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“It’s really good, Dad. You should try it,” Spencer said.
“I’m going to, but I’m minding my manners and not eating when we’re still talking to Shea.”
“Oh.” Spencer put his breadstick down.
“I have to get back to the kitchen,” I said. “Save room for dessert because your server will be bringing out flourless chocolate cake for you later. Both the cake and the grissini are off-menu items that we reserve for our most special guests.”
Spencer beamed at me. “Can I help in the kitchen tomorrow?”
“Sure. Can you come by around ten in the morning? We can make cookies.”
“Can I, Dad?” Spencer asked.
“I want to come, too,” Marley said.
“Are you sure you have time?” Holt asked me.
“Absolutely. And in the afternoon, there’s a birdhouse-building workshop for kids on the lawn if you guys have time.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Holt said. “Thanks, Shea.”
God, I liked it when he looked at me like that. Frankly, I liked it when he looked at me in any way. I felt a stab of guilt over my thirstiness because Holt was a newly divorced single dad. He was also a friend of my brother’s.
I could spend time with his children, but I had to keep my distance from him. The last thing I wanted was to complicate the life of a man who’d been put through an emotional wringer recently.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Holt
“This is unreal,” I said as I looked at the wood-framed walls of the Sven’s Beard Youth Hockey Complex. “The snack bar is bigger than the locker room in the old facility.”
“They’ll still sell the same hot dogs, though,” Grady said. “I made sure of that.”
I shook my head and nudged him. “Working on a happily married pot belly already? You guys haven’t even said your vows yet.”
“I never gave a shit about washboard abs. Avon says I have a man-bear bod.”
Grady’s best friend Coulter snorted with laughter. “That’s because you’re so hairy, man.”
Grady silently flipped him off. Times hadn’t changed; we’d all given each other endless shit when playing sports together growing up.
“Sorry I’m late,” Keller said, putting on a hard hat as he approached us. “I was delayed taking off in New York because of a storm.”
“We were just giving Holt a tour,” Grady said.
“I’m sure he told you we’ll still have the same hot dogs,” Keller said wryly.
I laughed and nodded. “He mentioned it, yeah.”
A man in jeans, work boots, a T-shirt and a hard hat approached us. “Hey, how’s it going?”
Keller shook his hand and said, “Holt, this is Frank McMahon. He’s the on-site foreman. If you ever have questions, he’s the one you want to find. Frank, this is”
Frank reached for my hand. “Shit, man, I know who this is. Holt, I’m a big fan. My nephews and I have followed you your whole career, and now they’ll get to be coached by you. It’s a real honor.”
It was the first time since coming back to the Beard that anyone had recognized me more for my years in hockey than for being a native.
“Honor’s mine,” I said, shaking his hand. “You guys are doing an incredible job here.”
