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Kingston surveys the bar. “I’d love a glass of milk, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, please, ma’am.”
“Oh my God, that’s awesome.” She throws back her head and laughs, but when none of us join in, she stops. “Wait. Are you serious?”
Kingston’s ears go red, and he slips his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “Yes, ma’am, but I can have water if that’s not possible.”
“We have milk, but you have to stop calling me ma’am. You’re making me feel old.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I mean Mrs. Waters. It’s a habit and not meant as an insult.”
Violet turns to Rook. “Is this guy for real?”
“Kingston is from Tennessee. They’re bred with manners down there,” Rook explains. His gaze slides to me. “Most of the time, anyway.”
“Maybe you should introduce him to your sister. It’s Evie, right?”
“Stevie,” Rook and I say at the same time.
Violet gives me a questioning look, and Rook pins me with a glare.
“She doesn’t date hockey players.” Rook directs the comment at me.
So of course I respond. “Does Stevie know you dictate who she can and can’t date?”
Rook sneers. “I don’t dictate anything for Stevie. That’s her choice. She doesn’t like the attention that comes with someone in the media spotlight, which includes my teammates.”
“Not all of us live in the spotlight, though,” I argue, which is an admittedly stupid thing to do.
Rook shrugs. “She just got out of a long-term relationship. It wasn’t an easy breakup, and she’s not ready to get into another one.”
“Okay, well, I guess no introductions for you, then.” Violet points at Kingston. “Which is too bad, because she’s stunning and good with kids, from what Lainey tells me. And you look like the kind of guy who probably wants to have at least a dozen children.”
“I have a girlfriend, and she’s not ready for kids yet.” Kingston runs a hand over his chest and looks down at his outfit. “But twelve would be a lot.”
“Sure would, but making them is fun.” Violet grabs the milk from the fridge. “Is two percent okay?”
“Yes, ma’am . . . I mean Mrs. Waters.”
“Please, call me Violet.” She pours him a pint glass of milk and slides it across the counter.
Alex comes up behind his wife and kisses her on the cheek. “Kingston, Winslow, glad you could make it. It’s good to see you on your feet! Injury’s healing great, I hear.”
That must mean he’s spoken to my therapist after today’s session.
“That’s ’cause he’s pulling double PT.” Rook takes a hefty sip of his beer.
“Double PT? With the team therapist?” Alex’s brows pull down. “He didn’t mention that.”
Shit. Well, now I know exactly what Stevie told him last night.
“With my sister,” Rook says flatly.
“I thought she was working at the college clinic. Did she change her mind and decide she wanted you to put in the recommendation? I would’ve put in a word if I’d known.”
“She’s still working with the college clinic.” He tips his chin in my direction. “Bishop here thought he would take it upon himself to coerce her into helping him out so he could get back on the ice sooner.”
“She offered. There wasn’t any coercion, ’cause you know she thinks for herself.”
Alex looks between us and claps Rook on the shoulder. “Why don’t the three of us take this conversation to my office?”
Rook rounds the counter without another word, and I follow him and Alex out of the kitchen and down the hall. The high pitch of children’s voices comes from somewhere close by. We pass an actual movie-theater-style room, complete with rows of seats that look way more comfortable than any theater I’ve ever been to. A Disney movie is playing, and kids are jumping from seat to seat, not paying attention to what’s on the screen.
Alex’s office is actually more like a library with a desk. There’s a couch and club chairs. Pillows, blankets, a table lamp, and a stack of books take up one end of the couch. Based on the covers, I’m assuming they’re Violet’s books.
Alex motions for us to take a seat. “Scotch?”
“Please.” Rook downs the rest of his beer in one gulp.
I hold up my mostly full bottle. “I’m good with this, thanks.”
He turns his back and pours expensive scotch into lowball glasses. He passes one to Rook and one to me, even though I declined. I’m not going to say no twice, so I take it.
Alex settles into the chair across from us and sips his scotch pensively. Then he stares at us for what seems like forever until he finally speaks. “Violet’s brother was on my team when she and I started dating.”
“I’m not dating Stevie. She’s helping me with PT.” I keep saying this, and no one is listening. Would I like her to help me with other things? Like some relief for the perpetual hard-on I’m always fighting off when I’m with her? Of course. She’s hot and I’m full of testosterone. But at this point what I’m saying is true.
