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Authors: Joanne Rock
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Warren’s carpentry business, he pointed toward the old barn.
“I could use some handyman smarts back there. Shea’s hoping to resurrect all those old sledges for a local boy—”
“Riley Elliot.” Warren nodded, catching sight of the dark-haired boy alongside the barn door with Shea as she stood a sled next to him. “His father asked me about those sleds a few weeks ago but I forgot to mention it to Walt. Should be pretty easy to make some adjustments on them for smaller bodies. I think the main thing is to get the blades sharpened on all of them.” Warren was already heading that way when he turned to call back over his shoulder. “Shea looks just the same, doesn’t she? You’d never guess she was some globe-hopping fashionista from that getup.”
It was true enough, he supposed. She still wore the sweats and his old high school hockey sweater that she’d had on at breakfast, only now she’d layered thermals underneath in deference to the cold. With a high ponytail and a head band, she had that same outdoorsy look as her cousin.
Just a hell of a lot prettier.
Shoving away from the refrigeration unit, he swept out the large open shed that housed it along with a small set of bleachers to keep players or families out of inclement weather. The boards and brackets had all been stored in there for the winter, so the whole place needed some airing out for the season. As he worked, someone produced an outdoor speaker hooked up to holiday tunes and one of the fathers organized the boys in an impromptu football game to keep them occupied and having fun.
But for J.C., the mood didn’t feel quite as festive anymore. Maybe part of it was the reminder that Walt Walker had checked out on the hockey rink two years ago without a word to anyone as to why. What was up with that? Yet, the bigger downer was thinking about Shea’s life in New York these last ten years, her dream job driving enough of a wedge between her and her family that she hardly came home anymore.
After ten years, he would have thought her family would have been more supportive of a career she’d worked her ass off to obtain. Hell, he’d pushed her into it to the expense of his feelings for her—knowing she’d never be happy sacrificing her career for his. Especially since he wanted to play in the NHL.
“I think you’re all done sweeping, J.C.,” an amused voice echoed inside the half-empty shed.
Shea stood at the entrance, her weight on one foot and her crutches while she kept the surgery boot out of the snow. The fresh air agreed with her, putting bright color in her cheeks. As he remembered her words, he looked down at the floor and realized it was spotless by this point. He’d been lost in thought going over the same places.
Before he could speak, a snowball darted across his line of vision to hit her in the shoulder. Hard. Packed snow exploded on impact, sending her back a half foot as she hopped on her crutches to regain her balance.
Tossing the broom handle, he stormed out of the shed to give the perpetrator an ear full.
“Can’t you see she’s on crutches for crying out—” He stopped himself when he saw Warren Walker’s guilty grin.
“Sorry man. Didn’t know my aim was still so deadly.” Shea’s cousin yukked it up at his own humor as he carried a hockey sled toward his truck higher up the hill.
Shea laughed as she brushed over her coat, but J.C. wasn’t amused.
“Why the hell does he apologize to me when it’s you he nearly knocked over?”
Frowning, she readjusted the crutches and leaned against the shed doorway for support. “I’m fine. He still thinks we’re ten.”
“Then it’s a damn good thing you didn’t find him last night if that’s the kind of help he gives to someone with an injury.” He could hear the anger in his voice, knew it was probably too much and out of line, but it was too late to take it back now.
“Do I get to know why you’re acting like someone put coal in your stocking?” she
“I could use some handyman smarts back there. Shea’s hoping to resurrect all those old sledges for a local boy—”
“Riley Elliot.” Warren nodded, catching sight of the dark-haired boy alongside the barn door with Shea as she stood a sled next to him. “His father asked me about those sleds a few weeks ago but I forgot to mention it to Walt. Should be pretty easy to make some adjustments on them for smaller bodies. I think the main thing is to get the blades sharpened on all of them.” Warren was already heading that way when he turned to call back over his shoulder. “Shea looks just the same, doesn’t she? You’d never guess she was some globe-hopping fashionista from that getup.”
It was true enough, he supposed. She still wore the sweats and his old high school hockey sweater that she’d had on at breakfast, only now she’d layered thermals underneath in deference to the cold. With a high ponytail and a head band, she had that same outdoorsy look as her cousin.
Just a hell of a lot prettier.
Shoving away from the refrigeration unit, he swept out the large open shed that housed it along with a small set of bleachers to keep players or families out of inclement weather. The boards and brackets had all been stored in there for the winter, so the whole place needed some airing out for the season. As he worked, someone produced an outdoor speaker hooked up to holiday tunes and one of the fathers organized the boys in an impromptu football game to keep them occupied and having fun.
But for J.C., the mood didn’t feel quite as festive anymore. Maybe part of it was the reminder that Walt Walker had checked out on the hockey rink two years ago without a word to anyone as to why. What was up with that? Yet, the bigger downer was thinking about Shea’s life in New York these last ten years, her dream job driving enough of a wedge between her and her family that she hardly came home anymore.
After ten years, he would have thought her family would have been more supportive of a career she’d worked her ass off to obtain. Hell, he’d pushed her into it to the expense of his feelings for her—knowing she’d never be happy sacrificing her career for his. Especially since he wanted to play in the NHL.
“I think you’re all done sweeping, J.C.,” an amused voice echoed inside the half-empty shed.
Shea stood at the entrance, her weight on one foot and her crutches while she kept the surgery boot out of the snow. The fresh air agreed with her, putting bright color in her cheeks. As he remembered her words, he looked down at the floor and realized it was spotless by this point. He’d been lost in thought going over the same places.
Before he could speak, a snowball darted across his line of vision to hit her in the shoulder. Hard. Packed snow exploded on impact, sending her back a half foot as she hopped on her crutches to regain her balance.
Tossing the broom handle, he stormed out of the shed to give the perpetrator an ear full.
“Can’t you see she’s on crutches for crying out—” He stopped himself when he saw Warren Walker’s guilty grin.
“Sorry man. Didn’t know my aim was still so deadly.” Shea’s cousin yukked it up at his own humor as he carried a hockey sled toward his truck higher up the hill.
Shea laughed as she brushed over her coat, but J.C. wasn’t amused.
“Why the hell does he apologize to me when it’s you he nearly knocked over?”
Frowning, she readjusted the crutches and leaned against the shed doorway for support. “I’m fine. He still thinks we’re ten.”
“Then it’s a damn good thing you didn’t find him last night if that’s the kind of help he gives to someone with an injury.” He could hear the anger in his voice, knew it was probably too much and out of line, but it was too late to take it back now.
“Do I get to know why you’re acting like someone put coal in your stocking?” she
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