Blindsided: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Victoria Denault

  “Join me,” I whisper and step back under the warm water, leaving the door ajar. It takes all of ten seconds and then naked Tate is climbing into the shower stall with me. As the door closes behind him, his mouth finds mine again and the kiss is scorching. He’s demanding and needy, pushing me back against the tiles and sweeping his tongue through my mouth with a dominance that makes me wet in places the water isn’t hitting.

  He’s hard as a rock and pressing into my abdomen but when I reach for him, he steps back. His hands slide up my neck, to my face and his thumb brushes water droplets off the curves of my cheek. His eyes bore into me, serious and dark for a moment before he speaks. “Do you want to take my farm?”

  The water doesn’t suddenly turn cold, but the atmosphere around us does. I blink and can’t quite catch my breath, for all the wrong reasons. “What are you talking about and why are you talking about it right now?”

  He sighs and runs a hand over his wet hair. He can’t seem to look me in the eye. “Hank told me that he thought Daisy and you have this plan to scoop up my farm if it went into foreclosure. That you’ve been itching for that to happen so your family can buy it and expand your business.”

  And now I can’t seem to look him in the eye, so I close them and I hear him swear under his breath. Then I feel the blast of cool air as the shower door opens and he steps out. “Tate, wait!”

  I follow him out of the shower, pausing to grab my towel and turn off the water. “I’m not doing anything to make you lose the farm. I just… Well, we have this idea and we want to expand and your property—”

  “So you’re not only blackmailing me, you’re banking on me losing everything?” Tate says as he pulls his boxer briefs back on, over his soaking wet skin. I wrap my towel around myself.

  “I was, but to be fair, you were thrilled we were going to lose money when you got the market booth and we didn’t,” I reply as he reaches for his shirt on the floor.

  “That’s different,” Tate snaps.

  “Okay, well if it matters, I feel really bad about the fact you might lose the farm now,” I reply. “Even though your family is horrible to us and we owe them nothing, I don’t want to see you lose it…if you really want to keep it. But I’m not sure you do.”

  He still looks furious. “Of course I want to keep it. I’m busting my ass and risking everything to keep the damn thing.”

  “Okay! Okay, it’s just…” Why am I suddenly unable to speak my mind when it’s never been a problem before?

  He tugs his shirt over his head and then reaches for his pants. “I love that land. Unlike you, it hasn’t been in our family for generations, but I grew up there. Maybe apple farming isn’t my favorite thing, but there’s potential to turn it into something else if I can just keep it. If I can hold on to it long enough to get some pro hockey money, I can just live on it without the pressure of making it turn a profit.”

  “Tate, can we talk about this?” I ask but I don’t honestly know what I’m going to say.

  “Are you planning on buying my farm if the bank forecloses?” he says as he buttons up his jeans.

  “We…my family have mentioned it, yes,” I admit.

  And just like that’s he’s gone—out of my bathroom, out my bedroom and down the hall before I can say another word. Not that I’m going to say anything because I have no clue what to say.

  I just watch him go.

  I wrap my towel more tightly around myself and walk to my bay window where I stare out until he’s down the street and completely out of view. I want to yell out the window and tell him to stop. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to explain that I feel horrible about it now that I know him—and like him, a lot. But I don’t say a thing. I just watch him go.

  Because this is for the best. This was never going to be anything. We aren’t fated mates. Not destined to be together. We are enemies by birth, and that is as unchangeable as our DNA. So I throw myself down on my bed, bury my face in my pillow, and refuse to let myself cry.

  16

  Maggie

  “What is your damage?” Daisy asks as I hook a left into the parking lot and she clutches the handle on the door.

  “You need to stop watching eighties movies when you have insomnia,” I mutter. “Your catch phrases are lame.”

  “Speaking of which, why were you the one wandering around last night at like four in the morning if I’m the sister with the chronic insomnia?” Daisy asks, ignoring my dig about her movie preferences.

  I turn off the engine and we both get out of the car. It’s a crappy day, cold and overcast, but it fits my mood. Daisy is looking at me like she’s an FBI agent and I’m a bomb she has to defuse. “Can I do anything?”

  I pause at the trunk of the car as I lift it and look at her. Her big brown eyes are actually soft and sympathetic. I wish I could tell her this. I wish I could pour it all out but I can’t for a million different reasons, the biggest being she would freak the hell out. I don’t want to see her reaction—which would be horror and then disgust—or hear her words of wisdom. Because they will most likely be “You’re crazy. You can’t date him. You’ll destroy our family and our future.”

  “I’m good. I mean, I’m not, but you can’t fix this. I can’t fix this. It’s not a big deal.” I sigh because the worry and concern on her face is deepening instead of dissipating. “It’s a long, crazy story I don’t feel like getting into, so let’s just work, okay? That will get my mind off everything.”

  “Okay. If you say so,” Daisy says and reaches into the open trunk to grab some of the merchandise we brought.

  We carry the coolers full of our cheeses to the stand. As we come around the front of the booth, my disappointment is so severe that it almost winds me. Jace, George and Raquel are there but Tate isn’t. I try to casually glance around as we set up, hoping I’ll spot him somewhere nearby but I don’t.

  “You know,” Daisy says casually as we walk back to the car for another load of goods, “I registered online with the ancestry site. It allows me to build our family tree online. I’ve gone back super far on Mom’s side. Like all the way back to her great, great, great grandmother.”

  “Cool,” I mutter. It is cool, honestly, but I’m just not really in the mood to focus on anything. Where is Tate? Is he skipping the market altogether? Is it because he’s avoiding me?

  “Did you know that our great, great grandmother was named Petunia?” Daisy says and makes a face. “Petunia Harrison. And she named her daughter Amaryllis. I always thought the flower-naming thing for girls on Mom’s side was cute but that’s because no one named us Amaryllis or Petunia. We dodged some serious bullets.”

  “We did,” I mutter as Dad’s truck pulls into the lot. He’s dropping off the stuff we couldn’t fit in the car.

  “Also, because I’ve built the family tree on their site and allowed my profile to be public and my DNA to be in their database, if anyone else matches with us DNA-wise, I’ll get an email notification,” Daisy says and that gets my full attention. “We’ll likely find relatives we didn’t know we had. There was a match on Mom’s side already. This man named Evan who is supposed to be Amaryllis’s son. Lives in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.”

  “Do not bring this up in front of Dad, Daisy,” I say quietly but firmly. “Talk to Mom about it discretely when he’s not around because if he knows you’re on this site, he will figure out who else you’re looking for. Dad is not dumb. And most definitely do not bring it up in front of Clyde.”

  “No. I know. I won’t.” Daisy nods solemnly but gives me a tiny, quick excited smile before our parents get out of their truck. “But it’s exciting right?”

  “In a this-could-end-in-disaster sort of way,” I reply with a frown.

  “Shush,” Daisy says and Dad hops out of the truck and gives us a big smile.

  Two and a half hours later, we’re having a great sales day, but all I can think about is how Tate isn’t here. Mom has already had to drop off more blue cheese because we’ve sold ou
t and Dad came back with more caramels and is upselling a nice lady at the counter, convincing her she needs the bigger jar of honey while Daisy and I prep more samples. That’s when the day takes a turn because I hear George say something to Jace that piques my interest.

  “Where’s the gift basket the city purchased?” George asks his grandson.

  I glance over at them. Raquel is ringing up one customer with her best resting bitch face on full display while Jace hands another one a sample of their caramel apples. George is digging around at the back of the booth, I assume for this basket he mentioned.

  “I left it in the cooler because I didn’t want the apple butter to get too runny,” Jace explains.

  I can’t help but stare as he walks over and opens a cooler and pulls out a nicely decorated wicker basket filled with Adler Farms products. George admires it. “Did you decorate this, Raquel honey? It looks wonderful.”

  Raquel turns away from the customer without so much as a “thanks and come again” and beams at her grandfather. “Thanks Gramps. I worked on it last night. I would have done much better if Jace had bothered to give me more notice.”

  “I think it’s lovely, doll.” George kisses the top of his granddaughter’s head and then turns to Jace with a frown. “You really shouldn’t spring stuff on your cousin like that. She’s talented, but it isn’t fair.”

  Jace rolls his eyes. “Next time I’ll find the ribbon and glue gun and do it myself.”

  “That’s not the answer. Stop being a smart ass,” George snaps.

  “Hey folks!” Ethel Morris walks up and smiles from under the brim of the biggest straw hat I have ever seen. “Happy Market Day!”

  “Hi, Ethel,” I say smiling back. Everyone else greets her just as warmly. “Are you here to grab some goat cheese? Honey?”

  Ethel smiles warmly. “Oh sweetie, I’m not doing my personal shopping just yet. Business before pleasure. My city always comes first. I’m here for the gift baskets.”

  “What gift baskets?” Daisy asks before I get the chance.

  “Not your concern, girls,” Jace says firmly and turns to Ethel with a smile as he hands her the basket George was yammering on about. “Here you are, Ethel. It’s under budget too at forty-five dollars and forty-nine cents. But we’ll round down and call it forty-five. Because we love our city as much as you do.”

  Ethel beams at that, although it’s hard to really see her face with that silly hat. Seriously, the thing is like a flying saucer on her head. She takes the basket and puts it down on the table in front of her as she rummages around in the fanny pack around her waist. She pulls out a fistful of money and counts forty-five dollars into Jace’s outstretch hand.

  “Ethel, do you mind if I ask what is this for?” Dad asks.

  “The town hall sent an email to the fall market participants. You didn’t get it?” Ethel looks confused and digs in her fanny pack again and pulls out a rumpled piece of paper. She smooths it out and clears her throat like she’s about to give a speech.

  I watch my dad’s face contort in frustration as Ethel begins to speak. “Dear fall market entrepreneurs, the town council would like to purchase gift baskets from each of you at a cost of fifty dollars or less per basket, per booth. These baskets should feature the best of your products and will be raffled off by the city during our new annual Harvest Festival. It’s our way to give back to you, our local businesses while also promoting all you have to offer. Please be sure to include marketing material about your business and its location as we hope it will attract you new business. Sincerely, your town council.”

  Ethel looks up smiling.

  “We didn’t get that email,” I say with anger igniting inside me as I see Jace’s smug smile. “We don’t have a basket for you.”

  “Oh… I…” Ethel looks at the paper again and after a minute she looks up, relieved. “Oh it’s okay. You’re not on the list, so we couldn’t pay you for it anyway. No worries.”

  She shoves the paper back in her fanny pack and picks up the basket.

  “No. I mean we should have been on the list. We’re part of the market. We are half of this booth.”

  Ethel looks stricken. “But you and Tate agreed not to share the booth last time we talked, remember? You never told us you changed your minds.”

  “They didn’t. The police officer told them they had to share,” George Adler barks at poor little Ethel who looks more confused than ever.

  Daisy and I exchanged panicked glances. Shit. Daisy steps up. “We can throw together a basket today and run it right over to you at city hall before evening.”

  “But there’s only allowed to be one basket per booth.” Ethel waves the wrinkled per in the air again. “We don’t have the funds for more than that, and the Adlers have already made this basket.”

  I glare at Jace. He just shrugs at me. “Sorry. It’s our booth. I guess when the sheriff or whoever forced us to share, they didn’t bother to include this. Not our fault.”

  “You’re a piece of—”

  “I wonder why Officer Humphries never told me he made you share after all? Maybe if he tells the mayor about the arrangement we can squeeze in a basket from you in the budget,” Ethel says, still looking very confused, and I realize that if I don’t drop it, our little arrangement will be exposed.

  “No worries, Ethel,” I say loudly and then smile as brightly as I can muster. “It’s a lovely idea. We’ll get in on it next time. Have a great day.”

  Ethel smiles and wanders off with the Adlers’ basket.

  “You feel awfully good about yourself, don’t you?” Dad snarls at Jace who looks so full of himself I kind of want my dad to slug him.

  “Look, Mr. Todd, no one wants you and your stinky cheese here to begin with,” Raquel pipes in.

  “Shut up, Raquel,” Daisy snaps.

  “I know you weren’t raised by anyone with class, but that’s not how you talk to people young lady,” George Adler growls.

  “You want to talk about class, George, really?” Dad actually looks like he might hit someone now and I panic and step in between him and George. “The guy who goes out for a beer and comes home two days later when he’s got a newborn at home.”

  “Your drunk daddy tell you that?” George hisses. “Must have been one of his drunken hallucinations. My wife is still here. Where is his?”

  “Okay everyone just STOP!” Daisy hollers so loudly that people walking by stop and stare.

  “Great, one of the redheads is making a scene,” Raquel mutters.

  “Dad, go home. We’ve got this,” I say and wrap my hands around his bicep, which feels tense and hard. I look down and see his fists in balls. I squeeze harder and give him a little tug. “Seriously, Daddy, please. Don’t do this.”

  He glances down at me and he softens, both his stance and his expression. He gives me a small smile. “You’re right, Magnolia. He isn’t worth the time it would take to knock him out. No Adler is worth our time.”

  After this discovery, I think he might be right. And it makes my heart ache.

  The rest of the day drags on painfully and when it’s finally five o’clock, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Daisy and I have to pack up on our own because we sent Dad home, so it takes longer than I want. Raquel disappeared before the market ended, and George takes off with one load of stuff leaving Jace on his own. He’s folding up their banner when I walk back to get ours.

  “So where is Tate?” I ask. “Why wasn’t he here today?”

  Jace looks up. His eyes are not green like Tate’s, but they’re the same shape and hold the same intensity when he glares. “Why should I tell you?”

  I shove our own banner in the box with our honey. “I go to school with him, so I will find him whether you like it or not.”

  “He had a hockey thing. You know they have their first game next weekend,” Jace says. “And for the record, even if he was here, nothing would have changed.”

  “So he knew about the gift basket?” I ask.

&
nbsp; Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

  Jace nods. “He knew. He told me what to put in it.”

  I walk away without another word, but Jace isn’t finished talking unfortunately. “He doesn’t want you here any more than the rest of us do.”

  I hate that I think he’s probably right, but I know for a fleeting minute that not so long ago, that wasn’t the case.

  I drive back to the farm with Daisy and busy myself with putting away all our market stuff and products that didn’t sell. My eyes keep wandering over to the shipping container. I hate looking at it now. Daisy watches me with concern but doesn’t bug me. Mom appears on the back porch. “You girls come in and grab dinner before you leave. I know you’re not eating enough, and I made roast chicken with the gravy you both love.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Daisy says and kisses her cheek. All I can do is muster a smile and a nod.

  But as we make our way across the backyard toward the house, I realize I’m not going to be able to eat a thing or get through idle chit chat with my family. And if any of them bring up the Adlers and what happened today at the market with the gift basket, I will probably cry out of frustration and sadness that Tate would not only do that to me but is so done with me he didn’t even show up to tell me himself. And then I’ll have a lot of explaining to do, so when we get to the porch I walk toward my car instead of walking through the screen door my mom is holding open.

  “Maggie, where are you going?” Mom asks, concern crinkling her forehead.

  “I forgot about an assignment due tomorrow. I need to go home and get started,” I say with a frown to sell it. “I’m sorry. This week has been a blur and I just spaced.”

  “That’s not like you,” Mom continues to look worried. “You sure you don’t have just half an hour? You need food.”