Page 35 of Pucking Good Girl

“You can make me brownies anytime.” I smile. “I’m still dreaming about the ones you brought to the library.”

“Oh, yeah? Wait until you’ve tried my lasagna.”

The vibe between us returns to flirty and easy. “You’re speaking my language now. My mom’s cooking is the thing I miss the most since I don’t live at home anymore.”

Talia nods. “I’m lucky that my parents are local, I guess. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to start college thousands of miles away from home.”

“Oh, by last year I was used to being away from my parents,” I offer. “I went into a hockey development program during my high school years. It was in Canada.”

Her eyes widen. “Did you go to boarding school? I can’t imagine you lived by yourself as a high school freshman.”

“No,” I explain. “The whole program was built around hockey. I still had classes and homework, but everything revolved around being on the ice and training. I lived with a billet family. The dad was one of my dad’s old teammates. They were great, but I missed my family.”

“Especially your mom’s cooking, apparently.” Talia giggles.

“You got that right. My billet mom didn’t cook. It was frozen dinners and pizza if we were lucky. So any time you feel like cooking for me, you’ll make me more than happy.”

There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Hopefully my cooking will live up to your expectations.”

“If those brownies are anything to go by, I’m in for a treat.”

Silence descends between us, and I realize that we’ve kept walking, and the restaurant is nothing more than a small shape in the distance. We aren’t that far from the shortcut we took the night we met. The lights of the pier are like a beacon in the opposite direction from where we came.

“I know we both have early starts tomorrow,” she says, breaking the silence. “But I’m not ready to go home. Do you want to walk a little?”

“Yeah,” I’m quick to agree. “I don’t want tonight to end yet. Lead the way.”

The place we’re at might bring memories of the night we met, but this time I lace my fingers through hers as we stroll toward the end of Star Cove’s old marina.

“I like it here,” I look at the quaint little establishments peppering the area. Most places are closed by this time of night. “It has an old world feel to it. It reminds me of Italy or Spain.”

Talia’s smile is wistful. “I’ve never left California. All I’ve seen of Europe is on TV or online. But if that’s what it reminds you of, the mayor did a good job here.”

“How so?”

Talia explains how this area had become dilapidated as the town outgrew the size of the old harbor. “All the businesses, including the Country and Yacht Club, moved closer to the new port, and this area was abandoned for years. But the new mayor decided to revive it by encouraging new businesses to open here. The project isn’t completed yet, but I think it’s becoming quite pretty.”

“It is,” I agree. “We’ve been here before, right?” I ask pointing out the bridge we’re about to walk under.

“Yeah. This is the old marina bridge.” We walk under one of the wide arches of the bridge. “It was built over two hundred years ago when the sea covered this area. Boats would travel under these arches.”

I look up at the dark bricks above my head. “Really?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but there are photos in the town’s old archives of boats fishing under this bridge. Things changed when the old port was expanded, which I guess back then was the new port. The town was expanding and extensive works were carried out to reclaim this land from the sea. At some point, there were railway tracks on the bridge. I mean, they are still there, but they aren’t used anymore.”

“That’s fascinating.” I muse, and I mean it.

Learning about Star Cove, seeing its history through Talia’s eyes, makes it feel special.

But nothing compares to the feeling of her hand in mine. Of the warmth radiating from her body as we both look at the high arch above our heads.

A gust of sea breeze blows in our direction, making Talia shudder. I can see tiny goosebumps appearing all over her arms.

The night was warm and mild, despite it being October, and I didn’t bring a jacket to offer her to shield her from the cool air that’s causing the temperature to drop by a few degrees.

I do the next best thing and wrap my arms around her.

“You’re warm,” the top of her head is right under my chin and her arms surround my waist as she hugs me back.