20. Hank

20

HANK

T he temperature cranked up a few notches in August. If you weren't hanging out at the ice rink, you were probably at Lake Norman, jumping from docks or zipping across the water on a boat at top speeds on your day off.

Me? I was at the mill.

"What time can we expect the delivery tomorrow?"

I blew my cheeks out like a chipmunk and slumped in my chair. "What time do you need it?"

"Seven a.m." Glen Ackerman of Wood Hollow Construction was my new least favorite person.

"Seven? That's a little early, Glen, and it's a huge shipment."

"That's what I paid for. Prompt delivery of a lot of lumber. We broke ground last month, concrete has been set, and we're rolling. You have the wood, don't you?"

"Yeah, we have it. I'll do my best to get it to you early, but there's a fair chance you'll receive part of it at noon and?—"

"Not acceptable," he barked. "Listen Cunningham, when you took over for the Larsons…"

I tuned him out. I wondered how long it would take for locals to stop referring to how the Larsons did things. It wouldn't do any good to remind them that the Larsons had literally done business in the middle of a forest and couldn't supply half the lumber we'd delivered.

I'd been working my ass off for months, and nothing moved fast enough in a town with one fucking streetlight. Go figure.

"Glen, I understand where you're coming from. We'll do our best." I hung up on the man sputtering indignantly on the line and reached for my Stetson. I needed a breather.

My cell buzzed with a new text and an incoming call. I read the text from Denny first.

Meet me at the Black Horse after work? I have a friend in town who wants to meet you.

I sent Denny a thumbs-up emoji and answered the call.

"You're alive!" Cassy shouted into the connection. "How's it hangin', Hankster?"

I chuckled. "Not bad. How're you?"

"Peachy. I wanted to give you an update on the Crane kid. Better yet, I'll send you a video in three, two, one—check your messages. I have a kid from Golden starting next week and the hospital referred me for an outpatient gig, so I guess I'm calling to see how long you'll be stuck in the trees doing tree things."

I moved to the doorway and looked past Emily's desk to the controlled chaos of the mill. Cooper spotted me and tilted his head in a friendly acknowledgment. Everyone else ignored me…including Emily. Just another day at the office, wishing I was at the stable, hanging out with the horses.

A call from home reminding me of what I'd given up couldn't have come at a worse time.

Except, that wasn't entirely accurate. Don't get me wrong, I loved being with Bess and Fred, but I wasn't itching to go home. My mind was buzzing with ideas for this town. Wood Hollow needed new life and a purpose—better roads, better shops, better…everything. I couldn't help thinking the mill could be part of that growth. Maybe.

"I don't know," I replied. "A couple of months."

"You don't sound happy about that."

"I am. I'm just…" Failing at life, a.k.a. floundering as CEO, falling for a hockey player who'd be gone in a matter of days. I cleared my throat. "I'm fine. And I'm glad Max is doing well. Tell him hi for me."

"Will do, Hank."

I ended the call and glanced over at Emily who was motioning to me wildly. "What's up, Em?"

"Lines one, two, three are for you. Glen Ackerman says you hung up on him, the saw thingy you had fixed is ready, and someone clogged the toilet in the men's room. Again."

Wow. Just wow.

Hey, it wasn't all doom and gloom. We'd hired thirty more employees over the past few weeks, and things were running relatively smoothly. Dad was ecstatic and he was doing better health-wise. He'd improved to the point he was able to walk with a cane for short stints.

The general sense that things were progressing as planned made for pleasant conversations, but days like this felt like one step forward, two steps backward. It was frustrating. I was torn between wanting out and being afraid of what came next.

So I concentrated on the positive. I woke up with a sexy man in my bed. We fed the horses together, exercised them, stealing errant touches and kisses like newlyweds, then went to the house for breakfast before parting ways. Denny headed for the rink, I headed for Wood Hollow, and while we occasionally met for coffee or lunch at the diner, we usually waited till evening to see each other again.

He was busy with camp, and there were a fuckton of hockey players in town who'd wonder why he wasn't hanging out with them. I understood. I wasn't in a position to ask for more, so I took what I could get and did my best to make every second count.

And to not get aggravated with interruptions like the arrival of Mason Trinsky, Denny's teammate from Denver.

Trinsky was an enormous tatted human with a jolly demeanor and a lust for life. He was the type of guy who challenged strangers to drinking games, bought rounds for the entire bar, and told outlandish stories that made you simultaneously roll your eyes and laugh. He was a loveable goofball and a force on the ice.

Denny told me Trinsky was the guy who'd looked out for him and made him feel at home in the NHL. I'd expected to like him, but I hadn't expected Trinsky to know much about me. I was wrong.

"Holy fuck! It's the billboard cowboy!"

Oh. Right.

My smile dipped for a beat, but I shoved it into place, ignoring the curious patrons at the Black Horse, including a couple of mill employees.

"Hank Cunningham."

"Trinsky." He crushed my fingers, nodding as he studied me as if I were an endangered species he hadn't counted on running into. "You are a fuckin' celebrity, dude. Fuck hockey. Do you know who this is? This is the billboard cowboy!"

"Ah, that was a long time ago." I thanked Bill for the beer he slid toward me and glanced at Denny.

His lips tilted at the corners and then…he winked at me. I was used to the constant yearning now—the head over heels, how did I get here, dizzy feeling whenever he walked into a room. The insta butterflies shouldn't have been a surprise, but they were.

"Denny told me you were here," Trinsky said, ripping me from my reverie. "The team freaked out at the selfie he took a few months ago. You're a goddamn legend in our neck of the woods, dude. Like wow. Jakey baby, do you know who this is?"

Jake gritted his teeth and elbowed Trinsky in the stomach. "Don't call me Jakey, asshole. And yes, of course I know Hank. His family owns the mill nearby."

"Mill, shmill. No one cares about the mill. Trust me, they don't care about it in Denver either. He stops traffic on I-70 on the daily. They talked about the billboard on a podcast I was listening to last week about the natural habitats of beavers and river otters and somehow, they brought up that billboard."

"River otters? Really? What the fuck is a river otter?" a hockey player whose name I couldn't remember piped in.

"It's an otter that lives in the river, dumbass," Trinsky huffed. "What the fuck else would it be? They're little and cute and they hold hands when they sleep. Oh, and they're super furry all over."

"Like you?" someone called out.

"Well, yeah," Trinsky countered.

Our section of the bar burst into laughter while the other half looked up to see what was so funny. I took the opening to slip to Denny's side.

"Sorry about that. I knew he'd be excited, but I forget how hyped Trinsky gets after a beer or five," Denny whispered, brushing his arm against mine.

"No worries. Now you know why I'd like to see that thing gone for good."

"The billboard? No way," Denny huffed, narrowing his eyes. "You guys don't ruin the natural habitat of river otters, do you?"

"Absolutely not. We don't harvest near the river at all. Sustainable harvesting means?—"

"I know what it is. If you guys are protecting little critters, you should put them in your ads," Denny suggested.

"Dude, that's a great idea. Do one of you standing next to your horse with a river otter in the saddle," Trinsky chimed in, frowning when someone laughed. "Yo, it's a good idea. Come on, do it, do it, do it."

Whether anyone knew what he was talking about or not, Trinsky soon had the entire bar chanting "Do it, do it." Someone called for shots and soon after, a tray was passed around.

I set my glass on the bar untouched and melted into the shadows, content to watch Denny interact with his peers. He was more engaged and at ease than I'd ever seen him in a group setting, laughing at silly jokes and outrageous ribbing. I supposed it made sense.

He was home, and now that he'd finally begun to face his grief and fundamental truths about himself, he seemed lighter. This place cleansed him, made him whole.

This was where he belonged.

I envied that. My life had been in a state of flux for years. Denver was home, but I wasn't settled there. My closest friends lived in the suburbs of Boulder or had moved away after college. The only one left was my father. And while I was grateful that he'd orchestrated a job that would enable me to establish myself, money couldn't buy what Denny had here. A sense of community, a connection, home.

I inclined my chin to the guys from the mill, set a twenty on the bar for Bill, and lightly tugged Denny's arm in a wordless good-bye before stepping outside.

The night sky was awash with stars, layer upon layer. I walked with my head held high, key fob pointed at my truck.

I slid behind the wheel and started the engine just as the passenger side door opened.

"I'm coming with you, cowboy."

I snorted. "Billboard cowboy to you."

He chuckled. "Now you see why I needed that selfie?"

"Feels like a lifetime ago."

"Yeah." Denny stared up at the stars for a beat before climbing into the truck. He fastened his seatbelt and twisted to face me. "I'm leaving for New York in two days. They want to talk to me in person…and so does Denver."

"Oh yeah? They're in competition for you, eh?"

"Something like that." He shrugged. "Hey, I'll be back for the end of camp scrimmage, but it'll be a quick trip. If I miss you here, I'll see you in Denver. I mean…we'll talk obviously, but summer is almost over and…I'm not saying good-bye, but?—"

I tipped my hat slightly and set my finger over his lips. "Don't worry. We'll work it out, sweetheart."

His Adam's apple slid in his throat as a smile ghosted the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, we will."

We held hands on the way to my place. We walked quietly upstairs, undressed, and reached for each other.

We moved as one, a beautiful dance for two with tender kisses and soft sighs. And afterward, we lay in the moonlight, sharing skin like a blanket. We didn't speak…there was no need for words. We were nearing an end, hoping it led to a beginning.

The next day, I knew it was over.