“Every single one!” Theo is practically bouncing. “You had three assists last week against Pittsburgh. And that goal in overtime against?—”
“Theo,” I interrupt, my voice coming out sharper than I intend. “Don’t you have homework?”
Theo’s face falls. Sawyer glances up at me, and for just a second, that easy smile falters. I’m guessing he clocked the panicI’m desperately trying to hide.
“Your mom’s right,” he says to Theo, voice gentle as he slowly straightens and rises from the floor. “Homework’s important. But hey, I’ll be around. We can talk hockey later if that’s cool with your mom.”
He looks at me when he says it. Asking permission and kindly acknowledging a line. I should appreciate that. I do appreciate that…but I also need him to leave.
“Later,” I echo. “Maybe.”
Theo waves goodbye to the man he hopes is his new buddy, before he shuffles back toward his corner, glancing over his shoulder every few steps like Sawyer might disappear if he stops looking.
And then it’s back to me and this six-foot-something embodiment of everything I’ve been trying to avoid for the past three years. Hockey. Attention. Risk. The ghost of my ex-husband’s obsession standing in my shop wearing a hoodie with a cardinal on it and an apologetic smile.
“So,” Sawyer says, shifting the bag on his shoulder. “I know this is...unexpected. Judging by the reception I’m getting, it’s also probably not ideal. But I’m here, and I’m trying to do this right.” He pauses, then adds, “I promise I won’t break anything.”
I stare at him. “You broke a plant into a thousand pieces four days ago.”
“Okay, fair.” He winces. “But in my defense, that was an accident.”
“Was the metaphor an accident, too?”
His mouth twitches. “The metaphor was ambitious.”
“The metaphor was a disaster.”
“Also fair.” He’s grinning now, like my irritation is amusing rather than intimidating. “Look, I know I’m not exactly employee of the month material. But I’m a fast learner. I’m good with my hands.”
The second the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen slightly. “That came out wrong.”
“You think?”
Charlie coughs loudly behind me. I’d almost forgotten he was there.
Sawyer rubs the back of his neck, and for the first time since he walked in, he looks genuinely uncomfortable. “Can we start over? I’ll just stand here. You tell me what not to touch. I won’t touch it. Simple.”
“I have a lot of fragile items in this shop.”
“Then I won’t touch any of them.”
“Your job is touching things. Aggressively.”
His grin returns, slow and dangerous. “Only on the ice.”
My face heats. Charlie coughs again. I’m going to kill him.
“Look,” I say, crossing my arms, “I don’t know what Carol told you, but this shop is barely staying afloat. I can’t afford chaos. I can’t afford the attention that comes with bad press. And I definitely can’t afford you breaking something that costs more than your hockey stick.”
“My stick costs four hundred dollars.”
I blink. “What?”
“Custom curve. Specific flex. They’re not cheap.”
“That’s insane.” Also further proof I will need to rob a bank or sell ten thousand plants if Theo insists on lessons eventually.
“That’s hockey.” He shrugs, unfazed. “But your point stands. I get it. You don’t want me here. I’m a liability. A walking disaster who doesn’t know a fern from another kind of fern.”
