“I’m good.” I glance over my shoulder and smile. “But if you want to grab us something to drink, that would be great. I’ll take a water, but I’ve got beer in the fridge if you want one.”
“Waters for both of us,” he announces, and I turn back to finish.
“Tell me about your day while I plate everything up,” I say, needing something to fill the silence.
“Oh, what a day,” Baden groans as a chair slides out. I look back at him as he plops down, setting both water bottles on the table. His eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head, as if to ward off any thoughts I might have that it was a bad day. “It was exhausting but thrilling at the same time.”
“More details than that,” I demand. Baden chuckles.
He proceeds to tell me about what sounded like amazing speeches by Brienne Norcross and Callum Derringer and a totally embarrassing attempt at team building by Coach Keller.
Excitement builds in his voice as he talks about his goalies and their first meeting, as well as how they reviewed their own films with him and discussed technique.
He sounds settled and happy, and it makes me happy.
I fix two beautiful plates of rare slices of prime rib with horseradish sauce, roasted garlic potatoes, and tender asparagus tips. I set our plates down on the table alongside previously set silverware and napkins.
“This looks amazing,” Baden murmurs, staring at the plate with genuine appreciation. “I don’t ever get food this good unless I’m in a fancy restaurant.”
“Good,” I reply as I take the adjacent chair. “Feeding people makes me feel good.”
Baden drapes his napkin over his lap and takes a knife and fork, poising it above the prime rib. “I’m going to pay you back and take you out to a nice meal. I’d offer to cook for you, but I suck at it.”
Laughing, I take my own knife and fork. “You don’t have to do that. I really enjoyed cooking this today.”
“I insist,” he replies as he cuts a piece of tender roast and dips it in the metal cup of horseradish sauce on the plate. “Besides, it will be fun. We’ll get all dressed up, plus it will get you out of the house.”
“Okay,” I murmur, working on cutting my own meat. Is that payback for a nice dinner, or is he talking about a date?
Ugh, get out of your own head, Sophie.
“I got some exciting news today,” Baden says, and that pops me out of my stupid thoughts.
“What’s that?”
“My friend Jenna—back in Arizona—she had a Zoom interview with Brienne Norcross today and was offered a job as a press liaison for the team. I talked to her on my way here, and she’s going to take it.”
I hate that my stomach sinks. I hate that he just told me he has a female friend and I immediately equated that to mean girlfriend. I hate that I take his excitement for her coming as a rejection of me.
I’m quite proud of myself that I manage an upbeat, supportive tone. “That’s awesome. Let me know what I can do to help get her settled.”
“Really?” Baden asks, surprise evident on his face.
“Of course,” I assure him, wondering how I built up an illusion of what we could be only to have it shattered so quickly and … painfully.
“That would be awesome, Sophie.” Baden takes a moment, slides a bite of prime rib into his mouth, and groans dramatically. He chews, swallows, and then gushes, “That may be the best prime rib I’ve ever tasted.”
“I doubt that,” I say with a dry smirk. I’m sure he’s eaten at some of the finest restaurants in the world.
“It is, I swear.” He cuts another piece but continues on about Jenna. “Anyway, I would love it if you would help me to help her transition. She’s the sister of the girlfriend of one of my teammates, and on the Vengeance, any family was like your own family. So she’s sort of like a little sister to me, and while I won’t tell you details—I’ll leave that up to her to share as I’m sure you two will become great friends—she and I have a bit in common when it comes to pain and recovery.”
A dozen emotions zap me all at once, but the biggest is relief that out of everything Baden just said, what I took from it is that Jenna isn’t a romantic interest.
A little sister is what he likened her to.
Crap… the part of my heart that might be hoping for something more than a friendship with Baden flutters again. I try to tell myself to stop it, but it won’t die down. He’s sparked something inside me, and I can’t seem to quell it.
“What about you?” Baden asks after a bite of potato. “How’s the job hunt going?”
“Crappy,” I mutter as I stab an asparagus tip. I wave it for punctuation. “I applied for a few remote jobs, but I’m not hopeful. They’re in areas I have no real experience.”
“You need to expand your horizons,” Baden says. “Maybe look for something that’s close to the house to help you get out a bit.”
I frown, pushing my food around before lifting my eyes to meet his. “It’s more than just me being afraid to go out. I actually know I have to do that, and maybe a new job is just the thing to make me do it. But… I honestly don’t know what I want to do.”
Baden goes still, pausing his knife and fork that have been working diligently on his meal. “What did you study in college? What were your dreams?”
I flush, hesitating before finally admitting, “I didn’t really have any. I just wanted to get a degree, and at the time I was in college, I was really into literature. Still am, for that matter, but I have an English degree I really don’t know what to do with.”
“Teacher?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t think I’m cut out for it. People who can teach are special, and I don’t think I have the passion for it.”
“Librarian?”
I shrug, spearing a potato. “Doesn’t speak to me. I mean… it could be cool, but it’s not something I’ve been dreaming about.”
Baden considers that and then resumes cutting his prime rib. “Okay, if you could have any career in the entire world at the snap of your fingers, without regard to experience, education, location, money… what would that career be?”
Not sure it’s really a dream, but I answer without hesitation. “An interior designer. But not the kind who just goes in and suggests wallpaper samples and furniture upholstery. More like going in to old houses and helping refinish things like flooring and crown moldings. Or updating spaces in old houses that manage to marry the historical period of the house with modern conveniences and materials. Like, I’d love to remodel an old Victorian or something.”
Baden stares at me and says nothing. He does it for so long, I get hot under the collar.
“What?” I demand to know his thoughts.
“That’s a dream,” he says emphatically. “You have a dream of what you want to do, and you didn’t even know it, did you?”
My brows knit in consternation. “I mean… it’s a ludicrous dream.”
“Why?”
I roll my eyes. “Because I have an English degree.”
“What the hell does that matter?”