading back to Ohio tomorrow. So, it’s a moot point.”
Colby nods at my point. “True. Brucey, you can’t be admiring married women.”
Bruce sighs heavily, sitting on the bench in front of the cubby labelled with his name and un-velcroing his leg pads. “Point taken.” He glances up from his pads to me. “You don’t have any single sisters, do you?”
“No.” I roll my eyes.
“Bummer.”
The following morning, I’m exhausted. Game nights go late, and I had to be up at eight because Mom and Farrah head out today. Mom wants to get an early start; I think she and Dad are really missing each other.
