Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3), стр. 20
With a break in his voice, he took her hand in both of his. “I did finish my homework, Grandma, but I can wait on the cookies for now.”
Hours later, Gage sat at his mom’s kitchen table, hands wrapped around a cold coffee cup, an unseeing stare focused outside the bay window on the glossy green leaves of a camellia bush.
His mother stood at the sink agitatedly clattering dishes, rambling through a convoluted apology that was simply a cover-up for hurt feelings.
“Honey, if only I’d known you were going there first, I would’ve met you. Or you could’ve come here and I’d have taken you there myself. You shouldn’t see your grandmother alone in her … current state. If only you’d told me your plans ahead of time.”
“Sorry, Mom,” he said absently. The wind ruffled the camellia plant, separating a few bright pink petals from its abundant blossoms. “I ended up getting free before I’d planned,” he white-lied, “and thought it would be easier to head there first on my way here.”
“Well, next time, Gage—”
“What’s the big deal, Mom? I can handle it.”
She seemed to grow more flustered. “Yes, but sometimes your grandmother … I know you were only trying to save me trouble—you’ve always been thoughtful like that, unlike your father—but really, you could have called and, like I said, I’d have met you there and softened the blow for you.”
Point taken, Mom. For the fifth time.
So much for Gage’s attempt at covert operations. Between the shock of his grandmother’s condition—which he was still trying to compartmentalize—and his mother’s droning, guilt-tripping reproach, he swore off future secret maneuvers to visit Grandma on his own. For now.
Mom had been complaining about Grandma going downhill fast, getting loopier by the day, but his mom thrived on drama. While he admired her and loved his mother with all his heart, he was convinced that if life grew too serene, Nola Delaney Nelson would simply invent a crisis. So he’d mistakenly assumed her reports about Grandma had been exaggerated. Obviously, he’d been wrong, but he wasn’t about to confess that tidbit to his mother and give her more reason to shoot him scowls.
He pushed out a breath. “It’s okay, Mom. She finally recognized me, and it turned into a good visit,” he repeated for the hundredth time. His knee bounced with irritation. Time to deflect. “So who’s Oscar?”
A dramatic sigh accompanied a roll of her eyes. “He’s a resident on the independent living side. His wife was in memory care, and he used to visit her daily. She died several months ago. Now he hangs around your grandma, treating her like a queen.”
“Which she deserves,” he interjected.
“Gage, honestly, sometimes you are so naive.” She pointed a potholder at him. “This is why you have to be so careful about picking the right girl—one who won’t try to take advantage of you.”
This familiar tack in the conversation always frustrated him. He was a grown man, for God’s sake, capable of picking the right girl—assuming he was looking to pick one in the first place. “What does Grandma’s, uh”—What do you call an eighty-something who hangs out with your grandmother?—“boyfriend have to do with my love life?”
Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “So you do have a love life? When did this happen?”
“I don’t have a love life, and even if I did, it would be none of your business.” He gave her a half-smile to soften the truth of the statement.
She turned back to her dishes. “Well, I say he treats her too much like a queen. And he’s only been widowed a short time! Where’s the decency in that? He’s after something.”
Gage scoffed. “Like what? She has no money.” He paid for everything—for his grandma and his mom. Had ever since he’d started drawing bigger paychecks. “Maybe the guy’s just being nice.”
Mom turned away to check a baking casserole. “Men can charm women into doing whatever they want,” she said over her shoulder. “Just like your father.”
Oh boy, here we go.
While she ran through her usual spiel about the evils of men—not him, he was perfect, she was always quick to add—he slid his phone from his pocket for a quick glimpse at his Twitter account. Lily had been working magic, and his followers were up by nearly six hundred—not that he really cared about the numbers. No, the real fun was in Lily’s texts, and his spirits got a boost when he spied a new one.
Lily: Did you see the latest count, Professor? The mooney-eyed picture of you as a bantam getting Gretzky’s autograph racked up another 80 peeps! We’re on a roll. With butter.
He stifled a laugh. His mother was still talking, and God knew she’d take his laughter the wrong way.
Sweet! he fired back. Then he added, Not sure where you’re mining the old photos, but they’re perfect. Keep up the good work.
Yep, despite his misgivings, he was impressed. The old pictures, combined with Lily’s clever messages, were pure wizardry in Twitter World, and the week was only half gone.
Lily: Looks like someone might be hiring someone soon.
Another laugh tickled his chest. Though he couldn’t put his finger on why, he was actually relieved she was hitting it out of the park on their so-called competition, even if he still wasn’t convinced he needed the social media presence she was drumming up for him.
Gage: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Lily: Spoken like a true professor. All I ask is that you please wait until I’ve handed in my completed assignment before you grade my paper.
A dirty picture popped into Gage’s head and shot straight to his groin. He refrained from sending a reply about bending her over his desk and