O Goalie Night (The Ottawa Otters #1)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

BETH

W ell. This is not what I expected to see as I’m leaving the house this morning.

The snow, sure. It’s everywhere and it is glorious. There’s nothing like the first heavy snowfall of the year. It covers everything like a blanket of white making everything sparkle in the sun. Apparently, we got almost twenty centimetres overnight, which is a lot for mid-November.

What I wasn’t expecting was four men and some sort of oversized truck to be in Foster’s driveway.

“Good morning, Ms. Michaels,” one of the toque-clad men greets me while the others smile and wave. His grey beard is likely keeping his face warm on this chilly day.

I wave back, wondering what the hell is going on. “Good morning...”

“I’m Tucker. You’re all set,” the man says as he gives Foster’s black Lexus an almost reverent pat with his gloved hand. “We’ve changed the tires and topped up your windshield wiper fluid. The roads aren’t bad, actually. The snowplows have been out all night. But if you’d rather not drive, I’d be more than happy to take you to work and pick you up at the end of the day.”

I’m so distracted by the strangers in the driveway that I don’t notice the car which has been cleaned off and appears to be sporting four, shiny new tires.

Foster.

I’m not worried about the car, Beth.

My heartbeat quickens at the thought of him being so concerned for my personal safety that he sent a crew of men in the early morning to winterise his car. But that’s just Foster, right? The man is a natural born protector who’s done nothing but look out for me since I arrived. I’d like to spend more time unpacking this, but I have a job to get to.

I thank the men and assure them I’ll be fine to get to work on my own. Once I’m in the car, I send Foster a message.

Beth: Thank you. You really didn’t need to do that.

His reply comes so quickly that, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was waiting on my text.

Foster: Yes I did. Drive safely. Text when you get to work.

Foster: Please.

Grinning, I put my phone in my bag and start the car. The windshield is so clean it’s as if it wasn’t buried in snow an hour before.

Tucker was right; the roads have been cleaned up nicely, especially considering how much snow came down. Still, I take my time, wary of any black ice that might be hiding.

The commute seems so different this morning, like the snow has softened the edges of everything. I catch glimpses of people shovelling their driveways, bundled up in puffy coats and bright scarves, their breath visible in the cold air. I sing along to the radio all the way to work.

I really love how close Foster’s place is to the school. The place I’ll be renting in the new year is twice as far. But at least it exists, unlike the last place I rented.

Once I’ve parked in the staff parking lot, I retrieve my phone from my purse and text Foster again.

Beth: Beth Michaels has been marked SAFE at Stittsville Elementary.

Foster: Thanks

If they weren’t attached to my face, I’m certain my eyebrows would have hit the ceiling of the luxury SUV.

Foster: Shit. My finger slipped.

I break into hysterics thinking of the horror on Foster’s face at sending me that little pink heart and decide to screw with him.

Beth: Of course it did

Not expecting a reply, I grab my bag, but just as I’m about to climb out, the phone buzzes again.

Foster: Thanks for understanding

I squeal and do a little dance in my seat. He’s not flirting with me; not really. But it’s likely the closest I’ll ever get, so I plan to enjoy it while I can.

Beth: Anytime

The kids are bouncing off the walls with excitement today. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s Friday, there is a coating of fresh snow to play in or the fact that every day that passes brings us one step closer to Christmas vacation, but they are like ticking bombs ready to go off at any minute.

I land in the staff room with my lunch bag feeling like I’ve crawled off a battlefield. The children, so sweet and attentive when I started last week, have gotten wilder and more unhinged as the days go by. And there are still five weeks of school before the break!

“Hey there,” Jacob says, his face lighting up when he spots me. “You look like you could use this.” He hands me a cup of coffee which I accept gratefully.

“Is it that obvious?” I croak, bringing the cup to my lips and making a mental note to check my appearance in the bathroom before the afternoon.

“Only a little.” Jacob has been one of the most supportive new colleagues I’ve met since I started. He’s always popping his head into my classroom to check on me and ask if I need anything. “I’ll bring you something stronger at the staff party next week. ”

The Christmas staff party is being held at one of the vice principals’ homes next Friday night and I’m looking forward to getting to know more of my new coworkers better.

“So what type of party is it?” So far I’ve only been given a time and place so I want to make sure I’m prepared and dressed appropriately. “Casual drinks and food? Or more formal? Will there be games? Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with that but if I’m going to be forced to play charades, I need a bit of warning.”

“The first kind, thank God,” Tamara answers as she joins us. “It’s very low key. If we play any games, they’re drinking games.”

“Perfect,” I sigh with relief unwrapping my sandwich and starting to eat my lunch. I used a fancy balsamic and black pepper mustard that I found in Foster’s fridge on my Montreal smoked meat on rye sandwich and it is just delightful.

“I hope there isn’t a hockey game on,” she groans, stabbing her salad with a fork. “Last year, all the men were in the living room watching tv and the women were all in the kitchen getting drunk.” She pauses, contemplatively. “Come to think of it, it was lovely. Go sports team.”

“The Otters don’t play next Friday. They’re in Boston next Saturday,” Jacob pipes up as he returns to the table with his own cup of coffee.

I shake my head, swallowing the food in my mouth. “No, they’re in Boston next Thursday and next Saturday is a home game.”

Is it weird that I’ve memorised the team’s schedule for the next couple of weeks? Given that I’m living with one of the players, it seems perfectly logical to me .

Tamara quirks an eyebrow at me while Jacob pulls out his phone looking confused.

“Huh. You’re right. I could have sworn they were in Boston next Saturday,” he says looking at me with renewed interest. “You follow hockey?”

Here’s the thing. Most people back home know who I am. People have been watching my brother with interest since he was six years old and I can’t remember a time when I’ve been anything other than Ben Michael’s sister to the general population. And while I don’t plan to deny the fact that my brother is an NHL defenseman, I also wasn’t going to volunteer the information. Not yet, at least.

I take another bite of my sandwich, chewing thoroughly and swallowing before replying, “I do.”

“That’s awesome,” Jacob appears legitimately excited to learn this. “We should go to a game sometime. I can get us good seats.” He adds with fake modesty, “I know a guy.”

I hide a smile. Me too.

“Sure,” I say with a shrug. I wonder how he would react if he knew who my brother is.

Or who my roommate is. I feel the colour rise in my cheeks again at the thought of Foster’s texts. While he’s been travelling for most of the two weeks I’ve been staying with him, I have really enjoyed getting to know him better. I think we’re becoming good friends.

Which means I really need to bury this juvenile crush I have on him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on second duty, Jacob?” Tamara gives him a pointed look.

“Oh shit.” Jacob stands and starts to leave before stopping and backtracking. “Let me know if you need a drive to the party next week, Beth?”

“I’m already taking her,” Tamara says in a singsong voice.

“Right.” He’s clearly disappointed as he’s pulling on his coat. “I’ll see you ladies later.”

The moment he’s gone and we’re alone, she turns to me. “He wants to woo you.” There’s no teasing in her tone; she says it like she’s stating a fact.

“No he doesn’t.” Wait. Does he?

“Oh yes he fucking does. He’s already started wooing.”

“I’m not being wooed. I would know if wooing was taking place.”

“Beth, that boy was pitching woo all over you. The entire room is covered in it. It absolutely reeks of woo in here.”

“I don’t think that’s how wooing works.”

“Maybe not. No one has wooed me in quite some time. But I recognize the act when I see it. The question is, do you want to be wooed?”

I give myself a moment to consider her question. Jacob seems like a really nice guy. He’s nice-looking and employed and heaven knows I could do worse. But I don’t get that flutter of excitement when I’m around him. When he smiles at me, I think “that’s a nice smile” and that’s as far as it goes.

When Foster smiles at me, I feel like my vital organs are all about to simultaneously malfunction, but, like, in a positive way.

“No,” I answer, firmly. “I’m not looking to be wooed.” At least not by Jacob. Part of me wishes I felt that way for him. It would certainly be easier than having an unrequited crush on my brother’s best friend.

“I figured as much,” Tamara nods solemnly. “You’ll have to make that clear to him. He's a good guy, but he’s the type who’ll follow you around like a lost puppy unless you tell him to go home.”

“I won’t lead him on.”

“Good,” she stands and stretches, like she’s limbering up for a fight. “Alright, Ms. Michaels. There are two hours left in the school day. If we stick together, we just might make it out of here alive.”

Chuckling, I pack up my lunch bag, ready to return to class. “So the kids aren’t just acting like this because I’m new?”

“Nope. The first snowfall makes them feral. Every damn year.” I follow her into the bustling hallway, almost getting run over by a mob of children. “No running, Jeremiah!” Tamara says with a shake of her head. “By the time Skate Day arrives, they’re more beast than children.”

My stomach sinks as I part ways with her and enter my very active, noisy classroom. Skate Day is one problem I don't have a solution for yet.