Page 11 of The Do-Over Girl

“The thing is, my great-great-grandfather was a novelist of note in his day—”

“Wait, you’re not talking about The Terrance Samuel Oliver, are you?” Kali says, more excitement in her voice than a dead author should cause.

Steve nods. “The very one. He stayed here in this very inn to write his first novel, which became a bestseller. That was way back in 1910. The inn was relatively new then, but I think it’s kept its charm.”

I arch an eyebrow. “So, you returned to the scene of the crime to write your magus-opus—”

Kali kicks me again before I can finish my sentence and tell him how cool that is—not.

“How perfect,” Kali says. “What a fabulous legacy. No wonder there’s a photograph of your great-grandfather in the parlor. I noticed it just before dinner.”

“Speaking of dinner,” I say as Miss Pike comes back into the dining room to bring a basket of popovers. I can see the steam coming from them and snag a couple. “These look and smell killer, Mrs. Pike.”

She smiles. “Did Mr. Oliver tell you that his famous great-great-grandfather was a guest here back in the early 1900s?”

“We heard all about it,” I say with a smile.

Kali kicks me harder this time.

“Yes, and I’m fascinated.” Kali turns to the literary coat-tail dragger with a smile he doesn’t deserve. “I want to hear all about your writing journey, Steve.” She pauses, and I know what’s coming and tighten my suit of armor for the blow because it feels like some sort of betrayal—for no logical reason—that she’s about to share her secret writing ambition with this pretentious stranger. Fuck.

“I’ve always wanted to write a novel. I started one, but…that was in college. Since then, I’ve been too busy working and writing more mundane things like PR copy and the like.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Steve says with a slight smile. “I’ve been writing for newspapers—everything from fluff to politics and everything in between.”

“You ever cover sports?” I can’t resist.

Kali doesn’t kick me this time, but she turns to me and glares, threatening me with her eyes. I smile back—no, I grin wide and hard back at her because it’s too much fun to rile her. And to punish her for sharing something that had been private between us with a stranger. Even if it has been seventeen years, and I have no right or logical reason to expect she wouldn’t share her most intimate dreams with someone else in all this time.

“Sure. I recently covered the Portsmouth Whalers for the local paper there.” He smiles. “Don’t worry, I know all about who you are, Nash—and a little something about professional hockey.”

“Is that right…”

“This food is delicious, Mrs. Pike,” Kali says. The older woman sat to eat with us and seems to be enjoying the conversation. I don’t blame her.

“Glad you like it. It’s one of my specialties. I cook a hot dinner every night except Sundays. It’s my day off. I provide breakfast every morning, and I’ll make you a boxed lunch if you want. I left a checklist in your rooms so you can tell me when you’ll be eating so I don’t make too much food. Nothing worse than waste.”

“Don’t worry about waste with Nash around,” Kali says. It’s my turn to nudge her, but I can’t help smiling that she remembers how much I eat. In my defense, all hockey players eat a lot—and by a lot, I mean enough to feed an average family of four.

“You may have to slow down on the calorie intake now that you’re retired,” Steve says.

I whip my head around to stare him down, but what’s worse than his smug look is Kali’s laughter. Usually, I get hard at the sound—or I used to—because it sets off some kind of reaction in me so deep down that it’s visceral and beyond my control.

But not this time.

“Oh, come now,” Mrs. Pike says, “I’m sure Nash is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and staying in tip-top shape.” She smiles at me in her sweet old-aunt way. “After all, just look at him.”

Kali coughs and almost chokes, and I chuckle while I pat her back. “Thank you, Mrs. Pike. Glad someone notices.”

“Oh, I’m sure all the ladies around Andrews Point will take notice. Remember, though…no hanky-panky.”

“Right. Got it.”

“I never heard that rule,” Steve says, part surprised, part bothered. I give him a smug smile because…I’m being an ass.

“Well, now you have,” Mrs. Pike says. “Not that you’ve gone out carousing in the past few months, but mind yourself if you do.”

He laughs. “Noted.” Then he turns to Kali and winks.

Fuck. If I were a bull, that wink would have been a bright red cape waving, taunting me to charge. As it is, I keep my shit together for two reasons. First, because I wouldn’t disrespect Mrs. Pike by starting a fight in her establishment. Second, because I don’t want Kali or Steve to think for a minute that a flirtation between them bothers me.

But it does. It bothers me way fucking beyond any semblance of reason.

Unfortunately, the only way I can pull off keeping my cool is to excuse myself, even if that means missing dessert.

“I have a call to make. See you all in the morning,” I say as I stand and leave the room. Not before I catch the confused look on Kali’s face and, maybe, just maybe, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of disappointment in her eyes.

To cap off my assholery for the evening, I give her a parting wink.