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“Fuck no. I’m a Calgary fan ’til the day I die.”
Anna sits in the chair I pulled out and wraps her hands around the mug. She lets out a soft sigh at the warmth against her skin and smiles. My chest nearly puffs at the satisfaction of knowing I put that look on her face.
“My brother-in-law plays for Ottawa,” she says, pride filling her eyes.
Mine simply widen. “Who?”
“Maddox Hutton.”
I whistle, rocking back in my chair. “Wow.”
“Are you a bit starstruck, superstar? Who would have thought you were capable of such humility.”
The jab is soft, not a pointed edge in sight. I wouldn’t have minded even if there was. The similarities between her and my texting buddy are blaringly apparent. So much so that I feel even more idiotic that I didn’t piece it together sooner. Neither Anna nor Banana was concerned with holding punches when it came to me. It was one of the reasons I liked them both so much.
I can’t help but wonder if she actually has started to piece it together too. That I’m the guy behind the texts. I knew the risk that came with showing up to help her earlier, but like hell I wasn’t going to come.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t want her to know. At least not yet. Maybe that’s why I haven’t told her the truth.
There’s a sense of safety that comes with talking to her via text without her knowing it’s me. I know that’s ridiculous. It doesn’t fully make sense to me, but there’s no changing the way I feel about it.
I can tell her things over text that I don’t feel comfortable enough to tell her in person. She doesn’t know who Bo is, and while it feels terrible to withhold the truth from her . . . I haven’t had this bubble of security in a long time. From anyone. I’m selfish enough to want to keep it for just a bit longer.
“You’re nearly related to one of the top players in the NHL. Do you blame me?”
“Oh, absolutely not. Be as awestruck as you want, just don’t act like this in his presence. He’ll never let anyone hear the end of it.”
I lean forward again with my hands fisted on the table, my next words coming out far throatier than I mean them to. “Plannin’ on bringin’ me home to the family, Anna?”
Pink splotches appear across her cheeks before she rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of her tea. It’s clear she expects it to be a distraction, but I don’t break eye contact with her, my question continuing to hang between us.
Finally, she sets down her mug. “What were you doing in town today? I didn’t think ranchers got days off.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“You’re going to smell like peppermint if you don’t stop picking on me.”
My smirk is sinister. “And why exactly would I smell like peppermint? Plannin’ on kissing me?”
“You’re unbearable,” she says, but there’s still no heat in her insult. “I was thinking more along the lines of dumping scalding tea over your head.”
I toss her a wink. “My grandparents would agree more often than not.”
“Your grandma seems really kind,” she says, leading the conversation away from the helpless flirting I suddenly can’t seem to put a stop to.
“She is. But don’t let that fool you. She can be cutthroat when she needs to be.”
“I’d think you’d have to be to put up with such a busy ranch. If the other people there are like you, I don’t envy her.”
“I’m sure there are few who could do what she does,” I agree.
“What about your mom? I’m sure she must be just as strong.”
The lingering ache that I’ve long since grown used to turns sharper, tearing a bit deeper at the question. I drop her gaze, focusing on the veterinarian logo on her coffee cup.
“You don’t have to answer that. I like to poke too far into people’s personal lives sometimes. I’m sorry,” she says, picking up on my every reaction.
I clear the emotion from my throat. “My mom passed when I was young. But yes, she was just as strong as my grandmother. Stronger.”
