The next day at the morning skate, Spencer was distracted by thoughts of Maggie. He loved her wild hair and voluptuous figure, and she had these heart-melting chocolate brown eyes that expressed her emotions in a way that affected him surprisingly deeply. He’d already seen them glistening with tears and sparkling with wry amusement. He’d love to see them smoldering with passion. And her laugh…the huskiness of it revved up a libido that had been sluggish for months. Several times that afternoon he’d wished he had her to himself and that he’d never scheduled the watch party.
But his interest in her went far beyond the physical. She could easily have gotten offended by the teachers-need-to-get-laid conversation, but she hadn’t and he appreciated that. He’d been with women who got upset over trivial things and expected him to beg forgiveness. That kind of power game got old fast. She also had a heart the size of a hockey rink. To allow him to keep Kirby for the sake of a dog she didn’t even know was the kind of sacrifice he wasn’t sure he himself would have made if he’d been in her shoes.
He wondered how he would ever repay her. When he watched Lulu pad toward her food bowl to get some much-needed sustenance, he felt awash with gratitude. When this was all over, he vowed to give Maggie something to show how thankful he was. He knew instinctively it wouldn’t be money. The betting pool was one thing. She’d never accept cash for lending him Kirby, but he’d figure out—wait a second.
She was a Dragons fan. That much had been obvious. She’d been adorably wide-eyed the whole afternoon. With that realization, he knew exactly what to do.
After the skate, his workout, and a chicken and pasta lunch, he called the team services coordinator, Marilyn. Mama Marilyn was like the players’ fairy godmother. If they wanted something, all they had to do was ask her and somehow she made it happen. One time, a player had forgotten his wedding anniversary. They’d been in the middle of a long losing streak on the road and no one’s mind was on anything personal, but while some things could be put off or ignored, a wedding anniversary shared with a woman who had borne your child wasn’t one of them.
Given that the guy hadn’t remembered until the dead of night on the East Coast, Marilyn had still managed to get flowers delivered along with a bracelet engraved with their wedding date. The wife had been thrilled and the disaster had been averted.
“Hey, Spencer,” Marilyn said. “What can I do you for?”
“I need some tickets for the rest of the season.”
“What section?”
“The best you can manage.”
“How many?”
“Oh, I guess two. She can bring a friend.”
“Oh,” Marilyn said knowingly. “It’s a woman.”
There was a pause. He pictured Marilyn smiling as her mental wheels turned. She was fifty-two years old, happily married with a grandchild on the way and wanting to see everyone else in a similar situation.
“Yes. She’s just a friend.”
“Friends to lovers, buddy—you see it all the time in the movies.”
He let that go. “So, yeah. If you could look into it and I’d appreciate it.”
Before he even got home, she’d gotten him two premiere level seats, center ice, for the rest of the season. He had to pay for them, of course, and they weren’t cheap, but he believed in that saying “What goes around comes around.” Usually, he thought of that when something shitty had happened, but in this case, he could make sure that a good deed would not go unrewarded.
“I need a mailing address for her,” Marilyn said.
“Well, I only have a work address and I’d rather give them to her in person anyway. Can you get them to the arena for me? I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
“Spencer, how are you going to woo this woman if you don’t know where she lives?”
“I’m not wooing her. I told you it’s not like that. And who even woos anymore anyway?”
“Oh, people woo,” Marilyn said. “They just don’t call it that.”
“Well, I’m not wooing anyone. She did something nice for me and this is my way of paying her back.”
“What did she do? Stop someone from burglarizing your house? Stealing your car?”
Spencer explained the situation. When he was done, Marilyn didn’t say anything.
“I’m not wooing her, damn it.”
“Spencer, I know how much money you just spent.”
“Out of gratitude for an act of supreme sacrifice.”
“Bullshit.” Marilyn had no problem cussing like a hockey player. “Is she young?”
“Relatively.”
“Cute?”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“You’re wooing.”
“I am not,” he said, even though he was starting to doubt himself. “I’m just a generous guy and grateful she left her dog with me.”
“Whatever you say, Corbett.” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. “But I’ll bet you fifty bucks you end up asking her out.”
“Done,” he said without thinking. He never could resist a bet.
Marilyn laughed. “I’m already planning what to do with the money. Buh-bye, sucker.”
After hanging up with her, Spencer continued to second-guess himself.
He had to admit, when he thought about spending more time with Miss Maggie Hudson, dog lover, hockey fan, schoolteacher who didn’t live like a nun, he smiled. He found himself thinking about what she looked like out of her clothes. He imagined her softly rounded everywhere. He liked that. He really liked her wild hair. It was like a lion’s mane. It had brushed his cheek when she leaned over him as she explained how to streamline the betting pool calculations. It had sent a shiver down his back and he could detect the scent of her fruity shampoo. It had been a little difficult not to turn his head toward her and get a deeper whiff.
So, maybe his subconscious was wooing. Maybe he did want to date Miss Maggie Hudson. It wouldn’t be the first time he lost a bet, and who knew? If things worked out, Marilyn might have done him a favor.
Just about ready to nod off for the night, Maggie got a call from her boyfriend, Pete. “Hey, babe. I know it’s late, but I really miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she replied automatically, thinking more about how much she was going to miss the hour of sleep he was probably going to rob her of. Pete travelled a lot as a regional manager for a supermarket chain. His region covered four states and when he was away, he called a couple of times a week.
Unfortunately, it was eleven o’clock on a Sunday night and she had to get up early for school.
“What’s been going on?” he asked.
That was a loaded question, considering what she’d been through today, but she just didn’t have the energy to tell him all of that.
She ended up just saying, “Well, I found Kirby.”
“Babe, that’s great! You must be so happy. Did someone find him?”
She recounted the basics, mentioning the party only in the most general terms, like “I hung out for a little while there.”
“That is the most incredible story I’ve ever heard. You’re an angel for leaving Kirby with him, Mags. I wouldn’t have done it.”
“I almost didn’t. But like I said, Kirby wouldn’t come with me. He refused.”
“That’s actually not surprising. Dogs are known for their loyalty. There are many accounts of dogs refusing to leave the graves of their dead owners.”
Pete was wonderful at trivia games.
“But how can it be loyalty when he barely knew that dog?” he asked.
“Apparently two months was long enough for them to have formed a bond. I should be proud of him, I guess. I’m just lonely now.”
“Aww, poor baby. I’ll be home in four days. Wanna have phone sex?”
“I’m pretty tired, actually. Early day and all that.”
He sighed. “Oh. Okay, I guess I’ll just watch porn.”
Perfect. This way she could go back to sleep instead of tediously talking him into a long-distance orgasm.
“I’ll see you in four days, babe. I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Me too,” she replied, kind of hating herself for the lie.