by Lucy Score
“Thanks, man,” Lucky said, taking a much more leisurely sip of water. “You hung tough. You train?”
Beau shook his head. “Not for a while. I’m hoping to get back into it.”
“You’re welcome here anytime.” Lucky studied Beau over his protein shake. “You look familiar.”
Hockey players and MMA athletes didn’t usually run in the same circles, but there were always events that overlapped such as the ESPYs and every party Sports Illustrated ever threw. It was very possible he and Lucky had crossed paths before, but it wouldn’t do him any good if the man made the connection now.
“I have that kind of face… or beard. Unless you frequent yoga studios in Chicago?” he added.
“Not likely,” Lucky laughed. “What brings you to town?”
Hope Falls had clearly gotten its hooks in Lucky, Beau thought.
“I’m in town on business,” he said evasively.
“Hang on. Beau, right?”
“Yeah,” he said with reluctance.
“Beau the guy who saved Coach Tubs. You’re staying at my brother’s B&B.”
“Small town,” Beau said weakly.
“No kidding. Watch out or they’ll suck you in, too. There’s an unusual percentage of people who come for a visit and end up getting their feet knocked out from under them, falling in love, and settling down.”
Bristol’s smiling face immediately appeared in his mind’s eye. Their talk last night had been raw and revealing. And hearing her laugh—really laugh—had hit him hard in the chest. He wanted to listen to that laugh again and again. But he wasn’t looking for love, and he sure as hell wasn’t looking to uproot his life and move to Hope Freaking Falls.
“I’m sure most escape unscathed.”
“That’s what I thought, and then I met Deanna running around in the woods shouting my name. She was actually calling a dog,” he said with a grin. “I’m a fighter, but even I knew enough to surrender right then and there.” He shoved a hand through his sweaty dark hair. “And now I wouldn’t have it any other way. Never in a million years would have pictured myself married to a firefighter.”
“A firefighter?” Beau asked. “Did she know Hope Quinn?”
“You knew Hope?”
Beau shook his head. “I met her sister, Bristol.”
“Right! You and she helped save Tubs. That was good work there.”
“Uh, thanks,” Beau said, wishing Lucky would get back on topic.
“Yeah, when Hope had time off of school and residencies and whatever she still volunteered as an EMT. Deanna really liked her. But it’s hard not to like the Quinns.”
“One of those families, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Big Bob and Mary are great people and that extends to their daughters.”
“It must have been a tough year for them,” Beau speculated.
“The worst,” Lucky shook his head. “I can’t imagine going through a loss like that. But the Quinns? They’re strong, you know? They’re in the ICU when the doctor tells them the news, and they decide right then and there to donate Hope’s organs. A time like that for their family, and they’re still thinking about others.”
Beau felt his throat tighten. “They sound like good people.”
“The best. Their oldest daughter is getting married soon. The whole town’s invited, and we’re all hoping a dose of happy will do them good.”
The guilt that had teased at him since he first met Bristol was back and punching him in the gut. He had his reasons for lying. He just hoped Bristol would understand in the end.
“Hey, man. You look like you’re gonna puke,” Lucky said, looking concerned.
“Must have been the last round on the speed bag,” Beau guessed.
“Who’s up for breakfast?” A tall guy with wide shoulders dropped a gym bag in front of them. “I’m hitting Early Bird.”
“Beau, I’m assuming you’ve already met Justin here since you’re here for the yoga retreat.”
Justin cocked his head to one side. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Justin Barnes. My wife, Amanda, and I run Mountain Ridge,” he said, offering a hand.
Shit. Beau hid his wince behind his standard smile-for-the-cameras expression. “Ah, hey. It’s nice to meet you.”
Justin had a firm shake and a friendly face. “Sorry we haven’t met, yet. But there’s a lot of you yogis running around out there.”
“You have a really nice place here,” Beau told him. After Bristol had essentially forced him into the lie about being in town on yoga business, he’d done some online research on Mountain Ridge and its facilities.
“I’m pretty impressed that you’re here for this ass-kicking and then heading back for all those workshops.”
“Yeah. I’m thinking I might have made a mistake,” Beau grimaced. He wasn’t talking about exercise anymore.
“Hey, you’re a yoga instructor! Why don’t you lead us through a stretching sequence for a cool down?” Lucky said, looking like he just had the greatest idea ever.
“That would be awesome,” Justin said, rolling his shoulders. “Otherwise I’m gonna be hurting later, and I like my wife thinking that I’m invincible.”
Lucky jerked his thumb at Justin. “Another one just passing through that fell into the Hope Falls marriage trap.”
“That’s not technically true. I grew up here,” Justin explained to Beau. “My dad and my little brother live here.”
Beau nodded as if enthralled with the conversation. If he could keep them talking, they’d forget all about the impromptu yoga session.
“I was just warning Beau here about the danger to visitors.”
Justin nodded seriously. “Dude, watch your back. Marriage is contagious here, so if you’re not looking for something serious, keep your head down and get out while you still can.”
Lucky snorted. “As if you’d have it any other way.”
Justin grinned. “Yeah, it’s not so bad. Just keep an eye out. I think there’s something in the water here. If you stick around too long, you’ll fall hard for someone.”
“He already met Bristol,” Lucky said helpfully. If the guy wasn’t an MMA champion, Beau would have happily punched him in the face.
“Nice.” There was a lot of meaning Justin put into that one word. And Beau didn’t want to stand around hashing it out.
“I’m just in town for a few days,” he told them defensively. “I’m not looking for something permanent.” Hell, he had no idea what he was looking for. This past year had been nothing but putting one foot in front of the other. One doctor’s appointment after another. Hoping and worrying. He’d left his career behind without a second thought, and with it went the life he’d been comfortably floating through. He’d veered off his predetermined course, a decision he’d never regret.
But now? Now when he’d reached the light at the end of the tunnel, there was one last thing he had to do before he could think about the future. One last promise to keep before moving forward.
“Well let’s get this stretching started so I can head over to Early Bird.” Justin asked. “Bristol’s got a stack of pancakes with my name on it.”
“Oh, we don’t have to do the yoga thing,” Beau began.
“Hey, man. Yoga is an important part of a well-rounded athletic ability.” Lucky sounded like he was quoting a trainer. “Listen up, team. Beau here is going to run us through a quick yoga cool down to recover from that beater.”
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Beau added hopefully. He swore under his breath when every single one of the men and women stayed put.
He could do this. He’d been team captain. He’d done the requisite yoga training session during preseason. He could fake it, right?
“Uh, okay, let’s start by stretching out our calves with… uh, facedown dog…”
––—
Hockey practice wasn’t exactly a complete disaster. None of the kids had broken any bones… yet. But that was about all she could put in the po
sitivity column. Two six-year-olds were locked in an epic battle throwing snowballs, gloves, and whatever else they could get their grubby paws on at each other.
One of the seven-year-olds had his finger so far up his nose she thought he might be mining brain. The rest of them, Violet included, were careening around on the ice like a pinball game in sugared up human form.
She was thankful that their practices took place on King’s Pond instead of the bustling rink just outside of town. There were fewer people here to witness how truly bad the Polar Bears and their new coach were.
Despite the impending disaster of a hockey season, all Bristol could think about was the fact that Beau hadn’t come in for breakfast this morning. Justin Barnes and Lucky Dorsey had and told her they’d met Beau at the gym for the five a.m. class. But he hadn’t joined them for breakfast. He hadn’t come to see her.
It shouldn’t bother her. Should it? They weren’t seeing each other. Heck, they weren’t even friends, she reasoned. They were acquaintances. And she was being an idiot. She was acting like her second grade self when she had that embarrassing crush on Jake Maguire, now Hope Falls’ hunky fire chief and husband of her friend and artist-of-the-month Tessa Hayes.
Well, it was no use pouting or ruminating over Beau French. She had work to do. Somehow.
“Guys!” Bristol shouted through gloved fingers. “Gather around.”
Violet skated over to her, dragging a giggling girl behind her. “What do you want us to do, Mom?”
She wanted them to magically become a professional hockey team. Or, better yet, say they didn’t want to play hockey anymore.
Was that too much to ask?
“How do I make them do stuff?” she asked, pointing at the chaos.
“I don’t know,” Violet shrugged. “You’re a mom. Shouldn’t you know this stuff?”
“Crap,” Bristol said under her breath.
“Forget your whistle, coach?”
She turned on her skates so fast that she almost fell, saving herself at the last possible second by hooking an arm awkwardly over the boards lining the pond’s makeshift rink.
Beau, looking sexier by the second, rested his elbow on the wall.
“Please, for the love of God, tell me you’re here to help,” she begged.
“It’ll cost you,” he warned.
“I don’t care what it costs! Get over here and tell me what to do!”
“I’m willing to bet every cent in my bank account that that’s the first time in your life you’ve ever uttered those words.”
“Beau!”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “Let me put my skates on.”
Bristol’s sigh of relief was short lived. She needed her next inhale to yell at Mickey Raspon, who was wielding his hockey stick like a baseball bat and chasing his little brother who had inexplicably wandered onto the ice. “Hey! Everyone over here, now!”
The mom voice worked and had her rag tag crew of mini hockey wannabes skating over to surround her in a loose circle.
“Okay, guys, as you know, Coach Tubs had to take some time off,” she began.
Noah Barnes raised his hand. “It’s ’cause he had a heart attack and almost died,” he announced, with the wisdom of a six-year-old.
A collective “whoa” rose from the team.
“Coach Tubs is going to be fine,” Bristol said, reassuring them. “But I’ll be your coach for the rest of the season. Do you have any questions?”
Hands shot up everywhere.
“What should we call you? Coach Violet’s Mom?” a little girl in pink leggings and matching hockey skates asked as she scraped her brown curls back from her face.
“How about Coach Quinn?” Beau skated up and stopped next to her sending a shower of ice slivers toward the kids earning another collective “whoa.” Even Bristol was impressed. There was something graceful about the way he moved on and off the rink.
The kids immediately scattered attempting to recreate Beau’s entrance, skidding and sliding around the rink.
“Nice, Beau. Now we’re going to have to round them up again,” Bristol sighed.
He held up a whistle on a cord and dangled it in front of her face. “All kids are programmed to respond to a whistle. They either stop what they’re doing, or they start doing what you told them to.”
She stared at him for a beat.
“What? I’m serious. Try it.” He wiggled the cord.
Bristol snatched the whistle out of his fingers and blew a sharp, shrill tweet. The kids froze and then began to meander back to her.
“Huh,” she said. “It worked.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Quick, what do I do when they get back?”
“Tell them to get ready for a skating drill. Get them in two lines, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Skating drill. Two lines. Got it.” Bristol nodded. “Okay, guys, we’re going to do a skating drill…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Bye, Coach Quinn! Bye Coach Beau!”
The kids packed up and rolled away in minivans and SUVs with whatever carpooling parents had drawn the short straw that day.
Bristol waved them off while Violet chased Beau in and out of the little orange traffic cones they’d set up on the ice. Practice had been an eye-opening experience. The Polar Bears were bad at skating, passing, shooting, and probably defense too. The only thing they excelled at was gravity and whining.
The odds of her leading them to a victorious season was about the same as discovering that she was the long-lost heir to the throne in a teeny tiny European monarchy.
Bristol felt a sense of pride when she managed to skate over to where Beau and Violet were playing without falling on her face or her ass.
“Good job today, Mom,” Violet grinned, pulling up to a stop in front of her.
“Thanks, Vi. You’re really getting good at skating!”
“I know! Hey, watch this,” her daughter chirped whizzing by to skate circles around Beau.
God, if only she had an ounce of that confidence… and energy… and damn balance on ice, Bristol thought.
Beau gave chase to Violet and the two scrambled over the ice laughing and taunting each other. Bristol picked her way through the cones, tucking them under her arm as she went.
She felt the late afternoon air begin to warm and knew Beau was approaching. “You ready for your lesson?” he asked, gliding up to her, Violet on his heels.
“We’re gonna teach you, Mom. Okay?”
Bristol ruffled the purple pom-pom on Violet’s hat, one Hope had given her for Christmas the year before. The one Vi had worn until June before finally letting Bristol pack it up until winter returned.
“You already helped me through practice,” she told Beau, lamely. “You don’t need to stick around.”
Beau looked down at Violet and crossed his arms. “I think someone’s trying to get out of class.”
Violet copied his stance. “Yeah, Mom. Come on! It’ll be fun!”
“I feel a little guilty taking up all your free time while you’re here,” she confessed.
“Bristol, it’s Hope Falls. It’s not like you’re keeping me from an exciting nightlife.”
“But I’m sure there are events going on at Mountain Ridge that you’re missing out on.”
“It’s a yoga retreat. They’re pretty flexible.” He winked.
“Ha.”
“Come on, Mom! Stop stalling!”
Bristol looked at her watch. “Fine, but we’re calling it a night at six.”
“Good. Are you ready, Coach Violet?”
“Ready, Coach Beau!”
They ran her through a few skating drills focusing on stopping, starting, and—when her performance was deemed acceptable—turning. And as she slid and skidded her way around the ice, Beau quizzed her on hockey terminology.
She had no idea what red line icing was, but she understood the concept of a penalty box. “A time out seat,” as Violet had helpfully expla
ined it.
She was going to need a crash course before Wednesday’s game, but at least her feet were steadier.
“Who in the world ever decided, ‘Oh hey, I need to cross this frozen body of water. Let me strap knives to my feet?’” she demanded breathlessly as she finished her final quarter-speed sprint to the rink’s gate where Beau and Violet waited patiently. “An idiot, that’s who!”
She misjudged her speed and then her stopping ability and plowed into Beau knocking him flat on his back. She landed on top of him with an “oomph” driving the air out of them both. Beneath her, his body was even less forgiving than the ice.
Violet doubled over with laughter, her blonde braids swinging from under her hat.
“Body checking’s an advanced lesson, Ace,” Beau told her.
“Sorry,” Bristol gasped, trying to crawl off of him. But his hands clamped down on her hips holding her in place.
“Don’t move,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
“Oh, crap. Did I hurt you?” But she suddenly felt the reason for his demand stir to life hard against her thigh.
“Shit,” he muttered, dropping his head back on the ice.
Bristol went from cold to flaming hot in the half-second it took to see the desire light his green eyes. Sprawled atop him, she could feel his breath on her face, could see the strain of want and need in the clench of his jaw.
“Mom! I’m hungry,” Violet complained in a singsong voice, obviously over the humor of their physical comedy.
“Yeah, uh. Me, too, kid,” Bristol said, not taking her eyes off of Beau. His fingers flexed in her hips, and it felt so incredibly good. She wanted to stay here draped over Beau for the rest of forever. But not with her daughter watching and not on a rapidly cooling November night. She wanted to be in a bed, moving over him under sheets—
Get a damn hold of yourself, she snapped internally.
“One of us is going to have to move,” she whispered finally.
“I swear I usually have more control than this,” he gritted out.
She bit her lip to cover her laugh.
“Don’t you dare laugh at this,” he warned her. “You’ll scar me for life.”
“No laughing, no scarring,” she agreed, not bothering to keep the humor out of her voice.
