Cold As Puck: A Cold Love Series Novel Page 6

  Roman laughed, and my head whipped toward him. There was that beautiful, deep laughter I’d craved for years. I’d missed it. My heart felt stuck. We weren’t even out of the shop yet, and I already knew I’d made a mistake.

  I untied the knot at the base of my neck, slipped the apron over my head, and hung it behind the register.

  “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back.” I raised a hand to stop him from following me. “Oh, and lock the front door for me?”

  “Sure.”

  He nodded, and I jogged up the stairs to the safety of my apartment. I pushed the door in place and tried to silence the hammering in my chest as I looked around wildly for what to do next. I was supposed to be changing clothes, but I saw my dirty coffee cup in the sink and the plate I had used for my toasted bagel. I spotted crumbs on the counter. There was a pile of clean laundry on the couch and a basket of dirty towels in the hallway.

  I raced from one task to another, not quite ready to face my closet and what I should wear for my first date with Roman in four years.

  I held up a shirt with black stripes and then a dress with pink stripes. I thought about calling Lee, but that would mean making a big deal out of dinner. She’d freak out with happiness. But everyone else?

  My dad would be concerned. Gruff. Disappointed.

  He lived in a world that was black and white. He always had. There was right and wrong. Good and evil. No place for the in-between emotions that seemed to live inside me the deepest.

  It made our relationship strained at times. Maybe never more than when I told him I was dating the Russian-American hockey player who went to my college.

  “You’re what?” he had scoffed. I had waited until after dinner when he was in his study with a book. I'd been home for a long weekend, Roman away for a three-day series. Too far for me to travel with him.

  “I thought you’d want to know I was dating someone. And how ironic it is that he’s from Penny Hill, too, but we didn’t meet until a few months ago.”

  Dad blinked at me. “I know who he is. His mom is Ruby Sorrow, the seamstress.”

  “She’s really nice."

  He had folded the cover inside the book to hold his place. “I’m not worried about how nice Ruby is.”

  “Then what? You’ve never met him. You can’t not like him.”

  “What do you know about his family in Russia?”

  My forehead creased and my temples hurt. “Dad, no. We aren’t going there.”

  “Have you asked? Does he go back often?”

  I had risen from the chair and returned the remote to the coffee table. We would have to skip our usual Jeopardy time, when I scratched out our scores on a notepad. I had been looking forward to it. The game show was something we always watched together.

  “He is a good person. He’s American, Dad. And he treats me really well. I wish that could be enough.”

  His close haircut always made my dad look younger than he actually was. “I wish it was enough, too. But I’ve been in my position too long to accept anyone at face value.”

  “That’s really sad.” I'd heard the Jeopardy music in the background. “You aren’t going to look into him, are you?”

  Our eyes had locked. “Not unless he comes across my desk.”

  My shoulders had relaxed then. “I’m going upstairs to read. Good night.” There wasn’t anything I could do to change his mind.

  “Good night, sweetheart.” He had picked up his book, not seeming to mind as much as I had that our plans had shifted.

  I'd thought back on that night many times since. It was the reason I had been scared to death to introduce Lee to my father. He never once mentioned her family in Korea, and as far as I knew, he didn’t ask Lee any suspicious questions. He saved all those gems for Roman.

  I clasped the denim dress in my hands. It was perfect. Exactly the right vibe for dinner with the man who had skated back into my life.

  12

  Roman

  I waited downstairs while Sophie changed her clothes for dinner. She wouldn’t let me take the first step onto the staircase that led to her upstairs apartment, and I didn’t press the issue. I grabbed a book in the military history section and sat down to flip through the pages with an ankle over my knee. I tried to relax, but I was having a hard time sitting still. I shoved the book back on the shelf and pulled another one, not able to read anything about the Vietnam War. My eyes kept darting to the staircase. My neck craned a little farther, listening for sounds of her footsteps.

  After fifteen minutes I began to pace. What was taking her so long? Had she stood me up? Maybe it was the first of many attempts to punish me for what I had done.

  I considered walking out of the Golden Page. I could take a hint. But something stirred in my chest. Something told me that no matter how furious Sophie still was, I couldn’t leave it like this.

  I shelved the last book I had attempted and stormed to the inner staircase. It had been almost twenty minutes by now.

  The door at the top of the stairs creaked open, and I saw her. Her soft brown eyes looked down on me, and I gripped the handrail. She had let her hair fall to her shoulders and added a few strokes of makeup, including lip gloss.

  Sophie wore a fitted denim summer dress with thin straps and a short hemline. As she descended the steps, I noticed the sun and moon necklace layered on her neck. She looked incredible. Beautiful, soft, and sexy.

  Our eyes locked when she was only two steps above where I stood. I couldn’t find a reason to move. My fingers lifted instinctively, ready to circle her waist and draw her to me, but I had to find a way to restrain myself from falling into old habits. Especially habits that could land me with a black eye.

  “You look beautiful, Soph.” I swallowed, curling my fingers into a ball.

  “I didn’t really know what to wear.” She couldn’t decide whether to accept the compliment.

  “That.” I nodded. “It’s perfect.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked. I still hadn’t moved.

  “Any new places around here?”

  Her eyes lifted to the ceiling as if she was considering a long list of possibilities. I only knew of one new restaurant in town.

  “There is a new Mexican restaurant. It opened last year. Want to try it?”

  “How are the margaritas?” This close to her, I could smell her perfume. It was laced with coconut, just like I’d always remembered. Sophie always smelled like summers on the beach even when the fire roared and we were tucked inside during an ice storm.

  “Strong,” she answered.

  “Then that’s the place.” I winked.

  “You still think we should do this?”

  I took in a full breath of air. Air that was part Sophie, part anxiety, part regret, part fear. My lungs stretched against my healing ribs, and I winced.

  “You okay?” She leaned toward me. There was worry in her eyes.

  “I’m good,” I lied. “Ready for tacos and margaritas?”

  Her head bobbed as she took another two steps. “I need to turn off the rest of the lights,” she explained. “Then we can take the alley door.”

  “Can I help?” I offered.

  “Sure. Just flip all the switches on the far wall. I’ll get the ones on this side and behind the register.”

  I walked across the store in the opposite direction, searching the wall for light switches. The store fell into darkness except for the spotlights in the front windows. They cast giant shadows on the back walls and on the floor around my feet.

  “Kind of creepy in here.” I met her in the middle of the store.

  Sophie laughed. “Scared the books might come to life?” she teased.

  “Has it ever happened before?”

  She shook her head. “No. Not yet.” Her eyes followed me.

  “How’s your hockey section in this place?” We breezed between two sets of bookcases.

  Sophie glanced at me over her shoulder. “Who said there is one?”

  I
laughed. “Okay. Okay. Let’s just get the margaritas ordered.”

  * * *

  A candle in a red glass bowl flickered between us. There were colored Christmas lights strung overhead along with a sea of upside-down sombreros. It was part of the namesake, Sombreros. Some sort of theme restaurant. Places like this didn’t usually last in Penny Hill, but Sombreros had been in business a year and was still kicking. In fact, it seemed busier than Puck Pub.

  Our waitress dropped off a basket of chips and a bowl of salsa. I grabbed one and dipped it in the bowl. She brought the pitcher of margarita and two glasses next. I poured one for Sophie and then me.

  “Seems like we should toast.”

  “We should?” Her eyes widened.

  I lifted the heavy glass, rimmed with salt and dotted with a lime wedge. “To putting the past behind us.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Really?”

  “Why not?” I shrugged. My glass was in the air, and hers was not.

  “That one doesn’t feel right.”

  I sighed. “Okay. How about to calling a truce?”

  Her eyes dropped as if she was trying to stifle a laugh.

  “That one?” I tested again.

  She clanked her glass to mine. “Fine. To calling a truce.”

  I chugged a few sips of the margarita. The salt was too heavy, and the lime fell on the table, but it was good and strong.

  “So, how is it being back at your mom’s house?” It was the first genuine question she had asked me.

  I rested my elbows on the table. “Strange,” I answered. “I have my old room. Posters on the walls. Same navy and green quilt she made me. It’s like a time warp every time I go in there. Or a shrine. I can’t tell which. Nothing has changed.”

  “Except you.” Her voice was soft, but not shy.

  “I haven’t been home in a long time. A lot of things are different.” I stuck another chip in the salsa. “I’ve been trying to help her out around the house. Mowed the grass a few times.”

  “Sounds like a summer full of fun,” Sophie teased.

  “She seems glad to have me home.”

  “And why are you home?” The margarita was in her slender fingers. Her eyes were on me.

  I shrugged. “Time off.”

  She shook her head. “I thought this dinner was actually about something important. Something truthful. You’re already feeding me some stupid story about how you’re here to pull weeds in flower beds.”

  “How do you do that?” I stared at her.

  “What? Call you on your bullshit?”

  “Yes, that.”

  “Hmm. Maybe because I knew you pretty well.” I didn’t like that she used the past tense. Our knowing. Our connection. Our entire relationship.

  “I think you still do,” I countered.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She sipped the margarita, tossing the lime into the center to float in the tequila. “But which version of the story are you going to tell me? Have you decided?”

  “The team gave me an ultimatum.”

  Her head popped back. “What kind of ultimatum?”

  “It was either spend the off-season here and get my head straight, or they would take care of it.”

  “I don’t understand. What does 'get your head straight' mean?” The brown in her eyes swirled with questions. Why couldn’t I just tell her? Why the hell was it so hard?

  “They have some concerns. They think I need to deal with my dad’s death.” I couldn’t believe I was explaining this much of it. This version I could tolerate somewhat.

  “Are they right?” she asked carefully.

  “No,” I snapped. “I’m good, but I have to do grief counseling or whatever shit they throw at me so I can return for training camp.”

  “Roman, that’s serious. Really serious.”

  “I’m going, okay? I’ll be back, and this will all blow over.”

  Her lips pinched together. Suddenly, I remembered what that look meant.

  “Is the counseling here in Penny Hill?”

  “It is. I’m seeing Lina Falcon.”

  She reached across the table. I didn’t know why the contact her fingers made with my forearm startled me. “I’m glad you’re going. I’m glad you have someone to talk to.”

  “I don’t need to talk to anyone, Soph. I’m only going because I have to. My contract is on the line.”

  Her lashes fluttered. “You don’t think there’s anything you could get out of it?”

  “What are you getting at?” I questioned.

  Her fingers were still on my arm, and I didn’t want her to pull away, but the questions were closer than I wanted. I felt my chest tighten. It was harder to breathe.

  “I don’t know. Maybe being back in Penny Hill with all this unresolved stuff and having someone to talk to about it will be cathartic. A chance to self-reflect.”

  “Self-reflect?” She was doing it. Pushing. Needling. Prying into places that were locked tightly. Places that had never seen daylight.

  “Forget it, Roman.” Her hand retracted and she picked up the menu. “We should stick to tacos. Not therapy. I forgot.”

  It was a snap decision to hide the full truth from her. But it was too late to change what I had said. She had already retreated. Her touch lingered on my skin, but there wasn’t anything to do to get it back. I refilled our glasses and smiled when the waitress came to take our orders.

  13

  Sophie

  Something was off. I heard every word Roman said, but it didn’t make sense. Why grief counseling? Why now? And was it something his team would push him to do? He was guarded and closed about it. I had to remind myself we weren’t close any longer. It had been years since he had confided in me. It truly wasn’t my business anymore. Maybe I was overstepping my bounds by pushing for answers.

  I was in the middle of my third margarita when I let go of his summer tale and fell into flirting. Shameless, overt flirting.

  “How’s your dad doing?” he asked. I swore the red candle made his eyes look purple. A beautiful hue of deep lavender.

  “Good,” I replied, stirring the lime in my drink. “He’s in Afghanistan right now.” I leaned forward slightly, knowing there was a gap in the top of my dress. “He comes home in two months.”

  “Spy stuff?” He chuckled.

  “You know he doesn’t tell me, but intelligence something-or-other.” I inhaled another gulp of margarita. “He says he’s safe where he is and not to worry.” I tried to count backward how many days it had been since we had FaceTimed.

  “Is he ever going to retire?”

  “Colonel Fairchild will have to be dragged out of the military kicking and screaming like a child if they ever want him to leave.” My dad was one of the few who hadn’t retired at his age.

  “Can I attend that ceremony?” Roman joked.

  “Absolutely.” I smiled. “Although I don’t think it’s an official military sendoff when they have to do it that way.”

  “And Lee? What is she up to?”

  I took a bite of taco. I needed to fill my stomach with something other than lime and tequila. “She’s a paralegal for Billy Wickston,” I explained between bites of my food. “She likes it. I still think she wants to take the bar. She keeps talking herself out of it.”

  “What do you think is holding her back?”

  “She’s happy working for Billy. I don’t think she can picture a life where she takes that leap, you know? It’s a lot of pressure.”

  “Sure. I understand too much pressure at work.”

  I followed his eyes. There was sadness and a heaviness I wanted to ease. I remembered how I had used to put him back together. How I would hold him and stay up until the sun rose. I doubted I had the strength to comfort him any longer. Whatever demons he faced since we broke up seemed darker and vaster now.

  “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?” he asked.

  I blinked, not sure how to take the question. Were we going to talk abou
t the breakup?

  “Come on, I want to know about the Golden Page. I’d heard about it, but seeing what you did to that empty building…it’s…I’m impressed. I was always impressed with you, but really. How did you decide to open a bookstore?”

  I almost choked. In only a matter of seconds I had geared myself up to deploy emotional strategies, and then he took a sharp turn. The Golden Page was a part of our history, but only the shell of it.

  “I really didn’t know what I was going to do with the building. I sat on it for a few months.” I didn’t think I needed to tell him it was because getting out of bed after he left took all the willpower I had. “Lee actually helped me. She stumbled on an online listing for someone trying to unload a warehouse full of books. A crazy number of books that were supposed to be backup stock for a guy in Tennessee. But his store went under and he just wanted out. He sold two big storage units full of stock.” I wished I had more salt on my glass, but it was all licked off. “Lee and I drove to Tennessee. I paid him cash for the books, and we rented a U-Haul to bring them back to Penny Hill.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  I nodded. “It was. I started chipping away at the business plan once I had the books.” I exhaled. “I’m still chipping away, to be honest.”

  “But you’re okay? The Golden Paige is in the black? It looks like it’s turning a profit.”

  I laughed. “Looks can be deceiving. I’m okay. But the budget is tight, and I am completely dependent on the holidays to make my numbers for the year.”

  “Shit, Sophie. That’s high-stress.”

  I lifted the margarita glass in the air. “Yes, it is. But I’m making it work.” I took a gulp.

  “You always seemed to be able to do that.” He smiled sadly. “I’m glad the building worked out for you, and it makes sense. Books. That’s what you know.”

  I wondered if that’s how he saw me. The freshman girl in the library, with her nose stuck in a book.

  Roman had paid for the bill thirty minutes ago, but neither one of us was ready to leave the table or Sombreros. He poured the last bit from the pitcher into my glass. A few drops splashed on his plate.