Spencer holds up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, wh—”
But I barrel on. “So of course I’m going to do a background check on her. I don’t know her.Youdon’t know her.”
“Coming from the guy who half this town worries about pissing off. People aren’t always their reputations, Wes.” Spence places his hands on my shoulders, turning me until we face each other. I’ve got a couple of inches on him and about twenty pounds of muscle, but I let him hold me in place. If I have a soft spot, it’s for the man who stands in front of me.
“Sometimes they are.”
Spencer drops his head as he slowly lets out an exasperated breath. “Isla can skate her ass off. I love her style; it’s like vicious gracefulness. I don’t care what her last partner or the media say about her. Rowan vouches for her, and I’m going to make up my own mind. Isla knows this is a trial basis. I’m sure she has the same questions about me.”
Five years ago, Spence did a photoshoot for a magazine issue about male athletes whose names you don’t know but should. That’s where he met Rowan, who plays professional tennis, and they’vebeen friends ever since. I know he’s a good guy, but Spencer’s resting his career on this decision to pair with Isla. I owe him my skepticism, to protect him.
“And as for the instructor job,” he goes on, “you’re the one always complaining about how you’re short-staffed and losing money because of it, but you’re too stubborn and suspicious of people to give anyone a chance. So maybe I forced it on you, but you will be thanking me for it later. If you called Isla’s references, I suspect you know that, too.”
I’m too fucking tired and my nerves are too jumbled to fight him on this. I’d only do it to save my pride since, while I’m loath to admit it, Spencer has made valid points. I wouldn’t want people to judge me based on what my ex-wife has to say about me, or hearsay about my past. I also can’t hold what happened when we were kids against Isla, even if my stubborn ass so desperately wants to.
Instead of admitting my acquiescence to his argument, I grumble, “I’m holding your ass accountable if this all goes to shit.”
“Wait, did I…win this argument?” He runs to the window like a fucking golden retriever who hears their owner coming to the front door. “I don’t see any ice, so hell hasn’t frozen over. Not yet, anyway.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t have time to argue about this. We can’t be late to pick up Thea.”
“El did say Thea has been a handful lately.”
“Right, well, excuse me if I don’t take the word of a woman trying to find love on TV and shipping her kid across the country away from all her friends and her hockey team to do it.”
I groan, realization dawning on me how pissed off Thea probably is and how often people take their emotions out on the people in closest proximity. In this case: me.
“What is it?” he asks.
“She’s going to make my life hell.”
He flashes that stupid shit-eating grin at me for the millionth time in our lives, and as always, it stokes my annoyance. “Who, Isla? Or Thea?”
I snatch my keys off the table and head down toward the garage. “I hate you,” I call out.
“You love me!” he shouts in an exaggeratedly happy tone as he jogs down the steps behind me. “You’d be totally lost without me.”
“Just get in the car,” I mutter, motioning toward it with a flick of my wrist.
He salutes me. “Sir, yes, sir.”
There is apparently no shortage of people in my life with the capacity to test my patience.
Spencer holds a makeshift sign he constructed in the car, using a couple of receipts held together by hastily chewed gum.TD, Thea’s hockey nickname, is written in black Sharpie on it.
Thea’s easy to spot in the crowd, carrying a huge duffel bag with hockey equipment, including a stick protruding from the top.
“Tha-Tha-Tha-Thea,” Spencer begins to sing, in the cadence of an old Chia Pet infomercial from when we were kids.
Thea flinches, head spinning from side to side, scanning the room to see if anyone is watching us. She’s too young to understand the reference, but she’s mortified about the spectacle being made of her arrival. She readjusts her black Palmer City Wolves baseball cap, pulling it down further on her forehead to hide her face. I elbow Spence in the arm, frustrated that his antics could agitate her and lead to the situation I’d hoped to avoid.
“Welcome to Carolina!” Spencer announces as Thea reaches us.
“Hi.” She crosses her arms, shifting her weight to one side as she stares at Spencer with the same displeased expression I expect he saw from me this morning. “Was that necessary?”
I bump Spencer’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, he cannot be stopped. I’ve tried.”
He throws his hands in the air. “God forbid I show emotion when seeing my niece for the first time in years.”
