EXCERPT OF KITTY VALENTINE DATES A HOCKEY PLAYER
CHAPTER ONE
“Kitty, it’s been months,” my best friend, Hayley, says into the phone.
“So? I don’t wanna,” I whine.
“Look, I know your head has been all over the place for the last few months, but you have to get out of your funk and out of your apartment.”
“Fine,” I huff. “I’ll meet you, but I want extra cheese on my nachos, and there’d better be a large drink waiting for me when I get there.”
“You got it. See you later, Kitty.”
“Bye,” I grumble into the phone after she’s already disconnected.
I’m not really in the mood to get together for drinks with Hayley tonight. I know what she’s going to pester me about, and I’m not a fan of being pestered in general.
I’m especially not a fan of being pestered about my work. I mean, do I show up at her office and demand she file a new brief or whatever it is she does? I don’t know the first thing about the intricacies of being a lawyer, but that’s a word she uses a lot, so I’m going to imagine she files a lot of them.
This past year and a half has been a whirlwind. I’ve been writing different tropes to stay relevant, and that’s not all. I’ve actually dated a guy from each trope, determined by a handy-dandy spinner Hayley created, and I’m so very much over it.
It isn’t the mechanics of putting a new book together that has me dragging my feet on the way to what I suspect isn’t going to be a very happy, happy hour. It’s the emotional toll. It’s everything that goes on behind the scenes, where my heart is dragged through the mud on a consistent basis.
I really don’t feel like dating anybody new just so I can write a new book. And I certainly don’t need to be reminded of how I’m neglecting my career by essentially going on hiatus.
So, who can blame me for not exactly floating out of my apartment with wings on my heels? Hayley has been so busy lately that I know if she’s this determined to get together, it’s time for me to spin the wheel again. I get the sneaking suspicion that Maggie is behind this.
My editor has been terrific in letting me take the last six months off, but I knew the day would come when I’d have to get back to it. And she’s probably making Hayley do her dirty work. How she ever got Hayley’s number, I’ll never know, but I wish it would get deleted from her phone. I hate that they discuss my choice of men behind my back. I’m pretty sure there’s some law being broken here.
I grab my purse and open the door to leave. As I step out into the hallway, the sound of Phoebe whining fills the air.
Phoebe doesn’t typically whine. My super-hot, super-confusing neighbor Matt has a lot of flaws, but he’s nothing if not a devoted dog owner. And since he works from home like I do, sweet Phoebe rarely suffers from loneliness.
I knock on the door. “Matt? You in there?”
No answer, but Phoebe’s whining is becoming louder and more insistent. I don’t remember hearing him leave the apartment, but it’s unusual for Phoebe to make all this noise.
Which is why I go back into my apartment and grab the key to Matt’s place from the kitchen drawer.
“Wellness check,” I call out while sliding the key into his lock. I sincerely hope he isn’t in the middle of something embarrassing—though really, I wouldn’t mind having a reason to tease him for a while. He’s always the one teasing me, if not openly making fun of me.
Phoebe just about knocks me down when I step into the apartment. Good thing I’m not wearing a new outfit since she practically tackles me to the floor. “Okay, okay! Where’s your daddy?”
As if in reply, a loud snore comes from the bedroom. It’s just past six o’clock at night, way too early for him to have gone to bed unless he’s sick.
A quick peek into the bedroom tells me that’s exactly the situation, and all I can do is shake my head at the sight of a nightstand piled high with balled-up tissues, bottles of cold and flu medicine, and even a jar of eucalyptus rub. I didn’t think people used that anymore.
No wonder poor Phoebe is dancing around the way she is. Hayley’s going to have to get started without me.
I hook on Phoebe’s leash and get her outside, barely crossing the street into the park before she takes care of business.
“You really had to go, didn’t you? You’re such a good girl.” I scratch behind her ears and try not to read too much into the way she looks up at me. Like she’s never been so relieved. “I think that means you get an extra treat when we go inside.”
Matt is sleeping when I return with the dog. Now, I know he is truly sick, and I can’t help but feel a little sympathetic. In all the time we’ve been friends, I’ve never seen him like this. He’s usually snarky and full of energy to pick on me. But now, he looks so helpless.
Which is why I leave a note by his bed, letting him know I walked the dog and that I’ll be back with supplies.
For a second, I consider adding a postscript, asking how he manages to still look so good when he’s clearly sick. It doesn’t seem fair. Even with a couple of days of scruff on his cheeks and hair that looks like it hasn’t been washed in way too long, he’s like an angel.
And of course, I can’t believe I’m even thinking that as I stare at him. So sweet and peaceful. I’m trying my best to keep us at a platonic friendship, but each day, it gets harder and harder.
And that, in a nutshell, is my current problem.
After dating several men to gain new experiences so I could write about different tropes—and up the sex appeal in my stories—Matt messed everything up.
Because ever since he kissed me a few months ago, I haven’t been able to even think about dating anybody else seriously. Not for the sake of a book.
But I haven’t figured out a way to tell my editor this. Which means I’m off to meet Hayley to spin the wheel yet again. Even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
I give Phoebe a kiss on the head before she climbs into bed with Matt, settling in at his feet. “You take care of him while I’m gone,” I whisper as I slip out of his bedroom and lock up his front door.
At least I know he’s not alone.
A while later, I give Hayley a breathless kiss on the cheek before I slide into the booth, sitting across from her. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay very long. I think Matt is really sick.”
She listens, lips pursed thoughtfully, while I fill her in on what I found before meeting up with her.
“It seems like he’s been taking care of himself just fine without your help,” she concludes once I’m finished.
“Sure, the poor dog’s bladder almost exploded. He’s definitely managing well. I wonder how long he’s been feeling like this. I should’ve known, come to think of it. I haven’t seen him for a few days. Maybe I should keep Phoebe with me until he’s feeling better. That way, she won’t wake him up, though if she didn’t manage it earlier with all her whining …”
“You realize you’re making his problem your problem, right?”
I lean back in the booth, folding my arms. “Okay, counselor, let’s hear it. You might as well lay it on me.”