Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Troy

Nick plops himself down next to me. I'm manning the fire pit, getting the fire going so we can roast hot dogs and marshmallows later. Dozer and Jenny are off somewhere doing things unfit for polite company, and based on Nick being here alone, I'm guessing Tina's taking care of the kids. Lisa, the nanny, has the night off, though she's been told she's welcome to join us at the fire pit. As far as I know, she left as soon as she was officially off the clock. I can't say I blame her. Socializing with your employers and their friends seems like it'd be strange.

At first Nick doesn't say anything, just makes a show of sighing and stretching out his legs in the red Adirondack chair he chose. All the chairs are painted bright rainbow colors, making the fire pit a cheerful spot to hang out. He takes a long drink out of a bottle of water, then gestures to the other one he brought with him. "Thought you might be thirsty."

I grunt my thanks, reaching for it after judiciously adding a few thicker sticks of wood to the fire. It's blazing cheerfully now but needs to get a bit bigger before I add another log.

Nick sighs again, and I glance his way, eyebrows raised. He stares at me, an expectant look on his face.

Unsure what he's waiting for, I stare back, mildly amused by the staring contest we seem to be engaged in. Apparently, we've regressed to elementary school. I can't remember the last time I got in a staring contest.

He blinks first, then rolls his eyes and sighs heavily again. "Seriously, dude?"

I spread my hands. "What?"

Another eye roll. "Tina's been nagging me since you got back, but I told her we needed to wait. Give you space. You'd fill us in when you were ready. But she's not having it. So you gotta give me something to tell her." He holds up his fingers, pinching a tiny space between them. "The tiniest bit of something to appease her. Otherwise, she'll never let me rest."

Chuckling, I sip my water. "Why doesn't she ask me herself?"

He points at me. "Watch it. You don't need a Tina interrogation. I promise."

With another laugh, I shake my head. "I'm not sure what to tell you, man. I gave my number to the woman I met last night. She texted me this morning and invited me to brunch. We had stuffed French toast. I'm not sure what else you wanna know."

He groans. Loudly. "Do you like her? Are you going to see her again?"

I was wrong. We haven't regressed to elementary school. It's middle school. "Yeah, I like her. And I don't know if or when I'm going to see her again. Do you want to pass her a note that says, ‘Do you like Troy?' with a checkbox for Yes or No?"

Picking up a pinecone from the kindling pile, he chucks it at me. I bat it aside, laughing. "Shut up, asshole," he grouses. "You know what we're all dying to know."

Sighing, I shake my head, grab a log, and set it at the edge of the fire, ready to shove it in when the time is right. Then I settle back in my chair, crossing my hands over my belly. "I don't really have any answers for you." Which is the issue I'm facing everywhere these days. I don't have answers for any of the questions facing me.

What am I going to do with myself now that I'm retired?

My brother called a couple weeks ago and offered to make me a partner in his car dealership empire in Milwaukee. He painted a picture of me doing TV ad spots and people flocking to buy cars after seeing my face on billboards and ads everywhere. I told him I'd think about it, but I'm not sure what there is to think about. Nothing about that appeals to me. I just don't know how to say that to him. Our relationship has been a little strained since he quit hockey and I went to college on a hockey scholarship. Going pro didn't help. It's like he's always felt the need to compete with me, to show that he's as good, as successful. And I think his offer is kind of an olive branch, which I appreciate, but at the same time, selling cars isn't me. I'm happy for him, proud of him, but that doesn't mean I want to join him. Plus, I don't know that I want to move back to Wisconsin.

"It's not that deep," Nick mutters, bringing me back to the present and the possibilities embodied by my date with Anna. If something beyond just a few dates while on vacation could happen there, I definitely don't want to move halfway across the country from her. "You like her. And you know she likes you, or else why would she invite you out today? You didn't make a plan to see her again?"

I lift a shoulder. "Not yet."

He points at me again. "But you want to."

I shift my shoulders, not quite a shrug, but not not a shrug either.

Nick scoffs. "Obviously you do. So what's the problem? You've got her number now. Send her a text. Invite her over for hot dogs and marshmallows."

That makes me laugh. "You want me to ask her here to spend the evening watching you wrangle your kids and try not to get hit with flaming marshmallows?"

He laughs too, shrugging. "Sure. Why not?"

Why not?

The question echoes in my head while we sit in silence for several minutes, listening to the pop and crackle of the fire.

"Do you have your phone?" Nick asks.

I shake my head.

"I'll watch the fire. Go get it."

When I don't get up immediately, he sends me a scowling glare. It's the look he gives uncooperative teammates when they're not pulling their weight. As the captain for the last three years, he's perfected that look.

Chuckling, I stand, unable to resist. Not that I really want to. "You know," I say as I step around my chair, "you're not my captain anymore."

Still scowling, he nods. "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that." Then he points toward the house. "Phone. Now."

I take the stairs up to the deck two at a time, ignoring the twinge in my knee, and head inside, walking past Shelby and Noah on the couch watching something animated on the TV while Tina camps on her phone at the breakfast bar.

She looks up when I come in, holding a finger to her lips to tell me to be quiet. Grinning, I give her a thumbs up. I'm assuming she's enjoying a few minutes of peace while she has it, and she doesn't want to risk me riling the kids up again. Which is something I'm prone to do, even if I don't always mean to.

They're fun kids, and they get excited that I'm willing to play with them, especially when I let them hang off my arms or dangle them upside down by their ankles over the couch. That always elicits a chorus of squeals and giggles, and while it's fun, it goes on and on and on once I get started, and I'm under strict orders to get my phone and text Anna an invitation. Even if I didn't have my own motivations, I'd never cross Tina like that on purpose. She'd kill me, then step back and let her husband kill me all over again when she was done.

They're perfect for each other like that.

I have to admit, I've always been envious of their relationship and have just about given up the hope of finding that for myself. They got together in college, and Tina's supported Nick's career wholeheartedly, following him from franchise to franchise, bringing the kids to as many games as possible, and being there for him in all the important ways. In return, he has her back in any and all situations, helps out her family, and makes sure she has everything she needs to keep their home running smoothly.

Could Anna be that for me?

The thought floats into my mind unbidden, and I quickly swat it away, a puck that has to be shot before the buzzer sounds. That's a ridiculous thought. I've known the woman for all of twenty-four hours. We've had a drink and a meal together, and while those were enjoyable, I don't need to get ahead of myself. Besides, she has an established life here, and I …

Well, I don't know what I'm going to do next. Who'd want to get involved with that much uncertainty?

My only real goal is just to enjoy myself while I'm here. And if that so happens to include the company of a shy, pretty, glasses-wearing office manager, who could complain about that?

Not my friends, considering they're the ones pushing me to invite her over.

Going into my bedroom, I pick up my phone from where I left it charging on the dresser, checking to see if I have any missed alerts, a fleeting sense of disappointment coming over me when I see I don't have any missed texts from Anna.

Swiping away the random social media and news alerts, I open my messages, smiling when I read over our last exchange. And as much as I would've enjoyed her spontaneously deciding to text me again like she did this morning, I realize she's not the type to do that. I think inviting me to brunch was a big deal for her. At least that's the feeling I got from our initial awkwardness. I'm glad we were able to get past that, though. And I didn't exactly end our earlier interaction in a way that asks for or invites a response.

We're roasting hot dogs and marshmallows around the fire pit tonight. It's just Nick and Tina (from last night), their kids, and me. Would you like to join us?

I hit send and pocket my phone, heading back out, my heart starting to pound with the anticipation of her reply. Will she respond right away? Or maybe she's busy and she won't see my text? How long should I wait before following up? Or should I follow up at all? If she's busy and doesn't see it, sending multiple texts would seem desperate or thirsty, and I don't want to give those impressions, especially not to someone like Anna. That would turn her off faster than an overloaded circuit shorting out the power.

When I get back to the living room, both kids look up from their movie and see me. Both enthusiastically shout, "Troy!" though from Noah, it's more like "Twoy!" and is especially garbled around the silicone spout of his sippy cup from his spot standing in the corner of the couch.

Tina lets out a heavy sigh, shooting me a look.

I hold up my hands. "Sorry," I mouth before crossing over to the kids, ruffling Shelby's hair, which has her patting my arm affectionately, and lifting Noah up above my head before plopping him back down on the couch on his butt.

He immediately pops back up, reaching for me. I grab one of his hands, but don't pick him up again. "Sorry, little guy. I gotta get back out and watch the fire. I just needed to grab something real quick."

"No!" Shelby protests. "Stay! Watch the movie with us!"

"Aww, maybe next time, Short Stuff. It's my job to make sure we have the best fire for tonight, and I take that job very seriously. How else will you be able to make the perfect s'more?"

She gazes up at me with big, brown eyes. "Please, Uncle Troy?"

Oh god. That face. That little voice.

I grin at her and lower my voice. "That works on your dad a lot, huh?"

A tiny smile breaks out, and she nods.

Chuckling, I ruffle her hair again. "I promise we'll watch a movie together this week, okay? But I can't right now. Stay here and relax. You gotta have enough energy for roasting food on sticks in a bit."

I give them each one last affectionate pat, then back away slowly, pausing next to Tina who's holding her breath. When the kids return to being engrossed in whatever they're watching and pay us no attention, she gives me a grateful look. After shooting her another thumbs up, I quietly head outside, not wanting to risk distracting the kids again.

Nick raises his eyebrows at me when I get back to the chairs ringing the fire pit. "And?"

"And I texted her as directed, Captain."

He snorts, casually flipping me off. "What happened to me not being your captain anymore?"

Shrugging, I add another log to the fire before reclaiming my seat, enjoying the satisfying whoosh as the dry wood catches fire.

"Well?" he prompts.

"Well what?"

"Is she coming?"

I shrug. "I don't know yet."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "You're killing me, Easton."

Shrugging again, I grin at him. The truth is, I'm dying to check if she's responded. With my phone in my pocket on vibrate, I wouldn't necessarily have felt the alert while I was moving. But I'm reluctant to look, because I'll be equally disappointed if there's no response as I will if she says no.

It's silly that I'm so emotionally invested already, but here we are.