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Technology was a wonderful thing when it worked. Ever since Oscar’s birth, it had worked to keep Lynn’s parents connected with their third grandchild.
Tonight she and her son were seated on the couch in front of the television with all the wires and doodads hooked up so Oscar could see Rupert and Minerva larger-than-life on the screen. A true child of the 2020s, he reacted to their presence as if they were in the same room, clapping and smiling and babbling.
“He’s getting so big.” Minerva’s smile was wistful. “I can’t wait to snuggle him again.”
“Christmas isn’t that far away. I missed seeing you last year. Maybe you could come then?” Lynn asked the question for form’s sake. She knew her parents—and especially her father—too well to expect a firm answer. Even family holidays didn’t stand in the way of her father’s goals.
Rupert didn’t disappoint. “We’ll have to check the schedule and get back to you. You know this is a busy time of year.”
It was always a busy time of year in the cruise ship entertainment business. The ships never stopped sailing, just the routes changed. Which was why Oscar had only met his grandparents in person during one fleeting visit several months ago.
“Where are you now?” She’d given up keeping track.
“Cozumel. Five-night route through the Caribbean out of Tampa Bay. Good crowd. We’re really building our fanbase.”
Her seventy-two-year-old father’s dreams of catapulting to music stardom hadn’t yet been dimmed, despite the fact he was now singing covers on cruise ships. Lynn wished she could respect his endless optimism, but it just made her tired.
“Shall I read to you, Oscar?” Minerva held up Goodnight, Moon and Oscar squirmed and crowed on Lynn’s lap.
As Rupert’s backup singer and tambourine player, her mother was the sole remaining member of the band he’d formed in the late Sixties. Lynn was certain she was only doing the circuit because Rupert refused to quit, not from any personal commitment. Five years ago she’d put her foot down, though, and the cruise ship gig was a compromise—they kept performing, but at least they had a home base. Of sorts.
Which was more than Lynn and her twin sister Henna had had growing up. The family had travelled from town to town in a decrepit old van, crisscrossing Canada and the United States, rarely staying anywhere longer than a few months. They’d been home-schooled by Minerva, a necessity considering their peripatetic lifestyle, and when neither had shown any musical talent—much to Rupert’s chagrin—had filled in as roadies and ticket-takers and other odd jobs once they were old enough.
Minerva finished reading the picture book to Oscar. Rupert, restless as always, returned to a familiar complaint.
“So, Crystal-Lynn—ready to toss all that corporate bullshit and come on the road again?” He had never reconciled himself to the fact both his daughters had chosen stability over what he termed a life of adventure.
“I don’t think so, Rupert.” Yet another affectation her counterculture parent had insisted on. She couldn’t wait for Oscar to call her Mama. “I’m happy here.”
Lynn and Henna had turned eighteen while their parents were performing at a music festival in Prince George. Sticking to the pact they’d made years before, they found jobs as servers and rented an apartment before breaking the news that they were staying put when the festival ended. Minerva had been resigned—Lynn still wondered if she’d known of her daughters’ plans through some sort of parental osmosis—but Rupert had been furious. He’d refused to talk to either of them for months after.
A few years later, Henna had moved to Edmonton. She and her husband had been together for almost two decades and had two teenage children. Lynn—who had dropped the Crystal from her name the day she’d started at the local university—had stayed in Prince George. And despite her plans for a “normal” life taking a couple detours, she truly was content.
Rupert accepted today’s rejection with equanimity and for a moment she thought they’d be able to end the conversation on a high note. Until he asked, “Have you spoken with Lance lately?”
The mention of her renegade fiancé no longer hurt as much as it had, but it was never pleasant to be reminded of him. Which her father did on a fairly regular basis. “No, of course not.”
He scowled. She wished it was because he was angry at Lance for breaking her heart, but she knew better. It was because her ex was living the life Rupert yearned for. Asking after him was like picking at a hangnail just to make it bleed.
If she’d known her quiet, soft-spoken lover had dreams of being a country music star, she would never have wasted seven years of her life on him. Not that he’d hidden his talent. She’d been drawn to his creative side almost as much as his steady, solid career as an accountant. Which had made his decision to give it all up and chase the music such a shock. Almost as much of a shock as when he had a Top 20 hit a year later.
Knowing her father would soon be ranting about young people having it too easy these days, she offered a distraction. “Did I tell you Oscar went skating a couple weeks ago?”
“You did? Aren’t you a big boy.” Minerva clapped her hands and Oscar laughed. “Did you take him, Crystal-Lynn? When did you learn to skate?”
“I can hobble around. But it wasn’t me. A friend took him.”
“Oh?” Minerva’s eyebrows arched. At odds to her own unusual lifestyle, her mother held the conventional opinion that a single woman, especially one with a child, was incomplete without a man. “What kind of a friend?”
The kind whose kisses set my soul on fire. No way would she stoke her mother’s curiosity with such an admission, however. “The coach of the Canyon Cats. He and I are working together on a couple projects.”
It had taken her a week to gather the equanimity to face Benjamin after their encounter in the tiny room under the stairs. He’d been his usual kind, amiable self, though her stomach had twisted and turned the entire time they’d spoken. Her gaze had been constantly drawn to his mouth, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, and she’d had to forcibly remind herself a repeat of the kiss was off the table. Far, far, off. They needed to focus on the professional side of their relationship. Not the personal.
She’d just have to ignore how attractive his person was.
––––––––
THE HABITS OF MORE than a decade were proving hard to break.
Benjamin knew a better man would have taken Lynn aside and cleared the air in a private conversation. He would have confessed his concerns about Oscar—not about the boy himself, but Benjamin’s relationship with him. They would have discussed their attraction rationally and calmly, and would have decided either to move forward or remain friends.
He hadn’t actively avoided Lynn. When she’d requested a meeting to discuss community events designed to defeat Brewster, he’d attended without protest. After all, he’d pledged his help in the campaign. It was immaterial that he had spent much of the conversation distracted by her throaty voice and shining hair, wishing he was brave enough to ask for what he wanted.
Another kiss. And maybe more.
Before encountering Lynn several weeks ago, he’d wondered if the intense memories he had of their night together were a phenomenon of the passage of time. Since their kiss, he realized the months between their meetings had diminished his recollection, not exaggerated it.
As he pulled into the arena parking lot on the morning of November 11, he did his best to shove all thoughts of Lynn to the background. The team had lost every game since the Simpson/Nechayev trade, including the last two on the road. They’d fallen below five-hundred and while there were still months to go in the season, Benjamin was already having nightmares of failing. Yet again.
Though it was a weekday, the game was set to start at two o’clock, since all offices and most businesses were closed for Remembrance Day. Pre-game ceremonies would include an honour guard and a salute to veterans and the team would be wearing specially designed camouflage jerseys.
None of which explained the kennels and crates lined up outside one set of rear doors leading onto the arena concourse. He drove past slowly and parked in the spot reserved for the head coach near the staff entrance. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he made his way back along the road.
Several people wearing matching blue jackets moved around the crates. Barks, yowls, and yips echoed between the high wall of the building and the embankment on the opposite side. As he approached, the arena doors opened, revealing Lynn with Oscar on her hip, framed against the dark interior.
Her gaze swept past the river of sound and motion separating them and met his. Her mouth curved in a soft smile and his heart squeezed.
He’d never considered motherhood sexy before. He was considering it now.
She nodded at him but spoke to the round, red-headed woman who seemed to be in charge of the blue jackets. “You can start bringing the crates inside. The area is all marked out in Section N.” Once the procession began, she descended the steps and joined him at road level. “Can I interest you in an animal companion? We have dogs, cats, rabbits, and an iguana.”
“An iguana?” The light dawned. “Adopt-a-Pet Day?”
“Yes.” Oscar wound his chubby fingers into Lynn’s ponytail and yanked. She winced and reached back to grip her son’s arm. “Ouch. It’s gotten a lot of attention from fans, so hopefully it goes well.” Another yank, another wince.
“Let me help.” Benjamin stepped behind her and set to unfastening Oscar’s grip, which the boy thought was a wonderful game. He giggled and kicked and refused to let go. Lynn’s hair was silky and cool and he couldn’t help accidentally brushing the nape of her neck with the back of his hands as he worked. “How have you been? Both of you.”
“Good. Sorry about the road trip.”
It was Benjamin’s turn to wince. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Yeah.” He swept her ponytail to the opposite side so it was out of Oscar’s reach. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” She turned to face him.
“No problem.” The pale November sun highlighted the tiny creases at the corner of her eyes and mouth. He wondered how old she was. If he had to guess, he’d place her a few years older than him, but birthdays hadn’t come up in any conversation yet. Not that knowing the detail would alter the attraction he couldn’t suppress.
“Hopefully you can get a win today. I’m bringing Oscar. It’ll be his first hockey game. The evening ones are past his bedtime.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He chucked the boy under his chin, making him laugh. He needed to get to his office, start his pre-game duties, but was reluctant to leave. Being with Lynn made him feel grounded and relaxed even as his body hummed with desire. “If you’re here for our warmup skate, make sure you bring Oscar near the tunnel so he can see the players go on and off the ice. A couple of the guys have asked about him. They got a kick out of meeting him that day.”
“I had to be here to let the SPCA people in and lock up after them, but I’m taking him home for a nap before the game. I’ll try and get back in time.”
The last crate disappeared inside. The doors were still propped open and the barking had grown faint and distant. “I guess I should let you go then.”
“And we should do the same to you.” She climbed two steps then paused. Turning back, she lay her hand on his shoulder and leaned down. As she brushed his mouth with her firm cool lips, Oscar patted his cheek with a soft warm hand.
Surrounded by these expressions of affection and acceptance, Benjamin’s knees weakened. Lynn raised her head and he swallowed. The heat in her gaze spoke of more than friendship. Much more.
“Good luck.” She rubbed his shoulder. “See you later.”
He was still standing, frozen in place, when the doors closed behind her and Oscar.