Blindsided: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Victoria Denault

“Can you drive Daisy home with a doggie bag for me?” I ask with a hopeful smile.

  “Will do,” Mom says.

  Luckily, Daisy was too hungry to even stop and eavesdrop on our conversation because she would totally pepper me with a billion questions: What assignment? Which class? Didn’t you just say a couple days ago that the semester workload was light so far?

  I hop in the car and make my way down the drive. I pause and then turn the other way on the main road—the way that leads to campus and the hockey house and not my apartment.

  It’s a little after seven thirty when I park across from Tate’s. The lights are on in what seems to be every damn room in the giant, old house. Great. It means his teammates are likely home. There is no way to be stealthy here. If I go in there, everyone will know. I take a deep breath, try to talk myself out of it, and fail.

  I march up the steps and bang a closed fist on the front door.

  “Come in!” someone yells.

  I open the door and step inside. It smells good. Like, simmering tomatoes and fresh basil. I take a few, small tentative steps. The living room is right off the front door and two guys—Lex and Cooper if my memory is working—are sitting there on the battered couch playing a video game on the TV. Hockey, of course.

  “No! No fucking way!” One of them howls as the other one leaps up off the couch in victory.

  “Loser!” Cooper yells and points to the guy sitting down who tosses his controller on the scuffed wood coffee table with disgust. “You are cleaning the toilets next week!”

  “When did you get good at this?” Lex grumbles. “If only you were as good on the actual ice.”

  Kicking back in two beat up recliners, watching it all unfold, are the identical twins—Patrick and Paxton. I don’t think they live here, but it makes sense they’d be hanging out here.

  “Hey all,” I say and they all turn and look at me.

  “Hi,” Patrick is the first to greet me with a big smile. “I bet you’re not here for me, unfortunately.”

  “No. I’m here for—”

  “Tate,” Lex says and he smiles too. It’s less confident and more awkward, in a cute way.

  “Tate!” Patrick yells. “You might want to run.”

  “What are you going on about, Graham?” I hear Tate’s voice from the back of the house. He wanders out of what I assume is the kitchen, barefoot and in a pair of faded jeans and a Moo U T-shirt, holding a dish towel. He looks relaxed and gorgeous and it makes my heart twist painfully.

  He looks up and sees me there and freezes. Patrick and Lex are now glued to the scene in front of them, their eyes bouncing back and forth between Tate and me like the audience at the U.S. Open watching a finals match.

  “We need to talk,” I say flatly.

  “I don’t want to talk,” Tate replies, in a monotone. “That’s why I didn’t go to the market today.”

  “You should have been there to see my face when I found out you screwed us out of the gift basket money and publicity,” I snap and cross my arms. “I was furious. And hurt. You would have loved it.”

  Tate just stares like he didn’t hear what I said or doesn’t understand it. “Are you drunk?”

  “Do I look drunk?” I bark.

  “Well, you’re a little flushed,” Patrick pipes up. “People get flushed when they drink.”

  “Patrick, can you go stir the sauce for me and make sure the pasta doesn’t overflow?” Tate says and tosses the dish towel at him. It hits the back of his head. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Make Coop do it. I don’t even live here.” Patrick reminds Tate.

  “Lex should do it. He’s the house chore whore now,” Cooper suggests, grinning.

  “Can someone just stir the fucking sauce?” Tate snaps.

  Lex nods and picks up the dish towel from Patrick and walks toward the kitchen without a word. Patrick just sits there, still staring at Tate and me like we’re his own personal television drama. Tate flips him the bird and then looks at me and points at the stairs. “Let’s go finish this in private.”

  “Oh come on! It was just getting good!” Cooper complains.

  I follow Tate to the stairs and we climb them in silence all the way up to his room on the third floor. As we enter his room I try not to think about the last time I was here and how well that argument turned out. If only I could be that lucky this time around.

  “What the hell were you talking about down there?” Tate asks as he leans his butt on the edge of his desk.

  I want to pace but the room is too small, so I just fold my arms across my chest and stand near the door. Why does everything hurt so much? This was just supposed to be a physical thing without strings, so whether it finished with a bang or a whimper it shouldn’t make my chest ache. “Ethel sent you an email saying city hall would pay for gift baskets from each farmer’s market vendor that they would then give away at an event later this month.”

  He stares at me for a long moment, like he’s frozen. Then he says, “What?”

  I know instantly his confusion is real, not fake. I feel it in my bones. “Jace said you got the email. He made it seem like you purposely didn’t tell us.”

  “And you believed him.” Tate tilts his head to the side in disbelief.

  “You left my house last night so angry and you didn’t show up today,” I reply.

  “And you think I’m that guy?” Tate questions and then lifts himself off the desk and sighs. “Of course you do. I’m an Adler and you think we’re all just genuinely assholes.”

  He walks across his room and grabs his phone from the nightstand where it’s plugged into a charger. As he starts punching something on the screen someone calls up the stairs. “Adler! Dinner is ready!”

  “Start without me!” Tate yells back. “But leave me some or I will beat you with my hockey stick.”

  He hits speaker on his phone and holds it out in front of him. It rings twice and then I hear someone answer. “Hey, Tate.”

  “Jace, did you fuck over the Todds?” Tate says bluntly.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Something about a gift basket every booth member was supposed to supply and you got an email about it,” Tate refreshes his memory. “And you didn’t tell the Todds, or me.”

  “I didn’t screw anyone,” Jace says and Tate opens his mouth to speak but Jace keeps going. “Well, I did, but I had every right to. It’s our booth, Tate. Not theirs. You never said they had the right to anything other than one side of the booth. And I did tell you about the basket and you told me to handle it, you were swamped. So I did handle it by not telling the stupid Todds and not bothering you with that little bit of info.”

  “You’re splitting hairs Jace, and it’s bullshit. You should have told them,” Tate replies. “We’re going to give them half of the money we were paid for that basket or we’re going to go tell Ethel it’s a joint basket and pull out some of our products and let them add theirs. Those are your choices.”

  “Fuck that,” Jace snaps. “You know what? You didn’t even bother to show up today so I made a decision and I’m sticking to it. Gramps knew about it and thought it was a good idea, and it’s technically his farm, so deal with it. I’m done playing nice with these jerks and it’s annoying everyone, by the way, that you’ve turned so soft.”

  “I’m not soft. I’m sensible,” Tate replies angrily. “This feud has gotten out of control and since neither of us want to give up our land and businesses and move away, we need to learn to work together. So grow up, Jace. I’m not done with this. We’re going to make it right.”

  “Whatever. Good luck with that.” The line goes dead as Jace hangs up on his brother.

  Tate swears under his breath and tosses his phone on his bed and then he looks up at me. “I’m sorry. My brother is a bigger dick than I realized.”

  “To be fair, Daisy might have done the same thing,” I reply softly.

  “I’ll make this right somehow,” Tate promises.

&n
bsp; Then we stare at each other awkwardly for what feels like an eternity but is probably a minute. I take a deep breath, but it feels like my lungs are pinched. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

  “Sorry I found out you’re trying to steal my farm?”

  “I’m not trying to steal it. I just… I have plans for it if you guys can’t keep it,” I reply, and I feel like shit when he looks at me because he looks so hurt. “I feel bad about it now. I have for a while. I don’t want you to lose your farm now. But I still need more land to advance my plans for our business.”

  Tate keeps staring at me, but the hurt in his green eyes seems to be dissipating at least a little bit. “What are your plans?”

  I bite my lip. He frowns. “Okay. You should go. We had team meetings today and I managed to squeeze in a workout too and then I cooked that huge meal down there to keep my mind off you, so I’m going to go eat it now.”

  He walks across the room and out the door and I follow because I don’t know what else to do. When we reach the ground floor I realize if I walk out that door, this thing with us is done. I grab his hand as he’s about to walk into the kitchen, where I can hear a bunch of guys talking and dishes clanging as they eat. He turns to face me.

  “After you eat, can I take you somewhere?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to show you what my plans are,” I say and I feel scared and nervous, like I might be making the biggest mistake of my life. But what if I’m not? What if this is exactly what we all need? A leap of faith. An olive branch.

  His eyes scrutinize my face and then he smiles cautiously and takes my hand and pulls me into the kitchen. “Hey boys, try and chew with your mouths closed. We have a female guest joining us.”

  Four guys stare up at me in various stages of devouring the spaghetti dinner in front of them. They all look baffled that I’m there—and about to eat with them—but they all smile, wave, grunt or give me other forms of a welcome. Tate offers me the empty chair and grabs another one from the hall.

  The meal is delicious, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just because I’m starving. His sauce is meaty and garlicky and the pasta is perfectly al dente. I devour every spec that Tate had heaped onto my plate, which amuses the guys. Lex watches me in awe as I reach for a second piece of garlic bread. The twins both smile.

  “Gotta love a girl with an appetite,” Patrick says with a smirk.

  “I’m a farm girl,” I say with a guilty smile. “We know how to eat.”

  “So…like you two don’t hate each other anymore?” Lex asks timidly.

  I feel Tate’s hand land on my knee under the table and he squeezes. “We’re working on a peace treaty.”

  I nod. “It’s a work in progress.”

  No one brings it up again, and I happily munch on another piece of garlic bread while they talk about the upcoming hockey season. When dinner is finished and there isn’t a scrap of food left on the table, Tate stands up. “Enjoy doing the dishes, Lex. I’ll see you guys later.”

  His teammates all wave or call out goodbyes. And when we get outside and start down the porch, I dig my keys out of my pocket. “It’s best if I drive.”

  “Okay,” Tate says easily and climbs in my passenger side.

  Ten minutes later I park at the bottom of my family’s driveway. It’s after nine now—on a Sunday—so I’m confident Ben and Bobby have gone home and one of them probably dropped Daisy off at our apartment too. There’s a light on in the upstairs left window, which means Dad and Mom have retired to their room. Mom is probably reading or knitting and Dad is watching some sports channel, probably trying to catch highlights of the Patriots game. Clyde lives in the self-contained apartment at the back end of the house that my dad and uncles built for him the year I was born. I don’t know if he’s awake so we’re going to have to be stealthy, which is why I’m parking at the end of the drive, so no one sees my car.

  I turn to Tate. “We’re going to have to hop the fence and walk up, through the field.”

  Tate smirks. “Can’t get caught with the enemy.”

  “Exactly.” I nod and get out of the car. Tate follows.

  I lead him to the fence and hop over. He follows and we make our way through the dark field in silence. “Where are your little monsters?”

  I smile. “The goats sleep in the barn.”

  As we come up the back side of the field, we pass the series of oblong, white bee hives and Tate starts to walk faster and makes a wide birth around them. I smirk. “They won’t bug you.”

  “I’ve been stung more times than I can count in my life, so I don’t believe you,” Tate replies. It’s dark out but even with just the quarter moon as our light, I can see his eyes just bugged out of his pretty little head and I laugh.

  “I had no idea a big bad hockey player was so terrified of a little bee.”

  “They sting!” Tate hisses back.

  “I’ve never been stung,” I say and shrug. “But I also wear gloves and the whole gear. Daisy doesn’t though.”

  “Your sister is officially a badass,” Tate replies. “And quite possibly has a death wish.”

  I laugh again but make sure to stifle it as the house is now within throwing distance. And as we round the corner of it, the container house comes into view. Tate’s walk slows and he squints, as if it will help him figure out what he’s looking at. “If that also houses bees, I’m running back to the car screaming, so say goodbye to your stealthy mission here.”

  “Nope. Trust me,” I say and reach for his hand in the dark. He links his fingers through mine without hesitation and lets me lead him toward the structure despite his apprehension.

  We get to the sliding doors Bobby and Ben installed at the one end of the container, and I pray they didn’t lock it. I pull on the slider, and thankfully, it opens. I let go of Tate’s hand to take my phone out of my pocket as I step inside and turn on the flashlight app. It does a decent job of illuminating the small space. Tate’s quiet, but he also turns on his flashlight and walks around the place slowly. “You guys built a house. Out of a shipping container?”

  “It’s a micro-cabin,” I explain. “Basically a self-contained hotel room. There’s a bathroom back there.”

  Tate follows my finger to go check out the bathroom behind the half wall. The composting toilet has been installed and the sink has too. Ben has tiled two of the four walls so far. It looks really good. “It’s also eco-friendly. There’s actually electricity from solar panels but I don’t want to turn on the lights in case someone sees. It’s a prototype to see how easy it would be to create. We want to build six or seven of them and open a resort. One with an existing house we could turn into a bed and breakfast with a restaurant on the first floor that serves only farm-to-table dishes. And a barn that we can turn into an events hall where weddings and conferences and yoga retreats can happen. And a lake to pepper eight or ten of these units around.”

  He’s not stupid and he understands what I’m saying immediately. “My property. That’s where you were hoping to put these.”

  “Yeah.”

  I don’t know what he’s thinking as he wanders around the place for another couple of minutes. He doesn’t storm off, so I take that as a good sign. I follow behind him like an eager puppy as he paces the space. Finally he turns and looks at me. “It’s a brilliant idea.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I can see why our farmland would be perfect,” he replies. “So why are you telling me about this?”

  “Because I’m an idiot,” I reply and sigh. “I like you and I want you to like me too.”

  He steps right up to me, his hands cupping both sides of my face before he gently leans his forehead down to mine. “I do like you. More than I ever thought possible.”

  My arms move upward and I press my palms against his back just below his shoulders. He feels warm despite the fact it’s a cold fall night and air is blowing into the room from the open slider. He kisses me. It’s slow and sweet, until it isn’t.
Eventually his tongue finds mine and we’re making out like horny teenagers.

  “You forgive me?” I ask as his mouth moves to my neck and his hands slide down from my face, cupping my breasts through my sweater.

  “I understand you,” he replies. “I would have thought of my farm for this too if I were you.”

  “It’s freezing in here,” I walk over to the door. “Let’s go back to the car.”

  “Or just let me warm you up,” Tate says and opens the zip up Moo U hoodie he threw on before we left the house.

  I close the sliding door so the air stops bustling in, and I walk up and slide my arms around his broad, warm torso as he wraps the hoodie and his arms around me.

  “These are amazing and a really great idea,” Tate says after a second of just holding each other in silence.

  “It would be perfect for a resort farm,” I say and find myself holding my breath.

  “My family doesn’t have the talents to make it work,” Tate says and I feel his lips on the top of my head. “I mean, Jace could probably learn to build the units, but we don’t have the culinary skills to run the catering-slash-food side of things. And Raquel and Louise would love to play hosts but wouldn’t lift a finger to actually change over rooms and all that actual work that would be involved. My grandparents just want to retire. The only reason they haven’t is they don’t have the money.”

  “If only our families didn’t hate each other’s guts,” I say, tipping my head back to look at him. A sliver of moonlight is cutting through one of the narrow oblong windows my uncle cut on the side of the container. It’s making him look angelic. “If we partnered, we could do this. George and my dad could tend the goats and apples, My mom could keep up with the bees and goats, keeping the actual farm aspects running and handling the farmer’s markets. Raquel and Louise could run the front of the bed and breakfast, you and I could put our marketing degrees together and handle the marketing and advertising, Daisy, my mom and your grandma could handle the catering, and Jace and my uncles could do the handyman upkeep.”

  His lips land on mine in a fleeting chaste kiss. “That would be perfect, but as we both know, there is no such thing as perfect. And our families’ feud is irreparable.”