Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 5

5

ADALINE

My keys jingle as I unlock the door to my storefront for Orange Blossom Botanicals. The glass door swings open with ease. I love this time of day. The morning sunlight pours through my shop’s large windows, casting a golden glow over every surface. The walls are decorated with rustic wooden shelves displaying various jars and bottles of my custom line of body and health products.

As I step inside, the scent of citrus that fills the air feels like home and is so inviting. I get that familiar buzz of anticipation as I look around. I hope we make a lot of sales today. I could definitely use it after spending all that money in Las Vegas. I won some of it back playing slots, but the drinks alone spiked my credit card bill.

My best friend, Mallory, is already hard at work, restocking shelves with our most popular product. “Morning, sunshine. I’ve got the new orange blossom toners ready to go. They turned out beautifully.”

I return her smile gratefully, pleased with her dedication to our craft. “Oh good. Let’s make sure they’re front and center. Today’s going to be another busy one. There’s already a line outside.”

Ever since my orange blossom water toner went viral, we’ve sold out through our online shop multiple times and people in the Denver metro area are now coming into the store to get their hands on one. Thank God I have Mallory working with me. Well, she and my grandmother, Teta Lena, and occasionally my twin brother Mark.

“How was Vegas? How was Kyla?” Mallory asks as she arranges the display on a gorgeous reclaimed wood center table that gives off an earthy feel that complements our botanical theme perfectly.

“Kyla was Kyla. And Vegas was…interesting,” I answer as I tie an apron around my waist.

“I’m sure Kyla was a pleasure.” Mallory knows all about my cousin’s ways, not only from my stories, but from real life, too. We all go way back, that’s how Lebanese families are that attend our church. “Why was Vegas interesting?” She asks, throwing air quotes around it.

I want to tell her. I want to tell her so badly. Oh, why the hell not? Why keep the craziest thing I’ve ever done a secret? Especially from Mallory. “Well, I got married.”

Mallory freezes with an orange blossom toner still in hand. “What?”

“You heard me,” I tell her with a sly smile.

She rises to her feet from her crouched position with her mouth agape. “Adaline Khoury. Please explain!”

A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s almost time to open for the day. “I will, but later. It’s time to open.”

“You are such a bitch for this,” Mallory says, and finishes the display.

I adjust my apron and open the door. There are about six people waiting outside. I greet them with a smile. “Come on in. ”

A young woman with curious eyes walks up to me.

“Hi, welcome to Orange Blossom Botanicals,” I say with a warm smile. “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for today?”

The woman’s gaze scans over the shelves, taking in the vibrant labels and enticing scents. “I’ve heard amazing things about your rosewater toner. Do you have any in stock?”

I nod eagerly, reaching for a freshly bottled batch. “Absolutely! Besides our orange blossom, our rosewater toner is one of our best-sellers. It’s perfect for refreshing and hydrating the skin, especially in this dry Colorado air.”

As I explain the benefits of the toner, I can see the woman’s interest growing. She reaches out to take a bottle, her fingers tracing the delicate orange blossom design on the label. “I’ll take one, please. And maybe a za’atar body scrub. My friend raves about it.”

“Sure, I think we are running low on that. Let me check in the back for you.”

“Thank you, your shop is absolutely lovely.”

My heart swells with pride. “Thank you. That means a lot. Let me see if I can find that body scrub for you.”

When I head into the back, I’m delighted to see that the workshop where we create our products is completely clean and organized. I was a little worried that while I was in Vegas that it might have gone into disarray with Mallory and Mark making products. But clearly my Teta had been by to help and clean up. She’d never let it get too messy. I learned nearly everything about using botanicals in beauty and home products from her. Her mother, my great-grandmother who emigrated from Rabieh, Lebanon, had taught her.

I found a case of za’atar body scrubs in the back, saved for online orders, and grabbed a handful to bring out to the front of the store.

The woman’s eyes light up when she sees the body scrubs, and she eagerly adds one to her purchase. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about your products. I can’t wait to try them out,” she says with a smile and gets out her credit card. As I ring her up, I feel such a surge of satisfaction knowing that our hard work is appreciated by our customers.

“Thank you so much for stopping by. I hope you love everything,” I say genuinely as I hand her the bag of goodies.

The woman nods graciously and heads toward the door with her purchase clutched in her hand. As she leaves, more customers trickle in. I’m still shocked at what social media buzz has done for my brand.

Mallory joins me at the counter, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, spill it. How did you end up getting married in Vegas?”

A playful smile creeps onto my face as I dangle the carrot of information in front of her. “How about this? Once we close up shop, let’s go to the corner bar. I’ll treat you to drinks for covering for me while I was off getting hitched, and I’ll explain everything.”

Mallory didn’t have much of a chance to argue with me. We stayed busy throughout the day with a steady stream of customers and filling online orders.

At 7:00 we closed up shop and walked down the block to the corner bar. My teta used to get upset about Mallory and I going there after dark, worried that two young women shouldn’t be in strange bars with strange men, but we brought her along one night and she got to meet the owner and bartender, Stanley, a lively octogenarian with a whole gaggle of sons and grandsons that help him run the bar. He promised her he always kept a good eye on us and that made her feel better.

The bar is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and spilled beer. Light classic rock plays in the background and a TV above the bar is turned on to some commercials that are playing a little too loud for my favor, but the other usuals sitting at the bar are watching. Stanley greets us with a warm smile as we settle onto bar stools. “The usual, ladies?” he asks, already reaching for a bottle of white wine.

I nod. “Yes, but only one glass, Stanley. I need to get back to my workshop tonight and make some products.”

Mallory opts for her classic gin and tonic. As Stanley pours our drinks and places them in front of us. I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts to recount the whirlwind events of Vegas.

“So spill it,” Mallory prompts me eagerly, sipping her drink.

I laugh and stall by taking a dramatically slow sip of my wine. How do I even begin to explain to my best friend about marrying a complete stranger in Las Vegas? But this is Mallory. She has seen my good, my bad, and my totally embarrassing. Surely getting married in Vegas isn’t as bad as the time I threw up all over her car’s dashboard after a house party in high school. Or that one time in middle school, when I actually forced her to read my diary, because I thought she would enjoy reading pages and pages about how I was one day going to marry the Aussie in my favorite boy band. She was going through her goth period and the look she gave me was one I’ll never forget. Her black painted lips pursed so hard in disgust. It’s a miracle we stayed friends.

“We were in this phony Irish pub taking shots, per usual,” I began, the memories flooding back vividly. “The place was packed and Kyla and her friends kept sending me up to get drinks.”

“Very typical,” Mallory says, and I have so much love for her. She gets it.

“So I’m at the bar buying another round of drinks and this big brute of a man is blocking my access to the bar. Then he elbows me by accident, gives me a dirty look and I kind of lose my shit.”

“Please tell me this isn’t the man you married,” Mallory says with a groan.

“It is, but?—”

“Oh, Ada,” she says and shakes her head.

“But then he helped me and we had this moment. He moved me in front of him and braced his arms on the bar, around me, to give me space and bought our drinks. It’s hard to describe, but basically he was this gruff gentleman.”

“And what, you decided to marry him?”

“Not at that exact moment. I went back to the girls and Kyla started going off about how I should just settle down with George so we could have babies at the same time.”

Mallory nearly spits out her drink. “You would never, right?”

“Never. And at that point, marriage was like the furthest thing from my mind. After days with Kyla and her bridal party going hardcore on bachelorette stuff, I was basically at my wit’s end. Like, I can never be a Kyla, you know that. Me with an engagement and a wedding and all that bullshit is definitely something I don’t ever want to do. Especially since I have never even met anyone who could make marriage remotely worth it. Every guy has been a total toad, you know that.”

“But…somehow you got married?” Mallory asks confused, rightly so because I’m not making a whole lot of sense.

“Well, I kept making eyes with Nik—that’s his name.”

“Oh, we’ve got a name, finally,” Mallory teases.

“And he kept making eyes with me. Somehow, we ended up dancing together and then making out on the dance floor. It was electric. I’m not going to lie. I haven’t felt sparks like that while kissing somebody, maybe ever.”

“Holy shit,” Mallory says, getting much more serious now that I’m getting into the details that really matter .

“Out of nowhere, after this kind of life-changing kiss, he breaks away from me and asks the question.”

“What question?”

“Do you want to get married?” I say, quoting my now husband.

“And you said yes?”

“Obviously, yes, hence the story I’m telling you right now.”

“What on earth were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I was just going with the flow. Like it wasn’t logical, I get that. My family drives me nuts about this stuff on the regular. So why not? I can do whatever the fuck I want to do, you know?”

“Your teta is going to kill you. And your dad is too.”

“No, it will be fine. They won’t find out. We’re going to get an annulment. We both did it for the wrong reasons, obviously.”

“Better question. Why the hell did he do it?” she asks.

“Oh, get this, he said revenge.”

Mallory’s eyebrows lift. “Revenge? What on earth could that be about?”

“He mentioned an ex, but I really don’t know. I wish I did. I’m super curious about that part.”

Mallory takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “Tell me you two at least hooked up after.”

“Nope,” I answer. And before she can go off about that, I keep going. “And trust me when I say that’s probably the most disappointing part because he’s so hot. But the wedding and the reality of what we’d done sobered us up. Then we ate pizza and I might have cried a little. He was mostly kind and considerate about it all, and damn attractive. Like when I tell you he is hot, holy hell.”

“Do you have a photo?” she asks and just when I consider her question and consider ways to find a photo of him online, the TV grabs my attention when I hear his name .

“Nikolas Huxley came out strong in the first period,” a sports announcer starts. “With two assists and some elite defense, blocking multiple shots before it could even get to Hawkins’ net.”

They’re showing Nik chatting with the goalie as his teammates line up at the center. He looks rugged and raw and so fucking hot in his uniform, I can barely breathe. I’ve never been a sports person. Never cared for it. But knowing that I’ve had that man kiss me. Knowing that man is my husband is doing something to me. Something intense and strange.

“That’s him,” I tell Mallory with a quick breath and point up at the screen. “Nik Huxley.”

“What? The hockey player?” she asks.

I nod and then place a hand on her arm when the co-announcer goes on. “You’re right, Dave, he’s really reminding us about why he’s one of the best defensemen to ever play the sport and a two-time Norton trophy winner. The question on everyone’s mind is, will this be his last season?”

“After all of his injuries, my guess is that he and the Storm will come to some sort of agreement. And there’s nothing to be ashamed of about that.”

“You married that guy? In Las Vegas? Holy fuck, Adaline.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Yes, he told me he was a hockey player, but honestly, I hadn’t thought too much about that angle. Now that I’m seeing it in real life, I think I may seriously have the hots for my husband.