“Good morning, Bruce.”
She takes the seat next to me, and I can’t help but let my gaze run over her from head to toe. I have only ever seen her in pantsuits or skirts. She always looks like a kick ass corporate boss lady.
Right now, she’s in soft-looking pale blue capri pants, an oversized rose colored sweatshirt that falls off one shoulder, and sandals that lace around her ankles. She’s got multiple ankle bracelets and toe rings on. And I note the tattoo at the base of her right pinky toe. Her toenails are also painted a bright blue color.
Her usually loose, wavy hair is now in one braid that lays over one shoulder and she has no makeup on.
Not only does she look nothing like the pseudo-famous sports star and billionaire owner of our hockey team, but she’d also likely get carded at the door of most bars in New Orleans looking like this.
She notices the way I’m studying her. She grins. “Yoga, meditation, tea ritual all before I pretend to like offices and heels.”
“Youdon’tlike offices and heels?”
She wrinkles her nose. “No. I prefer to be barefoot and outside.”
“So what’s with the pantsuits and, you know, the office?”
“I own a small corporation now,” she says with a shrug. “And I’m kind of in the middle of a… sociological experiment. If youlooka certain way, and based on that, people expect you toacta certain way, are they more or less frustrated when youdon’tdo things the way they want you to?”
I study her face. “By ‘people’ do you mean your husband?” I ask. For some reason. It’s none of my business, and I’m not sure why that’s my guess anyway. I suppose little hints I’ve picked up, like when she noted to Alex that Declan would hate her office at the arena, and she seemed delighted by that prospect.
She looks surprised for a moment, but then she nods. “Yes, actually.”
“And do you want him to be more or less frustrated with how you act compared to what he expects?” I ask.
“So do you have everything?” Bruce asks as he comes back to the counter.
“I do,” she says, seemingly grateful to be interrupted.
Dammit.
I like Astrid so much, and I do consider her a friend, but we’re not as close as I am with Andi, Sutton, and Everly. I could force any of them to tell me what’s going on. I’m not quite there with Astrid.
But we’ll get there. I have no doubt. You don’t live in Rebel, Louisiana, long before you just give in to having people up in all your business. Resistance is futile.
She pulls a long envelope out of her bag and hands it to Bruce. “Tickets, and other general info. A car will pick you up at the airport and take you to my place.”
“Your place?” Bruce asks.
“I’ve lived in Portland for a few years. I kept the apartment. It’s been thoroughly cleaned, and there’s a master bedroom and a guest room. I had them stock the kitchen. Make yourself at home. The car will also take you from the apartment to the arena. I was going to put you in the owner’s box, and I can stillchange that, but I assumed you’d want to be down with the fans and closer to the ice.”
“Of course,” Bruce agrees. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”
“Any time.”
I’m looking back and forth between them as if I’m watching a tennis match. “What’s going on?”
“Harley, Leo, Ruth, and I are going to the Grays game tomorrow night.”
My heart skips at the mention of the Grays.
“What? But…why?”
“Alex needs some friends there for support.”
“But…” I look at Astrid “He’s back in the city where he’s lived for years. That city loves him. And he’s got all of his teammates and the other coaches,” I point out.
Bruce nods. “Like I said, he needs somefriendsthere.”
