Disappointment rolled through him. “Already?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said, pulling a container of mints out of her purse and popping one into her mouth. “I’ve got a meeting with a potential client first thing in the morning and I’ve got to prep for it. I hadn’t anticipated being out this late. I sure enjoyed myself though.”
He considered trying to sway her into staying, but after what he’d just experienced with her, he was sure nothing he said would convince her to do something she didn’t want to.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, moving over to the table and picking up his phone. “Would you at least give me your number?”
One corner of her mouth lifted. “Now that’s the question you should’ve asked during our game.”
He just stared at her. She leaned up and pressed her lips against his cheek.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said.
He watched in disbelief as she headed for the door. “But…seriously? You’re not going to give me your number?”
She paused with her hand on the door handle. “A woman has to have some element of mystery about her, Callan. It keeps things interesting.”
He couldn’t think of a thing to say to that. Whatever she read in his expression had her chuckling.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “Since you bought me dinner and played a respectable game of pool, I’ll leave you with this: my last name is Wagner. If you’re genuinely interested in more than a casual hookup, Mr. Hockey, figure out how to find me.”
Chapter Eight
“Hazel, be a dear and check on the pirogo,” Roxy’s mother said as she set the coffeepot to brew.
“Sure, Mama.”
Roxy glanced over from her position by the sink and watched her sister-in-law open her mother’s oven to see how dessert was coming along. The delicious aroma of the baked pirogo filled the kitchen.
“Two more minutes,” Hazel declared, closing the oven door and entering the time on the egg timer next to the stove.
“Perfect.” Roxy’s mother opened the cabinet next to the coffeepot and started pulling down cups and saucers. “Nora, would you get a headcount on coffee for me?”
“Of course, Mama,” another of Roxy’s sisters-in-law replied before heading out to the family room where numerous voices competed to be heard above the television.
Roxy returned her attention to the sink as another of her brothers’ wives, Jane, handed her the pot she had just washed. Their family dinner had finished nearly an hour before. Since then, the females had collected in the kitchen, not just to help with the cleaning, but to get away from the testosterone and screaming children in the other room.
“Last one,” Jane said as she scrubbed the bottom of a particularly nasty pot.
Wincing, Roxy said, “Yeah…sorry about that. I really shouldn’t have been left to monitor the gravy.”
“We’re all to blame,” Jane said. “We should know better.”
They shared a laugh. Roxy’s absolute lack of talent in the kitchen was an ongoing family joke. It was also a source of dismay to her mother, who took pride in her cooking abilities.
“You’ll never find a husband if you can’t feed him,” her mother liked to say.
“Then I’ll have to find one who can feed me,” Roxy always countered.
Of her four sisters-in-law, Roxy got along best with Jane. But she really did adore all of them.
Jane was married to Roxy’s second-oldest brother, Bradley. They’d been married for seven years and had two kids. She was a substitute teacher at their kids’ school and recently started writing a book about Roma culture with the hope of becoming a published author. She was smart, open-minded, and delightfully sarcastic, three of Roxy’s favorite traits in a person.
Nora had been married to Roxy’s oldest brother, Michael, for twelve years. They had four children whom Nora was dedicated to raising. When the occasion called for it, she helped out with some of the administrative tasks at the family’s auto shop Michael managed. She also did a great deal of volunteer work around the community, something everyone in their family supported. While Nora tended to be on the conservative and serious side, she gave the best advice of anyone in the family—outside of Roxy’s mother and grandmother, of course.
Roxy’s brother Gordon had married his wife Hazel almost nine years ago. They had three kids and she recently announced she was pregnant with their fourth. She worked part time in the front office of the family’s second auto shop, which Gordon managed. Hazel was incredibly sweet, more than a little naïve, and the kindest person Roxy had ever met. The family often found themselves collecting around her to absorb some of her positivity while at the same time trying to protect her from the world.
The fourth of her sisters-in-law, Stella, was the newest addition to the group. She had been married to Roxy’s youngest brother, Jeremy, for four years. After struggling to conceive, they had undergone fertility treatments and were finally blessed with the sleeping four-month-old cherub currently being cradled against Roxy’s grandmother’s chest where they sat in the kitchen nook.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help, Mama?” Stella asked. “I feel fat and lazy.”
Roxy’s mother walked over to Stella and bent down to kiss her forehead. “You’re beautiful, and you need your rest. I don’t know how you’re balancing a career with a newborn.”
Stella was a veterinarian who had opted to return to work part-time when her daughter Evelyn turned three months old. It was clear to Roxy, at least, that her sister-in-law was feeling the strain. Her brown eyes had dark smudges under them and she yawned twice as much as anyone else. But she appeared content.
“She’s doing an amazing job,” Roxy’s grandmother said with a wink at Stella, who smiled.
“Thanks, Daj.”
Everyone called Roxy’s grandmother Daj. It was the Roma word for mother, and as the matriarch of the family, it suited her perfectly.
The egg timer buzzed. Hazel hurried to silence it as the baby stirred.
“Whoops,” she said as she reached for an oven mitt. “I guess I should’ve just watched the clock. Sorry, Stella.”
Stella masked a yawn behind her hand and said, “Don’t worry about it. If Evie isn’t bothered by that ruckus in the other room, that little timer won’t wake her. Trust me, she’s going to sleep until one a.m. and then be wide awake until three.”
Roxy was exhausted just thinking about it.
“Let me get that, Hazel,” her mother insisted, taking the oven mitt from her. “This is a heavy casserole dish.”
“Okay, Mama.”
Nora returned as Roxy’s mother pulled the heavenly smelling dessert out of the oven. “Seven of us for coffee, Mama. You’re having some, right, Rox?”
“You bet.”
“Okay. I’ll start setting the cups on the table.”
“Thanks, Nora,” Roxy’s mother said. “Oh, Hazel, I should have thought to brew some decaf for you.”
“That’s all right. This one doesn’t like coffee,” she said, patting her still-flat belly.