Page 39 of Off the Post

And then someone like Ali comes along, and I want the entire five-course meal.

19

Ali

I may be putting all the finishing touches together for Tanner’s BBQ and pool party, but my thoughts haven’t strayed too far from the gorgeous goalie who has occupied my mind since our lunch earlier in the week.

Keeping busy has been the name of the game for me, and although Tanner said he had everything “taken care of,” there was no way I was going to entrust my brother to host this party on his own. Let’s be serious: His idea of preparation is grabbing a few bags of chips, some gallon tubs of dip, and three cases of beer and calling it good.

That kind of lazy-ass prep isn’t going to fly, not while I’m living in his condo. I have too much of an obsession for organizing events to allow for a half-ass job on my watch. It is my job, after all.

Plus, Soren said he would be here today, and I want to show off a bit. Not that I expect him to be overly impressed with my decorating skills or my charcuterie board design, but it’s something I enjoy doing. It’s important to me to know that all the details have been considered.

This is a trait I learned from my mom. As far back as I can remember, she’s been one of the best hostesses there was in her circle of friends. She loves hosting events—no matter how big or how small. Whatever the reason, season, or event, whether it was a monthly book club or a PTA meeting, she’d be the first to offer to host it. She also managed to throw the best holiday and birthday parties a kid could ever want, somehow finding a way of stretching out her meager budget to always make them seem extravagant.

Everyone raves about a Deborah St. Francis party.

She passed that love on to me, and it’s why, I suppose, that I ended up here in Vancouver, working for my notoriously obnoxious but lovable brother’s foundation.

“What the hell is this?” the man in question asks, dragging a piece of pita bread through the dip, a glob of it dropping on the counter in front of him. “It’s delicious!”

“Tanner, that’s for your guests,” I scold. I expressly forbade him from eating any of the food I placed out in advance of the party, but did he listen? No, of course not.

I reach for a paper napkin to clean off the goopy greenish mess and then toss it in the trash next to the island.

“It’s spicy avocado hummus.” I move some of the bowls and plates around to make them more aligned. The action has me grinning at the memory of Soren and our lunch date. “And thank you. It’s my special recipe.”

Tanner chomps down the bit of bread and goes for a second. This time, I’m quick to expect it and slap his hand. “No double-dipping, bro. That’s gross.”

He grunts. “My house. My rules.”

When he tries to go for it again, I give him a playful shove. “Maybe, but it’s my dip. So make yourself scarce.” I try to swat him away, but he gives me a look of defiance and throws his arms out in a handy octopus move. I laugh because there’s no way of defeating him.

“Ali-kins, it’s so freaking good. Are you like magic or something? I never saw you do any of this.” Tanner gestures to the array of food dishes and appetizers, swiping another chip that I’m too slow to intercept.

“Mostly while you were at the gym,” I say, remembering that I need to find his cooler so I can add the ice and beverages. “By the way, your credit card is back in your wallet. And I have the receipts if you need them.”

He waves me off. “Don’t need it. I just appreciate you doing all this. The guys are gonna be impressed.”

I grin with delight and take one last glance around to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. “Good. By the way, can you get that large cooler down so I can get drinks chilled before everyone gets here? What time do you expect people to start showing up?”

“I told them any time after noon is good. But some may show up later.”

As if right on cue, Tanner’s doorbell rings. I nearly jump out of my skin, my stomach in knots with anticipation that Soren may come walking through that door any moment.

The nerves spooling inside my belly can only be described as a welcome sense of excitement.

Tanner wipes his hands on the napkin I hand him and lumbers over to the door barefoot, his bright orange and blue swim trunks hanging low on his hips. I quickly tidy up the specks of food and crumbs he left behind and adjust my cover-up that hangs to mid-thigh.

I have my bright sunflower yellow bikini on underneath, figuring I’ll float in the pool if I have the chance. While I don’t swim, I’ve been eyeing that inflatable rubber ducky since the day Tanner stole it from our photoshoot. It would be fun to just lounge in the sunshine, floating around on that big, giant yellow duck on this hot summer day.

From down the long corridor, I see Tanner standing at the open door and welcoming his friend with a one-armed hug. I let out the breath I was holding when he steps to the side and I see Vikings captain Cale Costa enter with a striking dark-haired woman who I believe is his new wife.

When I was planning the calendar shoot, Tanner mentioned that Cale would be in the US for a few weeks visiting his wife and her family and therefore unavailable for that event. I asked why Cale’s wife wasn’t up here in Vancouver, and Tanner said that she lived in the States to get treatment. But asking Tanner to elaborate on anything that isn’t related to hockey is like trying to squeeze orange juice from a banana.

A few others filter in behind Cale, including Nils Lundren and his wife, Helena, a tall, leggy blonde. They are obviously Scandinavian with their light skin tones, bright blue eyes, and blond locks. I wait to see if anyone else comes in behind him, but when Tanner closes the door, my heart sinks a little. None of them are Soren.

Putting on my game face, I walk past the kitchen island and toward the guests now milling around in the living room and smile a welcoming greeting.