“I don’t understand the question, young man. Are you in town tomorrow? Is there any way we could convince you to step in for David? We’d greatly appreciate it and you’d get a dozen Christmas cookies for your help.”
Colton buried his face in Jake’s shoulder to hide his laughter.
Nick scanned the crowd while moving his hand to link his fingers with Maisie’s. “You said he was the greatest of all time. What sport does he play?”
Jake had one arm around Colton while someone in the circle showed him a photo on his phone. Jake laughed loudly.
“Goats don’t play sports. If you can’t do it that’s fine, but there’s no reason to be cheeky,” Hester said, crossing her arms as well as she could in her puffer jacket.
Nick took a small step back and Maisie felt the tension seeping into him like slow filling a balloon. She squeezed his fingers tightly and he gripped hers back.
“Uh, Nick?” Colton called. “They mean an actual goat.”
The guy beside him turned his phone to show a picture of a grayish-white goat with a big red bow around his neck.
Hester looked over to Colton then back at Nick. “Of course I mean an actual goat. What else would I mean?”
Maisie turned her face into Nick’s arm, biting her lip. Oh God. She was worried about him having a public panic attack and he was being asked to step in for a barn animal.
He dipped his head so his lips touched her ear. “You laughing at me, Maze?”
She nodded against his arm. “Yes. When was the last time you got asked to step in for livestock?”
“That would be never.”
She lifted her head and knew her smile was on the side of ridiculous as she beamed up at him. “Then this would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Chapter Eleven
NICK’S BODY VIBRATED AShe walked into the house ahead of the others. There was no way he could be anywhere near Maisie right this second andnotwant her. Her brother and Colt had already sent them a few inquiring looks and his sister had already picked up on something. He needed to cool himself down, settle himself.
Ditching his shoes and jacket at the door, he hurried through the house, going up the stairs, pulling at the collar of his sweater. Why the hell was it so hot in here? He would have gone straight to his room, started to, but he heard the all-too-familiar sounds of hockey.
How could a sound soothe and agitate him in the exact same second? For most of his life, it only soothed, but until he figured out what was next for his career, it unsettled him as well. Nick wandered past his room, down the second hallway until he was standing in the doorway of the media and games room Ellie outfitted upstairs.
His heart felt like it puffed up in his chest. Asher was racingback and forth, the custom-designed stick Nick had sent him for his birthday moving easily and naturally from side to side, controlling a little orange puck. His little helmet-covered head swiveled, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Or like he’d watched Nick’s games many times. He wore the replica jersey Nick sent him for his birthday last year.
It was almost too adorable to actually absorb. How many times had the kid done this?How much are you missing by being gone all the time?The TV was too loud and the announcer’s voice rang through the room at a fevered pitch. Nick moved into the room, Asher not even noticing as he headed for the remote.
“King gets the pass from Sanders from the other side of the ice. King turns, starts heading up the boards. He’s beating the defender, he stops. He spins. He looks. He feeds the puck to the center of the ice. One-timer. GOAL!!! Here comes the Guardian celebration as King pulls his stick up, slashes it down like a dagger going through the ice. And just like that—”
With the press of a button, the room went blissfully silent. Asher stopped in front of him, looking like a real-life bobble head with the helmet.
“Uncle Nick. I’m you. Let’s play,” he said.
Nick grinned as he crouched down and put his hands on Asher’s waist. “You’ve got great form, bud. And you’refast. You must be practicing all the time.”
Asher nodded proudly.
Nick lowered his chin. “But I thought there were no hockey pucks in the house.” He was allowed to use a small nerf ball that would do little to no damage. Ellie learned that one the hard way.
Asher’s little face scrunched up, his lips pursing, making Nick laugh. “Where’s your mom?”
His nephew leaned in. “Shower,” he whispered.
Nick shook his head. “Make you a deal—we’ll play hockey outside in the driveway after dinner. For now, how about a game of air hockey?”
Asher’s shoulders slumped. “Okay.”
