17. Hank

17

HANK

V olunteering for camp registration was my best and worst idea ever.

The town was electric with energy and overflowing with people. There were lines every-fucking-where. If you wanted a cup of coffee at Rise and Grind, you'd better be prepared to wait a few minutes or try your luck at the bakery next door.

It was nothing compared to the lobby at Elmwood Rink. Talk about sheer chaos. Campers and parents jockeyed for space in line while famous hockey players filed through, some pausing to give autographs and take selfies on their way to the ice. I waited ten minutes longer than usual for my latte, picked up my lanyard at the lobby from the bubbly receptionist, and settled behind a makeshift desk to do some community service.

I put in two hours checking off names, handing over backpacks, schedules, and QR codes for stores and businesses in town. Elmwood had it going on, I mused as I overworked my facial muscles, smiling like a prom king. Wood Hollow was so…blah in comparison. There was no bakery, no coffee shop, no fun places to hang out. There was a tiny market, the smallest post office known to mankind, and a gas station. The mill outsized everything. If you asked me—and no one had—they needed to do more with the town to sell those houses they were building. I had so many ideas, but…that wasn't my job.

I'd headed to the mill after my stint at the rink, where I shamelessly made sure Emily knew I'd be dividing my time between Elmwood and Wood Hollow off and on throughout the first week of camp. It was called karma points, and I needed those.

The mill had been running relatively well since Cooper had taken over as manager. He handled shipping, delivery, hiring, and employee morale while I dealt with the contractors handling the new housing development, and…marketing. I wasn't doing so great on advertising, but I wasn't failing either.

Being at the rink, volunteering in the neighboring town for an internationally renowned juniors camp was real marketing in the Four Forest area. They didn't care about how many likes we got on Instagram or Facebook. I wasn't suggesting that social media wasn't important, but showing up was better.

We'd hired five new employees last week, Emily didn't drop any of my calls, and her notes were shockingly coherent, so yay. My father seemed encouraged by my weekly reports too, and he was feeling better. His blood pressure had stabilized and he was strong enough to visit the stable, which was a very big deal to him.

Of course, nothing was happening fast enough. In a perfect world, Dad would have liked every job title filled so we'd be ready to ramp up production when they broke ground on the new houses in Wood Hollow later this summer. Frankly, that wasn't realistic.

"Things are moving in the right direction, but I think it'll take a year for the mill to run like a well-oiled machine," I'd told him on the phone last night.

"You said you could do it in six months," Dad had grumbled.

"I did not say that. I said?—"

"Yeah, yeah. Slow and steady wins the race and all that. Just keep doing what you're doing."

No problem.

Day two, I'd pasted a smile on my face at camp registration, checked off names and handed over backpacks, housing instructions, and itineraries for the morning groups, and returned in the afternoon to help clean up.

By day five, I had to admit, I was having fun.

I'd worked all week alongside MK; Shelby, a recent high school graduate; and her dad, Marshall, a talkative Elmwood native who ran the market with his brother, Stanley. Somehow they were related to the Hendersons of Henderson's Bakery, and needless to say, he had a few stories to tell.

From a business standpoint, sitting next to Marshall was a good networking opportunity, but I would have preferred to talk to Mary-Kate. She was friendly, vivacious, and everyone seemed to know her and like her. This program was her grandfather's legacy, and the rink was owned by her dad and her uncle. But her connection to Denny was the one that pulled at me.

I didn't pry, though. Her relationship with Denny was none of my business. I couldn't warn her off or stake a claim. He wasn't mine. Not really.

And if she was curious about me or wondered why I slipped into the rink to watch him at work, she was too polite to ask.

I didn't belong there, but I couldn't resist watching Denny in his natural habitat, helping to guide a new generation. He was so at home on the ice, not a hint of anxiety. He smiled often and showed off a bit with fancy footwork and jaw-dropping speed. He looked like what he was…a professional athlete on the rise.

Christ, hockey players were underrated. Zipping around the ice on thin blades at breakneck speed and gauging scoring opportunities while being chased by opponents who would happily resort to violence to get to the damn puck took amazing athleticism. Not to mention coordination, spatial awareness, and stamina. And the campers…God love 'em, had none of that.

They looked like a nice bunch of hockey youths, but as far as I could tell, there were no standouts amongst the players Denny and Jake coached on offense. Granted, this group was in their early teens. And yes, I was the definition of an armchair expert, so what did I know?

I concentrated on him instead, admiring his grace and speed and?—

"Denny's impressive, isn't he?"

I cast a sideways glance at Mary-Kate and smiled. "He is."

Her long ponytail swayed as she shifted to face me. "Have you always been a hockey fan?"

"Definitely. I grew up watching Denver get murdalized every year. That part wasn't fun, but I liked the energy."

" Hmm . I didn't like it all. I got hurt on the ice when I was little and took a long break. My Uncle Vinnie bribed me to give it another shot, and I fell in love again. It was like I needed time away to appreciate it, you know?"

I hummed in acknowledgment, my eyes locked on Denny demonstrating proper form to a kid struggling with his backhand near the net. "I get that. Sounds like you've done well in the sport."

"Thanks. Unfortunately, women don't get the same recognition as our male peers. I could have continued after college, but I didn't want to travel all the time. I know it's been hard for Denny." MK gestured to the ice. "He seems to be doing better now, though. Like he's ready for the next level."

Somehow I knew what she meant. There was an empty spotlight with Denny's name on it. He'd be the face on some of the biggest campaigns in the sports world; he'd sell tickets, merchandise, and dreams. And he'd do it with grace and poise…like a true champion in the making.

And me? I'd watch him on TV or maybe from the stands, and hopefully I'd be content with a handful of memories.

Denny met me at the barn later that night, flushed and pumped up with camp stories. The smartass from Tennessee who'd challenged Vinnie to a chess match, the show-off from Michigan the coaches had voted most likely to burn out within a week, the geek from Seattle who couldn't skate worth a damn, the prankster from Vancouver who'd spent lunchtime recruiting campers to wreak mayhem.

"We're keeping our eye on that guy," Denny snickered, patting Bess's flank. "Hey, can we take them out? It's late, but we have sunlight for a while."

I checked the time and nodded. "Let's do it."

We followed a well-worn path along the creek wide enough for two horses to walk side by side. The summer breeze felt refreshing after a day inside an air conditioned rink and office. The golden light of the setting sun, the sound of Denny's deep voice, and sway of the horse lulled me into complacency. I could be happy here. This was all I needed.

"We have more campers than ever," Denny reported enthusiastically. "Four different groups meet at two rinks usually, but Pinecrest offered the use of their rink this year too. They just want the publicity, the little fuckers. Whatever, we need the ice. Thankfully, we have enough coaches to make it work. Housing everyone is an ongoing issue. In the beginning, they'd billet with families who were willing to help out for a week or so. We still have that program, but we also have a couple of dedicated houses…kind of like dorms. You couldn't pay me enough money to sign up for RA duty. I like coaching better anyway. I got teamed up with Jake this year. He's funny, I'm serious. He's chatty, I'm quiet. It works."

I shot Denny an amused glance. He'd been talking nonstop for an hour now. "Quiet, huh? I don't know that guy."

He snorted, keeping a light grip on the reins, his posture ramrod straight as he matched Bess's gentle cadence in the saddle. Like I'd taught him. "Not gonna lie, I get boned up seeing you at the rink."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You looked super hot in that Elmwood Eagles hat."

I wrinkled my nose. "Vinnie gave it to me. He said I wasn't allowed to wear the Pinecrest Penguins hat I had on."

"The fuck?" He glowered. "Where did you get a Penguins hat?"

"Jake's mom gave it to me. How was I supposed to know?"

"Jake's mom pranked you hard." Denny knocked the heel of his palm against his forehead. "Okay, memorize this. Elmwood good, Fallbrook…fine, Wood Hollow…indifferent, but we sort of feel sorry for them, but Pinecrest is evil. They're snot-nosed assholes who think they're better than everyone else. If anyone had seen you in that thing, you'd be back to square one, babe."

I beamed.

He'd called me babe.

And he didn't seem to notice. The endearment had slipped from his tongue…so casually. I didn't want to read too much into the sentiment, but the more I got to know Denny, the more I realized he didn't give anything freely. You had to earn his trust, his time…his affection. Somehow, I was on the inside. It felt pretty damn amazing.

"What's the stupidest thing you ever did as a kid?" he asked out of the blue.

I didn't have to think about it. "I jumped from a tree onto a pile of leaves on a dare and broke my collarbone. I also superglued my eyelids open 'cause I was afraid of the dark and didn't want to go to sleep."

Denny hooted. "No fucking way."

"Way. I was not what you'd call a brainiac. How about you? Stupidest thing ever…go."

"I went skiing in my jeans and got caught at the top of the mountain in a freak storm. I looked like the iceman by the time my dad came to rescue me. Do you ski?"

"I do. Very well, thank you," I bragged.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We should go sometime," I said, unthinking.

I wished I could press rewind the second the words were out. There would be no "sometime." This summer was it for us, and the clock was ticking like a time bomb.

Denny cocked his head, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil. "I haven't been on skis in ten years. I should get on that horse again, huh?"

"When you're ready."

"Not during season, though. There's always a story about an idiot athlete doing something extra stupid, like breaking a bone snowboarding or spraining an ankle skateboarding on a day off. That won't be me, but yeah, it would be cool to go skiing with you…someday."

We rode in silence, side by side through the forest to the main trail, where a half moon lit the night in shades of indigo. And when the barn crested over the hill, Denny held his hand out. I didn't hesitate. I reached for him, wordlessly threading our fingers. Holding hands while on horseback was a little awkward, but damn, it was kind of romantic.

No, no…wrong word. We weren't a couple, and sweet sentiments didn't belong here. We were just a couple of dudes with a side agenda who'd become very good friends.

Once we'd tended to Bess and Fred, we headed for the house and climbed the stairs. We undressed unhurriedly, pulled the sheets aside, and rolled to face each other. We'd been going at it fast and furiously for months now. What started as a tentative exchange of pleasure had matured to something more confident. I was part of Denny's bi journey, and I was more than happy to be along for the ride. But I was kidding myself if I thought I could remain neutral.

"I want you, baby. I want you inside me." I traced his stubbled jaw with my thumb and raked a hand through his hair, loving his responsive moan of approval.

Denny covered me, pressing his body against mine, trapping my legs as he devoured me with soul-stealing kisses. He rocked his pelvis, rubbing our erections together. It was good, but nowhere near enough.

Thankfully, I didn't have to beg for more. He sat up abruptly, grabbed the lube, and gestured for me to get on my knees.

I braced for cool wetness and a probing digit, but he licked me instead. I groaned at the feel of his tongue on my hole. He pushed the tip in, flicking it as I fisted the sheets and begged for his cock.

Denny released me, added more lube, and entered me, slow and steady. He grazed his fingers along my sides, leaving goose bumps in the wake of featherlight touches as he moved. I grunted for more and he delivered, holding my shoulders for purchase and fucking me like a boss.

My boy was a quick study. He licked my neck and pinched my nipples as he snapped his hips. I jacked myself, sliding up and down his shaft. He sat on his heels and pulled me onto his lap, giving me room to take over. I rode him hard, letting my head lull sideways to rest against Denny's while he circled himself around me protectively…one arm on my stomach, a hand cupping my balls.

I wasn't going to last.

Denny tightened his hold, thrusting and bucking as he pulled my chin toward him. The angle was terrible, but the kiss was potent. I came with a gasp, shuddering in his arms, and he was right there with me.

I carefully disengaged our bodies and dove onto the pillow, fucked out and exhausted. Denny laughed and lunged on top of me. A halfhearted wrestling match ensued, silly and handsy, and kind of sweet.

This was the kind of thing that made me nervous.

In a twist, I was still capable of doing the stupidest things…like falling head over fucking heels for a hockey star.