DECLAN
Looking down at the wine bottle in one hand and a baguette in the other, I smile to myself. This day may go down in the record books for being notable. I sure as hell didn’t plan on asking Violet to join me on my real estate appointment, but logic seems to go out the window when she’s near. It was fun having her with me, even if she pointed out the obvious, that the house is fit for a family, not exactly something I’m planning on.
I was going to follow her in my car to her house, but I wanted to stop at the store to pick up some wine, and she asked if I could grab some fresh bread from the bakery section.
The door opens, and she has a lopsided smile and has changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt. “Welcome to my humble abode.” She steps to the side to allow me to enter her house. It’s small but has curb appeal.
I lean in to kiss her cheek, and I’m a guy that is throwing out moves that are not my usual, as proven by the fact that she makes a sound of surprise.
My eyes assess the living room, and it’s not bad at all. It seems quite updated, and there is plenty of space considering she lives here alone. The design is simple, and I’m surprised that there aren’t more flowers. In fact, all I see is a cactus when it comes to plants.
“I don’t understand, where is your vase of flowers?” I say as I follow her to the kitchen, and my nose enjoys the smell of a home cooked meal.
“I’ve barely been home this week, that’s why.”
She gets to work on cutting the bread, and that’s when I notice the parrot-shaped cookie jar. “For someone who told me that they hate birds, you’ve only been proving me wrong.”
Violet quickly checks what I’m looking at and smiles softly. “Ford found it at an antique market with Brielle and thought it would be great for me. I hated it at first, but it’s a damn good cookie jar, and I tend to bake cookies once a week.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” Violet quickly looks over the pot with tomato sauce. “I don’t really cook much, unless you count snacks as a meal, but you can’t really go wrong with spaghetti.”
“Sounds great.”
She grabs a bowl for the bread. “So, are you going to put in an offer for the house?”
“Not sure yet. You may have had a point about the size.”
Violet looks up at me with an arched brow. “You mean that the house is for a family, with a dog and maybe even chickens?”
Taking the bottle opener that was resting on the counter, I work the cork out. “Something like that. I have my place in the city, and that’s admittedly a bachelor pad, but at some point, it would be nice to have a house with a yard.”
“You mean a home?” She offers me two empty glasses.
“I guess.”
“I know what you mean. I’m at Ford and Brielle’s far too much, but I like sitting amongst their chaos and admiring their home life. One day I hope to have that, complete with kids and a dog.”
Right, because sheisthe relationship type, once she’s ready to head back to the market after she’s over her break.
“My parents gave me a good life, and let’s be honest, hockey isn’t a cheap sport, but growing up, the house and all of that always felt… superficial.”
“No treehouse either.”
My cheeks tighten. “That too. Anyway, I’ll think about the house. Tomorrow is my last day with the kids at camp.”
Our eyes connect as we both suddenly remember our deadline. The sound of the pots simmering on the stove fills the void of our words.
“Better make tonight count then,” she mentions softly.
“I’ll stay another night tomorrow but then head back to the city on Saturday morning. One of the team sponsors wants to have dinner this weekend, and I can’t really say no to that.” I hand her a wine glass. “Hope you don’t mind, but I intend to finish this bottle with you, which means I’m staying over. I would hate for the sheriff to go on a power trip and pull me over.”
Her response is to laugh, and that makes me happy. Maybe the sheriff is potential for her, but this week, Violet is mine, and I don’t tolerate any other man attempting to take what currently belongs to me. In hockey, your mission is to protect the puck, never let it out of your sight. That’s Violet in this moment.
Violet walks into my arms and takes hold of one wine glass. “I would say we should toast, but this day is already one bizarre situation after another, so my money would be on that this would be an awkward toast.” She sips from her glass.
I enjoy her straightforwardness. “Maybe.” I take a sip of my own wine, bitter with a hint of berry.
