Macie being Macie, she crosses her arms over her chest and doesn’t back down. “Are you going to win us a Cup this year? Because if not, I’m sure Johnson can step in as goalie.”
Miller lets out a low laugh, and Macie turns her fiery gaze his way.
“Your shots on goal were down last season, you know. You have no room to be laughing at him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and I swear he stands up straighter as if afraid of the nine-year-old.
Not that I’d entirely blame him. Macie can be quite scary at times. She’s got fire, that’s for sure.
“Macie May, you’re being rude.”
She puffs her chest out. “I’m being tough, like Coach Heller. One day, when I’m an NHL coach, my team is going to win just like this team will. Just wait and see.”
I love that she’s already planning to infiltrate a male-dominated industry. Hell, I just might believe she could do it too.
“You’re going to be a coach?” Greer challenges. “How about you get all your teeth before you start bossing people around, huh?”
Her stare could make grown men crumble to their knees.
But not Greer.
He just laughs, which fires her up even more. I feel like she’s about two seconds away from hauling off and kicking the guy when Stevie steps up to him.
“How about you stop picking on a little kid and maybe stop a puck or two, goalie?”
Greer’s eyes darken at her words, and a muscle begins to throb in his jaw. “That so?”
“Yep,” Stevie says, not backing down. It’s where Macie gets her spark from. My sister is one of the strongest women I know. She’s been through a lot, and I know she makes sure her kid is strong because of it. “That’s so.”
“Hmph.” Greer makes a non-committal noise, then turns to Miller. “Don’t forget to let Smith know about your…date.”
Stevie’s head whips my way, and I do my best to ignore the stare she’s sending me. I already know we’re going to be discussing this later, even though I have no clue what to tell her other than I’ve clearly lost my mind.
“Bye, Twerp,” he says to Macie.
She bares her teeth at him, staring him down until he’s in the parking lot, then she hitches her thumb over her shoulder toward him and says, “What’s up his ass?”
“Macie!” Stevie admonishes.
“What? You said I could say ass sometimes!”
“I said you could say jackass.”
“Fine. Then what’s up his jackass?”
“Oh my god. I swear, kid…” Stevie hangs her head, trying not to laugh. “Come on,” she says, nudging Macie. “Let’s go clean these tables up for Auntie Scout.” Stevie gives me a pointed look that says We’ll talk about this later, then begins picking up the mess the customers left behind.
When she and Macie are out of earshot, Miller turns to me.
“You can bail, you know. You didn’t have to do that and save me in front of Greer.” He drags his hand over the back of his neck, something I’ve noticed him do before. I wonder if it’s a nervous thing. “You don’t even know what it’s for, and I know you probably don’t want to spend time with me, and that’s fine. I get it, so you’re good. We’re good. You don’t have to go.”
“Are you finished?” I ask when he’s done rambling on.
He tips his head to the side. “Yes?”
“Good. Now, hush and tell me the details. I’m going to need to wear a fancy dress, I assume.”
“You’re…” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “You’re going? Are you sure?”
I lift a shoulder. “Sure. Why not? You bailed me out big-time today. I figure I owe you one. I’ll be your date, Miller—but as friends, nothing else.”
A slow, satisfied smile stretches across his face, and I have to fight back my own grin.
“Friends, huh?” he asks.
“Friends.” He fist-pumps the air several times, and I point at him. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Me? Never.”
Then he winks.
And I swear my crush grows just a little stronger.
“Please tell me this isn’t a joke and you actually are meeting the Grady Miller for a date?”
I sigh, pulling a shirt off the hanger. “It’s not a date. We’re just going shopping.”
“Right. For your date.”
I slip the mustard yellow t-shirt over my head, hiding my eye roll. It’s been four days since the Donut Day from Hell, and I still can’t believe I, Scout Thomas, made plans with Miller to go shopping.
Apparently, this event I’m attending with him is for a fundraiser that’s helping raise money to get hockey equipment and practice space for underprivileged areas. It brings in a lot of cash for a good cause sponsored by professional athletes, which means there are going to be a buttload of photographers there. Those were Miller’s words, not mine.
So, we’re dress shopping.
I told him I could find something to wear on my own just fine, but he refused to take no for an answer, insisting he was paying for the dress. Who am I to pass up free clothes?
Stevie throws herself back on my bed with a dreamy sigh. “My sister, dating a hockey star…who would have thought?”
“For the billionth time, we aren’t dating. It is one date, and it’s for charity, which means it doesn’t even count.”
“Yeah, but it could be the start of something.”
I bark out a laugh. “Ha. Not happening.”
“Why not?” She rolls onto her stomach and kicks her feet back and forth, watching as I yank and pull my jeans over my wide hips. “He’s not—”
“I know he’s not,” I cut her off. “But it’s not going to happen, so just drop it.”
She lifts her brows at my stern words. “Can I just say one last thing?”
I groan, knowing she’s not going to let it go. She never does, so I motion for her to speak.
“He’s nice.” I open my mouth to argue, but she holds her hand up. “Aside from that one stupid thing he did, he seems like a really good guy. He helped you run your truck. He—an actual NHL player—helped you run your truck when I’m sure he has a million other things to do. That is nice.”
I try to speak again, but she beats me to it.
“On top of all that…you like him. Hell, you’ve been crushing on him for like two years now. And sure, I know it’s mostly innocent, but why does it have to be? If he’s interested in you, go for it. He makes you smile. He makes you laugh. And honestly…” She looks pointedly at the stacks of romance novels scattered throughout my room. “You need a little something in your life to shake things up. You can’t hide forever.”
I follow her gaze, trying to see what my room looks like through her eyes. Probably sad and lonely and boring, even though it’s not.
I’m not ashamed of my reading habits. Hell, I could have much worse hobbies. But I also know at some point, I have to stop hiding behind the pages of a book and actually live, which is what she’s getting at.