“Thanks, babe.” Kaiden strikes a pose to show off the new ’do.
Bennett gives me a pointed look, asking, “What about my hair?”
“Your head’s like a beautiful cue ball,” Kaiden says with affection as he runs a hand over Bennett’s shaved head.
Bennett rolls his eyes. “Not the answer I wanted.”
“You both look terrific. How’s the season going?” I ask.
“Can’t complain,” Kaiden says, stepping out from behind the quaint wooden counter, lined with twinkling lights. “We had a busy weekend, and for a Tuesday, it’s not too bad.”
“Considering my husband with the perfect hair made his world-famous cranberry and fake turkey sandwiches, I’d say it’s a great day,” Bennett adds.
“Yum,” I say appreciatively.
“Want one to go? I can make another,” Bennett offers, hooking his thumb behind him, toward their home on the property.
“Tempting,” I say, then turn to the strapping, grumpy hockey player beside me. “This is Rowan. He’s going to help me find a tree today.”
Kaiden eyes him with curiosity. “Do you need one for yourself too?”
“Or a sandwich?” Bennett chimes in, since he’s always helpful.
Rowan chuckles as he leans an elbow casually against the counter. “The sandwich sounds delicious, but I’m good.”
“You sure?” Bennett presses. “You haven’t lived till you’ve had a cranberry and fake turkey sandwich.”
Rowan arches a curious brow. “What’s the fake turkey made of? Is it like a chicken pretending to be a turkey? Apig impersonating one? Or mushrooms and quinoa doing the catfishing?”
Kaiden points at Rowan with a smirk. “He’s a keeper. I approve.”
Heat rushes to my face, and I bet I’m as red as a fire engine. “Um, he’s not my—” I flail for words. “Boyfriend. Date. Person to keep. He’s not my?—”
Kaiden hoots. “That so, babe?”
Bennett slaps his thigh. “You sure about that?”
The blush spreads down my neck as I scramble for an answer. “He’s…” I don’t want to sayclient—I keep my client list confidential—so I sidestep. “Friend. He’s my brother’s friend. And, you know the saying—your brother’s friend is…your friend.”
Rowan shoots me a look. “Is that really a saying, Isla?”
I double down, saying, “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“Also, you can tell them who I am,” he says smoothly.
I hesitate. Does he meanmyclientorthe famoushockey player? I don’t know, and I want to protect his privacy. “You’re my…” I pause, searching for the right word. He makes a rolling gesture with his hand, urging me to continue.
Then, way too pleased with himself, he says, “Since you don’t want to admit you’re dying to date me, you can just call me…the guy you FaceTimed in your robe the other night.”
“So you’re dating again. Yes!” Kaiden pumps a fist in the air.
My hands fly up in protest. “We’re not dating. We’re just?—”
Rowan leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “She wants me. So badly.”
Bennett’s eyes widen. “Get it, matchmaker.”
I swat Rowan’s arm. “Please.”
