Stick Play (Boston Bucks #4)

7. Gina

7

Gina

I spent the better part of the morning letting Callie live in my head rent free which is insanely ridiculous. Sure, I took what she said personally. How could I not? She was basically saying any woman with a child should be doing old lady mother things like playing bingo with her mother and grandmother. There is nothing wrong with bingo, and yes, I’ve been known to play shuffleboard and cards a time or two.

God, am I an old lady who does old lady things?

I don’t know, but I do know Callie is the type of girl I’d seen Ash hanging out with in the past. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him out much lately and I’m not sure why he bailed on the Caribbean. Hating the heat seems like a poor excuse, if you ask me. But no one is asking. What I’m asking myself, however, is what’s going on with Ash. Why isn’t he out with the bunnies, lately? Maybe it’s because it’s regular season and he’s trying to concentrate.

But will he take Margot up on her suggestion and show Callie around town? My stomach cramps. When she asked if we were a couple, he quickly shut that down. Then again, so did I when Margot asked. When it comes right down to it, we do not have claims on each other, and he can do whatever he wants. I have no right to feel jealous.

Then why do you?

Ugh.

I shut that down and focus on what’s going on here and that once this weekend is over, we’re over. I guess a part of me thinks that if we’re going to be sleeping together until everyone gets back from the Caribbean, then maybe I’d like for us to be exclusive. Is that too much to ask? Jeez, I just don’t know the rules of dating. Not that we’re dating. We’re hooking up. And believe you and me, I’m out of my comfort zone and have no idea how any of that works anymore.

A fork clangs on the floor, and pulls my thoughts back to the present. I glance around to take in the last couple of customers, lingering over coffee. With the lunch crowd dying down, I put Callie out of my brain and begin to clear tables. As I do, I check my phone for the hundredth time. Ash might be afraid of kids, and might not think he’s good with them—there really is no one-fits-all manual, and I too had to learn through trial and error—but he totally stepped up this morning, and did a great job. Of course, they’re all great kids, happy and easy to be around. My heart tightens a little in my chest at the way he ushered them all into the kitchen so I could get some extra sleep.

The man really isn’t what I thought he was, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. But he was right about me needing the sleep. After the delicious, and somewhat risky, sex on the kitchen table, I really wanted the extra time in bed. I just wish he’d been in it with me. If we’re going to do that again, we’re going to have to be careful. We can’t, under any circumstances, get caught kissing. With Camryn planting the idea of marriage and kissing in Zoe’s head, I don’t want her getting the wrong idea.

The bell over the door jingles and I glance up, half expecting it to be Ash and the kids. They’ve been gone for hours now, and he did text me earlier, letting me know he wanted to stop at his father’s place to check on him. I might never meet the man who raised the Mountain, but the three kids are going to have the pleasure. My stomach takes that moment to tighten. I just don’t want Zoe getting attached to Ash. But I guess if he’s only watching her for a weekend, that’s not likely to happen.

Heck, I don’t want to get attached, either. But sex before bed, and pancakes and coffee upon awakening—while he tended to the kids. Yeah, I could get used to that.

My gaze goes to the gentleman searching for a seat. “Hello there,” I greet as I scoop up a menu. “Table for one?”

He nods and blue eyes that seem a bit familiar light up as they land on me. “Just one.”

“How about right here?” I guide him to the small table with a view of the outside, even though it’s a miserable cold day. This way he can people watch as he eats, and maybe that won’t feel so lonely for him. I’m not saying that he’s lonely. I don’t know the man. Maybe he likes being alone. Nevertheless, I care about my customers, and this way he has a choice between solitude and people watching.

He turns his coffee cup over and offers me a big smile. “Are you the owner of this lovely place now?”

“I am, for a couple of years now. I inherited it from my uncle. Did you know him?” I turn and look at the quaint café from his point of view. My life has changed so much in the last couple of years, and for the first time in a long time, I’m content. Happy? Well, I’m happy with my business and daughter, and I have great friends. That’s enough for now. I don’t know if it will be enough later on, and even if it’s not, that’s okay. I am keeping life status-quo.

“Heard it changed hands, but I’ve never been here before.” He takes his coat and hat off and sets them on the other chair. “Only been living in Boston for a couple years now, though.”

“Well…” I spread my arms. “Welcome to the Nook. I hope you become a regular.” I fix his placemat. “What made you try it today?”

“Heard good things.”

“Excellent. You go ahead and look over the menu.” I hand him one. “And I’ll be right back with the coffee.”

I walk to the coffee pot behind the counter, just as the gentleman’s cell phone rings and I glance back to see him fish it from his coat pocket. I reach for the carafe, and try not to eavesdrop on his conversation as I pour. He laughs and shakes his head as he catches my eye.

“I just thought I’d go out for lunch today.” He covers the phone. “It’s my son. He worries about me.” That warms my heart. Ash takes care of his dad, too. Or rather, from the sounds of things, he’d like to, but his father is a proud man, or rather a stubborn bastard. That thought makes me want to laugh. For some reason, I find the thoughts of anyone giving the Mountain a hard time rather amusing.

You gave him a hard time, Gina.

I gulp at that, and work to maintain professionalism as my customer covers the phone. “My son. Needs to know where I am every damn minute of every damn day.” I laugh, thinking about Ash’s father and how he gives him a hard time.

“I think that’s nice,” I tell him. “It’s nice to have someone in the family worry about you.”

“I guess you have a loved one who worries over you too, huh?” My stomach clenches, because actually I don’t have a loved one who worries over me. “I hope your husband or boyfriend or whoever your loved one is, isn’t as big of a pain as my son.”

I chuckle at that because while he’s being a curmudgeon, his voice and eyes are full of love, and it fills me with an equal measure of joy and sadness. Joy for what this man has, and sadness for what I don’t—family members who worry about me.

My mind goes to my late grandparents and my throat squeezes tight. They left everything to me when they passed, but it wasn’t the material things that mattered. It was the love, kindness and forgiveness they always showed me. I want to be the same kind of parent to Zoe. It’s not always easy doing it by myself and at times I’m just barely doing my best.

You can only do your best, Grandma used to say to me when I struggled in nursing school. They truly were good people, and Grandma always said they didn’t make them like Grandpa anymore. I don’t think she was wrong. It’s funny, because back in their generation, the woman never asked the man out. But Grandma did. She saw what she wanted and went after it. I love that about her. She was so unconventional, and it paid off. They had a lifelong love affair. One day, she took me aside and told me they were leaving me something special in a safety deposit box and what she left me came with special instructions. When I fled California, I left the contents of the box behind.

“Are you kidding me?” the man seated before me says into the phone. I step back and he continues to talk to his son for a second. He laughs into the phone, and asks, “Do you think it’s broken?” My ears perk up. I hope everything is okay. “Okay, son. I’ll see you later.” With that he hangs up. “Kids,” he grouches and throws his hands up. “Do you have children?” he glances at my nametag. “Gina,” he says. “I’m Grant.”

“Well, Grant, I do have a child. One daughter. Six going on sixteen.”

“Oh yes, my son was the same. He was hardheaded at times and stubborn as hell. Although,” he begins sadly. “He had to grow up fast.” I don’t press, and he continues. “Just the two of us.”

Is Zoe growing up too fast? Do I give her too many responsibilities?

“He’s a fine young man, though.” He jabs his thumb into his chest. “Takes after his father, I’m happy to say.”

I laugh at that. “From what I can tell, I’d say that’s a good thing.”

“I like you,” he says with a wink and under his breath murmurs, “I can see why he does too.”

My head rears back. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“What do you recommend?” He turns his attention to the menu, and I let go whatever it was he was talking about. Perhaps he has some memory issues.

I point to the special on the menu. “I have to say the chicken pot pie is pretty delicious.”

“Chicken pot pie…the last time I had chicken pot pie was…” He goes quiet, thoughtful, then a laugh bursts out of his throat. “…I can’t remember the last time. It sounds just about right for today, though.”

“Chicken pot pie it is, then. Perfect to warm you up on this chilly day.”

He takes a big drink of his coffee as I head to the back to put in his ticket. Once his meal is prepared and I see that there’s not much left in the dish, I scoop some up into a take-away container for him. Come late afternoon, we mostly sell pastries and coffee, and I don’t want this to go to waste.

I bring him his steaming bowl of chicken pot pie, and he picks up his fork as he breathes in the delicious scents.

“Lovely.”

I wink at him. “I had a bit extra. Not enough for a meal, but definitely an evening snack.” I set the bag on the table. “It’s on the house.”

“That is awfully kind of you. You’ll have to let me thank you somehow.”

I grin, his words reminding me of how I’m always trying to thank Ash for all he does for me.

“Just knowing you’ll enjoy it is thanks enough.”

I leave him to his meal and check my phone as I head to the kitchen to help Carla clean up. We get only a few stragglers in the next half hour, so I head back out to clear the gentleman’s dishes. Worry gnaws at me, but I didn’t tell Ash he had to check in. I don’t want to call and have him think I don’t trust him to handle all three kids.

A loud noise on the front window, right where Grant is sitting reverberates through the café. I swivel and the second I see Ash there, tissues stuck into both nostrils as he points an accusatory finger at Grant my heart nearly stops.

What the heck is going on?