Don’t be mad.”
“Every time Taylor starts a conversation like that, I end up baking until three a.m.,” Becky said, reaching into the washing machine and tossing the wet clothes into the dryer above it.
“I promise I don’t need you to bake. Though that does remind me—the school’s having another bake sale fundraiser next week.”
Becky shot her a look, eyebrow raised as she shut the dryer door and picked up a basket of dry clothes. “Once this new baby arrives, I’m using him or her as an excuse to get out of everything—no more baking, no more cooking, no more chauffeur. I hope you all are prepared for that.”
Abigail suddenly felt the tiny pang of nervousness about the news she was about to give. Taking care of a baby was hard work, and Becky had so much on her plate already. Maybe going behind her back and launching a baby clothing company hadn’t been the right thing to do. She bit her lip, hesitating as she followed her down the hall, where she carried the laundry basket into the nursery.
But a second later, her uncertainty vanished as she saw yet another full inventory of baby clothes in the basket. Her friend wouldn’t have to make anything new after the baby was born; she already had enough items to fill two stores for a year. Feeling confident again, Abigail said, “Okay, remember that friend I told you about in L.A. who owns the baby boutique on Rodeo Drive?”
“Yes. In fact, I Googled the store after you left, and oh my God! The stuff she sells is so beautiful, but crazy expensive. Fifteen hundred dollars for a crystal butterfly mobile for above the baby’s crib?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Who’s crazy enough to pay that much for something like that?”
Abigail glanced at her feet. She had. Or Dean had. It had been her push present—the gift from her husband after she delivered Dani. She’d thought the whole concept of getting jewelry or an expensive gift just for going through labor was ridiculous, no doubt another occasion dreamed up by diamond manufacturers, but all the other hockey wives had gotten one, and Dean wasn’t about to let anyone outdo him. “Anyway,” she said. “I sent her a few of your items.”
Becky’s eyes widened.
“And she loved them,” she said, continuing quickly.
“She did?”
“Yes. And she placed an order for more.” She smiled, and waited for Becky’s to appear.
Instead she frowned. “What?”
“Boys’ clothes specifically,” Abigail said.
Becky shook her head. “Abby, you’re crazy. I appreciate your support in this, but I’m not ready to sell my stuff. I’ve seen the clothing she carries and the price tags that go with it. My items are not worth two hundred and fifty dollars apiece.”
Crap. Two hundred and fifty? She’d undersold Becky’s items. She’d be better prepared for the next call to Jocelyn. Abigail reached into her purse for the check she’d received that morning for the first two sample items she’d sent. “Jocelyn’s customers felt otherwise.” She handed over the $80 check. “Sorry, I think I underpriced them.”
Becky’s mouth dropped and she slowly lowered herself into her chair. “Someone bought my items?”
“Yes. The khaki jacket and the yellow sundress.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I was wondering what happened to them.”
Abigail pointed to the check. “This.”
Becky sighed. “This is a lot of money for two items.”
“Right. So I think a smile, a high five, perhaps even a woohoo, would be appropriate,” she said with a laugh.
Becky finally smiled. “Okay. Woohoo!”
“That’s better. Now, let’s see about the items for the first order.” She sat on the floor and started looking through the items in the basket. “This stuff is so fantastic,” she said, holding up a navy hoodie with a front pocket pouch. The dinosaur on the front was wearing sunglasses and offering a peace sign. “Jocelyn is going to freak.”
“I’m going to freak.” Becky looked worried again as she stared at the check in her hand.
“Look, just take a breath and tell me which ten pieces you can part with—boys’ stuff.”
“I made this stuff for my own child. I’m not sure I want to part with any of them.”
“You may not even be having a boy. Besides, there’s enough clothes here for three boys. Pick ten things.” Tough love would be the only way to get this done. She held up the dinosaur hoodie again. “This one?”
Becky sighed. “Fine. I have another one of those decals so I can make another one.”
“Awesome. What else?”
Twenty minutes and a lot of coaxing later, they finally had ten items.
“Are you sure about this, Abby? I mean, she’s not just buying this stuff as a favor to you, is she?” Becky asked, looking worried.
The woman had no idea how talented she was. “Are you kidding? Jocelyn was named one of the top entrepreneurs under thirty in L.A. last year.”
“Exactly. I’m not sure my stuff is good enough.”
“She was also listed second on Cosmo’s Bitchiest Women in Business. Believe me, she isn’t doing this as a favor to me. She isn’t as successful as she is by following her heart.”
“Okay.” Becky looked at the check again. “We could use the money, and I had been contemplating whether or not I should go back to work, so Neil wouldn’t have to take the tours overseas so much, be home more…”
Abigail smiled. “Then this is perfect. You can still be home with the kids and have your own business bringing in money, a lot of money.” She stood and, taking the items, added, “Follow me into the kitchen. I have something else to show you.”
Set up on the table were the brochures and company letterhead she’d designed to send to Jocelyn after their phone call a few days before.
“Oh my God, Abby, these are gorgeous,” Becky said, picking up the trifold brochure with the logo BABY CHIC in blue and pink lettering across the front. Inside were the pictures of the jacket and the dress she’d already sold.
“If you want to change the name or the design or…”
Becky cut her words short with a big hug. “I can’t believe you did all of this. It’s beautiful,” she said, moving away and reaching for a tissue. “Stupid hormones,” she said with a laugh. “Really, though, thank you.”
Abigail smiled. “You’re welcome. So, you’re okay with all of this? This is exciting, right?”
Becky nodded slowly. “Excited, definitely. Sure? Not entirely.”
“That’s okay. I’ll be sure about it for you, until you are.”
* * *
“Mom!”
Dani’s shrill voice made her jump and nearly spill her coffee on the fundraising brochures she was checking for the bottle drive—pamphlets to hand out to the business owners in the community to garner more support. They’d already had ten companies sign up, but one of their biggest, Taco Hut, had unexpectedly changed their mind, so they needed to make up the difference.
“In the living room,” she said, setting the coffee aside, far away from the pamphlets she’d picked up from FedEx that afternoon. She knew some of the fundraising committee members were still reluctant to believe investing money in the project could yield bigger results, so she’d paid for the brochures herself, not wanting to add to the initial investment cost. Small price to pay to show everyone she knew what she was talking about.
“You will never believe it.”
She smiled as her daughter vibrated in front of her. “Whatever it is, it must be pretty awesome.”
“Taylor is going to the NHL game tonight with Jacks…Coach Westmore in Denver!”
Her smile faded slightly. “That sounds awesome, for Taylor,” she said, waiting for what she knew was coming next.
“And they invited me to go with them!”
Abigail plugged one ear and winced at the high-pitched squeal that nearly drowned out the words.
“Can I go? Can I? Please?” She clutched her hands in front of her and bent slightly at the knees, a desperate pleading look in her dark eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart, it’s a school night, and Denver is an hour away.” She bit her lip, feeling like the world’s worst mother as her daughter’s excitement deflated like a day old helium-filled balloon.
“But Taylor’s allowed to go,” she said, a new whining to her voice.
“Yes, but it’s Taylor’s uncles who are playing tonight.” Becky had mentioned something about the first game of the season where her brothers would play one another—Ben on the home team, and Asher playing for New Jersey.
“So when the Kings play against the Avalanche I can go to the games to see Dad play?” she challenged, crossing her little arms across her chest.
How had she foolishly thought she’d escape the preteen attitude for a few more years at least? “Well, we would have to talk about that when the time came.”
“Right. The answer would be no then, too. You hate Dad.”
Knife expertly to the heart. Wow, kids were good at that. “I don’t hate your dad.” Just because she’d carefully selected photos without him in them to display in the new house didn’t mean anything.
“This sucks,” Dani said, slumping onto the couch.
Abigail sighed. “We could go to Slope and Hatch for dinner and see a movie?”
Dani glared at her.
The sound of a vehicle pulling onto the gravel driveway made Abby glance outside in time to see Jackson’s truck park and Taylor jump out, wearing her Avalanche jersey.
Great. Her daughter had called in reinforcements. “What are they doing here?” she asked, her mouth going dry as she saw Jackson climb out of the truck. Even in jeans and his own jersey, all she could envision was the rock-hard body she knew was underneath, an image of his straining back muscles as he’d carried in her furniture, and the odd rush of color to her cheeks whenever she passed the lilies on the table.
“They assumed you’d say yes. We all thought you were cool,” her daughter grumbled.
“Nice, Dani,” she said, running a hand quickly through her hair as the front door opened and Taylor burst into the living room.
“Are you ready? Where’s your jersey?” she asked, glancing at Dani.
“I’m not allowed to go,” Dani mumbled, still glaring at Abigail.
Taylor added her own daggers to the attack.
“It’s a school night…”
“My mom’s letting me go,” Taylor said.
She sighed. Being tag-teamed by preteens was not her idea of a good time.
“You two ready?” Jackson asked appearing in the doorway. His question was directed at the girls but his gaze was locked on her.
Her pulse raced and she told herself to get a grip. It was just flowers. And intense, long-lasting eye contact that seemed to hold a lot of unsaid words…
“Dani can’t go,” Taylor said.
“It’s a school night,” Dani said, rolling her eyes.
“Becky said Taylor could go,” Jackson said, looking confused.
Seriously? She expected it from the kids, but he could help her out a little. She shot him a look.
“Oh, I mean…If your mom says no, then it’s a no, girls.”
All three of them stared at her.
She wasn’t sure which expression was worse, but she couldn’t stand the pressure. “Fine! Go.” This was one battle where she had to wave the white flag. Giving in to her daughter’s bad attitude wasn’t something she felt good about, though. Now more than ever, she had to be the enforcer of rules and not let her single mom status and the guilt Dani could inflict on her weaken her in her daughter’s eyes, otherwise the teen years would be hell. “But—because of the eye rolling and not-so-nice comments—you’re staying in this weekend.”
Dani either didn’t hear or didn’t care as she jumped up to hug her quickly. “Thanks, Mom! You’re the best!” she said, rushing off to get her jersey.
Taylor ran off to join her.
“Wow, I go from worst to best in the matter of seconds lately,” she said, sitting back down with the brochures.
Jackson laughed. “Becky can tell you all about it. Preteen girls,” he said with a shudder. “Kinda makes me glad Neil is in the military and carries a gun.”
“Yeah, I may have to hire him,” she said.
He came closer and glanced at the brochures. “These look great. You design them?”
She nodded, feeling her hand shake slightly at his closeness. She could smell the same cologne she’d noticed lingering in the house after he’d been there a few days before, a smell she’d been hoping would linger just a little longer and feeling stupid about it.
He picked one up and turned it over. “I should get you to design some for my real estate business.”
“Thank you, but they’re not that good.” She took the brochure back. “Just hopefully good enough to convince the local businesses to support the school programs.”
“I’m sure they will.”
“It’s so odd that Taco Hut backed out. Paul seemed so eager to help when I met with him.” Of course he’d also made her want to take a shower, the way he’d sized her up making her feel uncomfortable. She’d made a note not to be the one delivering the recycling bin or picking up the bottles. Which was why she’d sent Jackson.
“Yeah, it’s weird,” he said.
“And you’re sure he didn’t say why?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“Nope.”
His phone chimed with a text message and he looked relieved to escape the conversation. “Excuse me,” he said, reading it quickly and then tucking the phone away as the girls reappeared.
“Ready!” Dani said, dressed in her own Avalanche jersey and baseball cap.
“Let’s go, Uncle Jackson. The first five hundred people get a free foam finger.”
“We certainly wouldn’t want to miss out on that,” Jackson said with a wink.
Her stomach flip flopped. “Well, have fun,” she said quickly, standing and kissing the top of Dani’s head. “Wish I was going to a game instead of grading papers all night.”
“You can,” Jackson said, beside her. “That was Darryl who just texted. He had to bail on us, so we have an extra ticket.”
Dani’s eyes lit up. “That’s great. Come with us!”
Shit. No, she hadn’t really meant it. The idea of going with them made her stomach hurt for too many reasons. She hadn’t gone to a game in over a year. She would have to drive an hour and back trying to make small talk with a man whose sexy body kept resurfacing in her mind, and sit through an entire game in those close-quarters seats? Nope. No thank you. “I can’t. I said I’d like to, but I have work to do.” She gestured to the cluttered coffee table. “And still lots of unpacking to do,” she added for good measure, motioning to all of the yet to be unpacked boxes in the corner of the living room.
“Please, Mom,” Dani said, surprising her with her genuine want of including her that evening.
Which made it so hard to say no. “Maybe next time,” she said.
Dani’s face fell. “All right,” she mumbled.
Damn it! Over the last few weeks, things had gotten so much better between them. Dani seemed to be adjusting well and their relationship was getting stronger. She hated the thought of disappointing her. “You know what? Screw it. I can pull an all-nighter grading the papers when I get back. Who needs sleep, right? Just give me a second to freshen up.”
“You look beautiful,” Jackson said.
All three females stared at him.
He swallowed hard, and clearing his throat, he shrugged and said, “What? We’re going to be late.”
The girls seemed to accept the reason for the compliment as they hurried out to the truck, but Abigail continued to stare at him.
“Was that a compliment?” she asked.
“Yes, well, you’re going to have to try to look a lot less beautiful if you expect me to keep those things from slipping out.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You managed so successfully for years. What’s changed?”
“Nothing. Or maybe everything.” He took a step toward her, and the look in his eyes reminded her of the one he’d had in the kitchen the night he’d tended to her foot, the night she’d been certain he’d been about to kiss her.
Her mouth went dry as she stood frozen in place, a million thoughts running through her mind. What was he doing? What was she doing? And why was she just standing there waiting for something to happen? What did she want to happen? Her eyes searched his for any clue of how he was feeling. To see if he too was suddenly struck with this odd churning in his stomach or tightness in his chest.
The hallway felt as though it were closing in around her as he came closer. Her breath caught and held in her throat, and her eyes were unblinking as she continued to stare at the crystal blue eyes staring right back at her, giving nothing away…and saying so much at the same time.
He stopped inches from her, his warm breath against her forehead, his gaze still locked with hers. Then taking her by the shoulders, he gently turned her around in the direction of her bedroom.
Huh?
He gave her a little shove and she stumbled forward, glancing back at him with a confused frown.
“Hurry. We don’t want to miss out on the foam fingers.”
Right. The foam fingers. Wouldn’t want to miss out on those.
* * *
The stadium in Denver was a buzz of excitement as fans flowed in, had their tickets checked, and received their foam finger. Abby repressed a sigh as she accepted hers—how many of these things had she gotten rid of before the move? At least this one said Avalanche and not Kings. The girls waved theirs proudly as they rushed on ahead, and Jackson shook his head, refusing one from the cheerleader dressed in the team’s colors of blue and burgundy.
Abigail frowned. “I didn’t know saying no was an option.”
Jackson laughed. “I have a million of those things already.”
She shot him a wary look, and he took hers and jogged back toward the cheerleader. As he handed it back, he leaned closer to her and said something that made her giggle, and a crazy, irrational sense of jealousy made Abigail’s cheeks grow hot. She turned away, keeping an eye on the girls as they headed toward their seats, desperate to push the feeling aside. Hockey players and cheerleaders—not her favorite visual.
“There,” Jackson said rejoining her.
“She was bubbly,” she said, hating the note of jealousy in her voice.
He grinned at her. “I’m pretty sure they’re getting paid to be. Trust me, it didn’t go to my head.”
Strangely enough, his words had a reassuring effect on her, and she was embarrassed for having let the sight bother her in the first place. Being with him that evening had an odd, relaxing vibe to it. One she hadn’t expected. After their awkward, tension-charged exchange in her hallway, she thought the hour-long drive to Denver would be filled with long silences as they both contemplated what had just happened.
Instead, he’d hooked up Taylor’s iPod to his stereo system and they’d all rocked out to the G-rated version of all the latest hip-hop songs.
“You know the words to Lady Gaga?” she’d asked in disbelief as he’d belted out the chorus of “Applause.”
He’d grinned, turned the music louder, and removed his hands momentarily from the wheel to perform a crazy chair dance that had the girls giggling so hard in the back, Dani had sprayed soda out of her nose.
Nope. The ride to Denver hadn’t been weird at all, and around the girls, the sensually charged electricity between them seemed to fade to a manageable spark. Now, as long as the girls were around whenever they were together, they might be able to keep their undeniable attraction under wraps. Where it belonged.
* * *
As they followed Taylor and Dani to their front row seats behind the home team players’ box, Abigail asked the obvious question. The one everyone always asked their family. “Is it tough having Asher and Ben on opposite teams?”
He smiled as he took her drink from her while she removed her coat and sat. “It’s fun, actually.”
“Really? Thanks,” she said, accepting her drink and setting it between her knees.
He sat next to her and nodded. “Really. I mean, we love teasing Asher that he’s a traitor, playing for an opposing team, but the guys know we support both of them equally.”
She raised an eyebrow, calling his bullshit.
“Okay, maybe Ben’s our favorite, but I’ll deny saying that.”
She laughed as she nodded and the sight and sound created a warm feeling in his chest. He was happy she’d agreed to join them that evening for the local game. The drive from Glenwood Falls had been much more fun with her in the truck with them. He hadn’t even minded acting like a fool, singing and dancing. It was worth it just to see her laugh.
Unlike their usual tension, the evening felt comfortable…As comfortable as it could be with her sitting so close that their legs and arms brushed, and the smell of her soft perfume made him want to bury his nose in her neck and kiss the hollow there to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. No doubt their two smaller companions were helping to keep his thoughts on the PG side.
“How often do their teams play one another?” Abby asked.
“Twice a season, and they are the two games of the year that we never miss.” He always took Taylor to see her uncles battle it out on the ice. Their coaches liked to play them—Asher, a defenseman, and Ben, a left wing—on the same shifts, knowing their blood ties meant nothing to either of them when they were on the ice. If anything, their sibling rivalry drove them even harder to be the best player in the Westmore family and in the league.
“Which brother is the better player?” she whispered, as the lights in the arena dimmed and the opposing team skated out onto the ice from an entrance covered for protection from irate fans.
“Me,” he said with a teasing grin. He saw Asher skate out onto the ice, and he and Taylor cheered loudly, earning them looks from other fans seated nearby. It didn’t bother him. These games were always intense: he and Taylor cheered when their team scored and they cheered when the opposing team scored. The regular season ticket holders seated around them, consisting of mainly other players’ family and friends, knew their situation and thought their spilt loyalty was humorous. And once the rest of the fans realized the situation on the ice, Ash received some love from them for a good play as well.
“That’s a given,” Abby said next to him.
“Seriously, though, it would be impossible to compare the two. I mean their players’ cards would suggest Ben’s scoring this year so far makes him the better player, but Ash’s defensive skills have been credited for a lot of wins this season.” He remembered the many years he’d spent with his younger brother, who was determined to play offense, teaching him his skills and natural abilities were better suited for the defensive line.
It wasn’t until Asher didn’t make the A-list Bantam team when he tried out that he decided to listen to Jackson and become a defenseman.
The home team’s music started and the strobe lighting in the stadium started to spiral through the stands, the red and blue lights flashing and the scoreboard overhead playing highlights of the team’s historic moments. As the players skated onto the ice, the board lit up with their pictures and profiles.
The same involuntary pang in his core hit him as it always did when he saw the Westmore name light up the screen next to the picture of his brother.
Just once he’d like to see his own picture up there.
“Uncle Ash looks like he’s favoring his right side,” Taylor said, leaning toward him and speaking above the cheering crowd.
His eyes landed on his younger brother, stretching and warming up with his team at their end of the rink, and he immediately noticed what his niece was referring to. Asher did seem to be in some sort of discomfort as he leaned to the left. “Probably just an injury. I’m sure he’ll work through it,” he said.
Neither of his brothers had ever willingly sat out a game. Their father’s “suck it up” motto ran deep in the family bloodline.
As the game started, he sat back in his seat, then leaned forward again, his gaze glued to the play. His knees bounced and his hands clasped and unclasped on his lap.
“Are you always like this, or just when both of your brothers are playing?” Abby asked, and her voice almost made him jump. He’d momentarily forgotten she was there. Hockey did that to him, stole his focus and concentration. A lot of women had sat on the dejected side of his passion for the sport, part of the reason he was still single.
He forced a sigh and sat back. “I take my hockey pretty seriously.”
“Understandable.” She looked about to say something more, but her lips clamped together.
“Go ahead and ask,” he said.
“Ask what?”
“How I feel about being the Westmore brother not in the NHL.”
“Oh, that’s not really any of my business.” She glanced toward the ice.
“It sucks.” No sense lying about it. It did. It sucked every time he played a game of local league hockey with his buddies and they won effortlessly because they had him on the team. It sucked whenever he came to a game like this one, when the memories of the three of them playing together plagued him and he felt like the odd man out. And it really sucked when he remembered the woman sitting next to him had married an NHL player and would never settle for a mere minor league coach. “It sucks,” he repeated, as the first penalty was called against Asher’s team.
He felt her hand on his and suddenly it sucked a little less. His gaze flew to her hand and then back up to her eyes. His heart pounded and it took every ounce of strength not to turn his hand and link fingers with her.
“You’re a fantastic coach…and player,” she said.
He barely heard the words. All he could focus on was the look in her eyes that told him so much, yet revealed nothing at the same time. A look that could mean they’d finally reached some sort of truce or a look that could mean she just might be feeling some of the things he always had. Reading too much into it could potentially break his heart, but reading not enough put him back into the stalemate with his feelings where he’d always been.
“Thank you,” he said after a long pause, as the crowd erupted around them.
“Woohoo, Uncle Ben!” Taylor said, jumping to her feet to bang on the glass next to him.
His gaze never left Abby’s face.
“I think Ben just scored,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.
For the first time, maybe ever, he had something more important holding his attention. Abby Jansen was looking at him. Touching him. And even if there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it right now, he would enjoy the moment. Turning his hand, he linked fingers with hers and squeezed tight. “Good for Ben.”