I shrug. Winning a Cup is the only milestone a Granger cares about. To me, turning thirty just means I’m officially more than halfway through my pro hockey career with nothing but a very healthy bank account to show for it.
I finish my gin, then push that glass away. “How about you, Francesca? What’s your next milestone?”
A flare of heat slashes across the tops of her cheeks. Big reaction for a little woman. It’s a loaded question, apparently. She squares her shoulders. “I’m going to graduate from medical school in June.”
“No shit.” The girl’s going to be a doctor. And suddenly, I have a thing for smart girls. “I wish I hadn’t finished my drink. That’s worth toasting.”
Right on cue, the bartender sets two glasses of Prosecco in front of us.
“To Dr. Francesca,” I say, lifting one in the air.
She clinks her glass against mine. “Thank you.”
“And where is med school?”
This time, she doesn’t comment on my curiosity. “California.”
“I love California.”
She raises an eyebrow, as if to say,oh really?“Where is work?”
I shake my head. “Rarely in California.”
“But not never…” She laughs. “Now I’m the one who is fishing for more details about thirty-year-old Logan from Not California.”
“I travel all over the place. Once or twice a year, that includes California. But mostly I’m on the east coast.”
“I hate the east coast.” It spills out of her, and her eyes go wide. “No offense.”
“None taken. I’m a Midwest boy born and raised. Minnesota.”
“Oh really? That’s a small world. I lived in Minneapolis for a year when I was little. I don’t remember much about it, but I like cheese!”
“That’s more Wisconsin.”
She laughs. “I tried.”
“We have lakes. And a lot of Birkenstocks.”
“Ilovea nice Birkenstock.”
“Now you’re just trying to make nice.”
“No, I’m serious. Especially when it’s kind of cool outside, and you can wear socks and Birks…” Her eyes are dancing. “I’mserious.”
“I know. You said it twice, so you must be.” I shrug. “I like comfortable clothes, too. I’ll run errands in sweatpants and slides.”
“I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“You’re a jock.”
Slight understatement. “It’s that obvious?”
She snorts. “I know the type. Athletic scholarship that pays for a business school degree.”
“Wait, you say that like it’s a mark against me.”
