I tell him that’s not necessary, but he is adamant about having all my funds returned to my bank account, the one I share with Shay.
“Look,” he says when I’m hesitant, “I’m a professional hockey player. Not to brag, but it’s no hardship for me to pay for your stay. Besides, the way I see it, I owe it to you. It was my fuckup.”
He has a point, so I relent. More for Shay than for me.
With all the financials settled, we let the owner know that we’ll both be staying. She’s fine with that.
I guess as long as we’re paid up, she doesn’t care what we do.
We end the call, and I lean back in my chair and say to Shane, “By the way, thank you.”
He waves his hand around. “Aww, don’t worry about it. It’s the least I could do. I messed up. Though now that we have everything sorted out, I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking starving. How about we throw together something to eat?”
I’m hungry, too, so I reply, “Sounds good to me.”
After we check around to see what’s available in the fridge and the pantry, we opt to whip up a simple pasta dinner.
I start on the salad while Shane boils water on the fancy multi-burner stove.
We work well together, and it isn’t long before we’re seated at the kitchen table again. This time, though, we’re chowing down on salads of fresh greens with a light vinaigrette and linguine with marinara sauce.
Sure, the sauce came from a jar.
It’s still good.
Since we’re both so hungry, we pretty much concentrate on eating. But once we’re almost done with our meals, we start conversing again.
Shane asks me where I’m from, and after I push my plate away ’cause now I’m stuffed, I tell him, “Phoenix.”
He looks like a light suddenly turns on for him. “Aah, so that’s how you know who I am.”
“It is,” I confirm. But then I add, “Though I may have recognized you even if I was from somewhere else. I’m a pretty rabid hockey fan.”
He’s twirling the last of his pasta but stops. Brows raised, he looks over at me and asks, “You are?”
I nod. “Yep, I sure am.”
“Girl,” he says as he resumes twirling his linguini, big smile on his face, “we are going to get along just fine.”
I then share with him that I was actually at the Bears’ last playoff game.
“Ugh.” He grimaces. “That one sucked. We were so close to moving on. If only I had gotten that goal in the third. It could have been the difference.”
He looks upset about it still, so I remind him, “Hey, it’s a team sport. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Besides, you guys did really well this season. You should feel proud.”
“Yeah.” Shane sighs and pushes his now-empty plate away. “I guess you’re right.”
There’s sadness in his green eyes, so I decide to change the subject.
“Hey,” I begin as I tap my fingers on the table, “I have an idea.”
He peers over at me. “What’s that?”
“How about after we clean up in here, we go outside and hang by that sweet pool? Those loungers out there look super comfy.”
With a big smile—and oh my, doesn’t he have the cutest dimples?—he says, “You know what? That sounds like a perfect way to spend the evening.”
Okay, so Willa’s eyes are, in fact, green. And though they’re a lighter shade than mine, they are vibrant.Sheis vibrant. I like her energy. I’m glad she’s staying.
