I plucked the keychain out of the pile. “First, I doubt you’re a fan of Greg’s Keg’s.” I noticed her squint at the item.
“Ah thought that was something else…just the pen and gum then—and the shoes, of course. Thank you.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw the kid nudge at her.
She glanced at him and huffed. Then looked back at me. “By the way, I couldn’t find where you keep the ice skates, or any hockey items for that matter. Where can I find them?”
I rang up her items, my focus on the register. “We don’t carry those.”
She watched me bag the goods. “Oh okay, it’s…strange, I mean, you seem to carry just about everything under the moon.” She had that nervous laugh that people had when they couldn’t make sense of something.
“I can recommend a place for you.” I picked up another box of cleats I’d pulled from the stockroom a few moments ago. “But also, I forgot, we’re having a two for the price of one sale on cleats today. So I picked up next year’s size for you. No extra charge.” I offered, adding the additional pair in the brown shopping bag.
The blond’s untrusting eyes shot up to me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Actually I do, it would only be fair, unless you’d rather grab a different pair? I’ll wait,” I said flatly.
Those eyes, suddenly confident enough to challenge me. “I looked it up earlier. You don’t have coupons.”
“We don’t announce them publicly.”
The kid tugged on her sweater. “Could we go to that other place now, mom?”
“Are you crazy? Everything is closed and we need to go home. Besides, it’s not like you can jump into a pair of skates tomorrow. We need to get you some lessons.”
Jax pointed to the wall behind me where several athletic lessons were posted as advertisements. “Maybe he knows someone who can teach me to skate and play hockey.”
Tall order, buddy.
I sucked my teeth. “Sorry not here. I’ve got someone who can help you out with baseball though.”
“Coach Tom helps me with baseball. Are there hockey coaches?”
“I’m sure there are.” I nodded but didn’t add to it.
Hot mom swung her head back to me and her lip turned up at the corner. “You got something against hockey?”
“Do you?”
“No,” she answered quickly. “The owner of this place seems to.”
I scoffed, finished with this conversation, and turned to the kid, whose heart-stopping features were hard to disappoint. “Look, there’s nothing up here at the moment for hockey coaches.”
She studied the board of ads behind me. There must had been forty. Her eyes settled back to mine. “Hmm…odd.”
“I know how to skate mom. Let’s just go get them.”
“When was the last time?” she mumbled, stuffing her receipt in her wallet.
“Like two years ago at the rink…with dad.”
She stiffened. “Okay you were five. How would you know if you even like it?”
“Coach Tom told me you either love the ice or hate it.”
“That’s very true. Probably,” I added to a conversation that didn’t concern me one bit.
“Do you skate?” Jax asked me.
