October
Do I believe for one small second that Brandon Cannon, right winger extraordinaire and my very best friend since childhood, is ready to give up the puck bunnies and settle down with a soon to be medical school student?
Uh, how about no, with a capital N.
Which raises the question: why the hell did I agree to be his wingman? Or why am I showing my good friend Naomi Sanders that he’s a real catch and that she should give the well-known player—on and off the ice—a chance?
Brain tumor?
Honestly, is there any other explanation? Maybe there’s one, and I can’t even believe I’m admitting this to myself after all these long and painful years of doing ‘buddy’ things with Brandon. But I, Daisy Reed of sound mind and memory, have been in love, for as long as I can remember, with none other than Brandon Cannon.
Okay, there. I said it, and the next thing I need to do is go for a brain scan. I mean, come on, we’re talking about a guy who made me eat dirt, a guy who tricked me into touching a fish’s eyeball. A FISH’S EYEBALL, for God’s sake!
Yeah, he did those things when we were kids. But you know what? He also did good things…great things, even. Like when we were teens on vacation at Wautauga Beach, Washington, where our families had cabins. He saved my ass the night I went to a party at Sebastian Wilson’s house. I wasn’t allowed to go to the rowdy party at the end of the beach, but I snuck away and did it anyway. When I drank too much, I called Brandon for help. He pretended to be sick right along with me—saying we both ate bad pepperoni on our pizza—claiming it gave us food poisoning. He took me home, and fortunately my parents bought the bad pepperoni story. Brandon stayed in the spare room that night, and kept checking on me every few hours. How could I not love him, right?
So, I guess I owe him this, and despite how much it’s going to break my heart to see him with my friend Naomi, Brandon and I don’t stand a chance at a future. You see, he friend zoned me a long time ago. I was the only girl allowed in his tree house and the blanket tent, and while I thought it was cool back then, I realize now that the guys all thought of me as one of them. The boobs and the hips that came along later… they didn’t faze them one bit.
So here we are many years later, sitting at the Tap Room, the local student drinking hole, after my kick-ass hockey game, where I scored two goals, and the guys—my buddies—are all ruffling my hair and telling me I did a great job. I keep scanning the place for Naomi. She had to run home after the game and said she’d meet me here later. Little does she know I’m Brandon’s wingman and I’m going to try to set them up. Does that make me a bad friend? I guess not, especially if they end up married with kids.
Why does that thought bring pain to my stomach? Oh right…because I love him and never in this lifetime will he be mine.
As I swallow, hard, my friend Alysha nudges me. “Are you okay? You’re quiet tonight.”
I snort. I get it. I’m never quiet. “Just tired,” I tell my new roommate. Alysha used to live with Piper, but moved out when Piper got together with Beck. Alysha came here from The Hampton’s to study dance, and I like her a lot. She doesn’t date, and is practically engaged to a boy back home. She never talks about him, which I find a bit weird. I also find it a bit strange how she’s always stealing glances at Ryan. It makes me wonder if—
“I can imagine you’re tired,” Alysha says, cutting into my thoughts as she raises her beer glass and I click mine to it. “You kicked ass tonight, girlfriend.”
I smile. While I do love hockey—heck, my dad was in the NHL—a future in the sport isn’t for me. Over the summer, I spent every spare moment studying for the six-hour medical entrance exam. It’s no wonder I’m exhausted. But it was worth it because I passed. Now I, along with Naomi, wait for the results of our interviews and whether we’ve been accepted or not, and I’m nervous as hell. I hold my hands out and examine my nails, which are faring worse than my nerves. I bring my fingers to my mouth and, catching me by surprise, my hand is slapped away from my face.
“What the—”
I look up and find Brandon shoving everyone away so he can sit next to me. “Stop biting your damn nails,” he warns for the millionth time, and plunks down next to me, like a bull in a china shop. I shove him, but it does nothing to budge his powerful body as his hard thigh squishes the side of mine.
I shove him again. I realize it’s futile, and can’t help but think I’m doing it just to touch him. Yes, my friends, I am that pathetic. “Move.”
He shifts, and scrubs his hand over his face, and I try to ignore the little shivers rushing over my skin as his scruff of a beard makes a little rustling sound that vibrates through me. It’s a familiar habit and I wish I didn’t like it so much.
“Hey, Duke.”
“B,” I respond. We’ve been calling each other by our nicknames for as long as I can remember. I’m still not sure why he calls me Duke. Maybe it’s because he simply sees me as one of the guys, and Daisy is too flowery a name for me. Yeah, we’ll never be an item, that’s for sure.
But I can’t think about that right now, not when he’s practically sitting on me, and I like it. I take a quick breath at his closeness and try to pull off casual, but his warm familiar scent of fresh soap and something uniquely Brandon curls around me and messes with my hormones. Good lord, when I’m around him I’m like a dim-witted moth. Not that he’d notice and maybe I’d be horribly embarrassed if he did. When push comes to shove, the last thing in the world I want is to risk losing his friendship. He means everything to me.
“Why are you chewing your nails again?” He takes my hand in his, and his stupid warmth invades my skin and curls around my heart. “I told you, you’ll get into medical school.” I nod, and he goes quiet, thoughtful before adding, “Want to do something next Wednesday? Go shopping or something? Grab dinner?”
My throat tightens. God, he can be so darn sweet. Next Wednesday is when the interview results come in and I find out if I’ve been accepted to Dalhousie Medical School here in Halifax. I hadn’t mentioned it to him in ages, I don’t want to think about it, but he didn’t forget the date.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I reply casually. “But you might be on a date with Naomi that day.”
His face lights up. “She said yes, she’ll go out with me?”
“I’m still working on it. You have a reputation that a professional PR firm with years to spare would have a hard time cleaning up. You gave me—a girl who knows nothing about PR—one week to sell you to Naomi.” It was at Piper’s birthday celebration that Brandon set eyes on Naomi, and I foolishly agreed to help set them up. Not because I don’t think they’ll be good together, but because maybe he is ready to settle down, and they might be a great couple. Could I be any more of a masochist?
He takes a swig of beer and a fat drop clings to his bottom lip. He swipes it away with the back of his hand and I try not to stare at his mouth or think about how many times I wondered what it would be like to kiss him—on his lips. Yes, we cheek kiss me all the time. We’re pals like that.
“She’s not into hookups, B.” I stare at him, gauging his reaction, and for a moment he seems like he’s a million miles away. “B?”
“Yeah.”
“She’ll want to go to nice places—places that aren’t your bedroom.”
“Are you saying my bedroom isn’t nice?”
“It’s disgusting, but that’s another story.”
He toys with the label on his beer bottle, his big fingers tugging at the paper and I try not to imagine them toying with my panties in much the same manner.
He arches a brow, looking totally offended. “Then you’re saying you think I don’t know how to treat a girl.”
“Fish eyeballs!” I shoot back.
He laughs. “Well, okay, maybe you’re right. I guess it’s good that I have you. To get insider information, so I don’t mess this up.”
“Insider information?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, find out what she likes, what she doesn’t…things like that.”
“You’ve really never been on a real date before?” I ask even though I already know he hasn’t. He shakes his head. “The first thing you need to know is that on a real date, with a girl you like, you have to put real work in, B. It doesn’t just come to you. I realize you had it easy, girls throwing themselves at you, but this is different. Naomi isn’t a puck bunny, infatuated with you.” How crazy is it that I’m giving advice when I haven’t been on a real date either? But I’m a girl, one who doesn’t sleep with hockey players, and I know how I’d want to be treated, so maybe I can be of value to him. Okay, and maybe there’s a secret girly part that would like to go on a real date with him.
He nods this time and when a plate of cheesy fries is set on the table, he snags one. I try not to stare at his mouth as he takes a bite and holds the cheesiest part out for me. I open my mouth and he feeds it to me.
“You never did tell me what you wanted in return for your help,” he reminds me.
The only thing I want in return is him and I can’t have it. I sigh and say, “To see you happy, B.” He smiles at me, and while this might sound cliché, the truth is, it truly takes my breath away. His hand goes to his temple and he rubs slightly and I narrow my eyes as he frowns. “Are you okay?”
He plasters on a smile, and while it looks genuine, I know him well enough to know something is bothering him. Is he worried about making it into the NHL? Most of the guys are, but most of the guys don’t have the kind of pressure Brandon does. His father was one of the greats and Brandon is expected to follow in his footsteps.
“I’m fine,” he answer cheerily, and leans into me again. “What about you?” I’m fully aware that he’s changing the subject and I’m about to call him on it until he shifts ever so closer and my brain nearly shuts down. Geez, I wish he’d cut it out—I think. “What can I do to make you happy?”
God, if he only knew.
“Naomi is here,” I say instead of answering and I lift my hand to wave her over. She comes toward me, dressed in a long pantsuit that looks amazing on her lithe body. Her hair is loose, framing her pretty face, and her makeup is absolutely on point. Everything about her reminds me I have no game—outside of the rink. I do, however get asked out a lot, but I’m beginning to believe it’s a competition between the guys now. I shove Brandon. “Go. I can’t say nice things about you if you’re sitting right here.”
He leans in and gives me a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Duke.”
“Yeah, yeah, now go.”
He stands and everyone grumbles and pushes him as he ambles his way from the booth. He heads to the bar, where our friend Ryan Potter is sitting, and Naomi moves in beside me to take Brandon’s place.
“Great game tonight,” she tells me, and I grab the pitcher on the table, fill an empty glass with beer, and set it in front of her. “Did I scare Brandon off or something?” she asks.
I laugh at that. “No, he needed to talk to Ryan.”
“He’s cute, huh?”
Maybe this will be easier than I thought. At the birthday party, she didn’t seem to have the time of day for Brandon. I guess maybe she’s changed her mind. I’ve yet to meet a girl who wasn’t interested.
“Yeah, he’s cute.”
“You going to go for it then?” she asks me, and judging from the confused look on her face, I should probably pick my jaw up from the table.
“Me, go for it?”
“You two are always together, and it’s easy to see how comfortable you are around one another.”
I take a big gulp of beer—like, a huge gulp—hoping I don’t say something crazy and give myself away. I set my glass on the table. “We’re friends. We go way back.” I hold both hands up, palms facing Naomi. “Trust me, there is nothing between Brandon and me.” She eyes me, her head angling. She’s far from stupid, which makes me want to babble on, and say more to convince her, but she who protests too much…
“Oh, I just thought you liked him.”
“I do like him. He’s one of my best friends, and I’m so not his type. I’m a tomboy and he’s into girly girls, you know.” Stop rambling, Daisy. I take a breath and go for it. “Actually, it’s you he likes.”
Her big dark eyes stare at me in disbelief. “Me?”
“Yeah, he’s been asking me about you.”
She lifts her head and turns to look at Brandon, who is looking back. “I don’t think I’m his type either, Daisy. I mean, his reputation…”
“Yeah, apparently, he’s played out and is looking for a nice girl…like you.”
She puckers her lips and runs her finger over the rim of her glass as she considers my words. “He really told you that?”
“Yup.”
She stares at him for another second. “I don’t do hook-ups.”
“He’s not looking for one. You know, underneath it all, he’s a pretty great guy.”
“Didn’t he make you touch a fish’s eyeball?”
I can’t help but laugh as my mind goes back to that day on the lake. We were sixteen, out on the boat, and he caught a speckled trout. He wanted me to touch the scales and when I did the boat moved and I ended up poking the eyeball, and got so freaked out I jumped up and fell into the water. He abandoned—and lost—the fish when he dove in to save me, and it only solidified my love for him.
I snort. “The story isn’t as bad as it sounds.”
She turns to me. “I trust you, Daisy. If you think I should go on a date with him, then I will.”
I angle my head, catch Brandon’s gaze, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s a little wobbly on his feet. Was he drinking before he came to the pub? I’m not sure, but something is off about him. Heck, maybe he’s in love with Naomi or something and it’s messing with him. Lord knows it’s messing with me.
“Yeah, I think you should,” I say. Just because I mean it doesn’t mean I don’t hate everything about it.
“Okay, I’m free tomorrow. Next week, I’m away for reading week.” She leans into me and her warm vanilla scent fills my senses. “You’re a good friend, always helping others. You’re a real caregiver, Daisy.”
“Yeah, that’s me.” If I’m thinking about others, I don’t have to think about myself—or how I was abandoned as a baby so my biological mother could snag herself a hockey player, one who wasn’t my dad. Crazy I know. It was my dad who got her pregnant, but she wanted his best friend. But the simple fact is, I’m a pawn. People use me to get what they want—just like Brandon is doing right now. But he’s not all to blame. I agreed to this, because deep down I have horrible abandonment issues and I’m terrified of losing him. One thought dances around inside my brain as I fill my glass up again, wanting to drown out the emotions rising in me.
When it comes to setting up Brandon, I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t.