Eleven days and six therapy sessions later, Asher was already making progress. Emma hadn’t been lying when she said she was a fantastic therapist. She knew when to push him and when to ease off, and she was letting his body dictate the treatment. At the end of all of this, he would owe her.
She was locking the clinic door as his phone chimed with a text message from Becky.
His heart fell to the floor as he read, Emergency. Get over here, quick!
“What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost,” Emma said, turning to face him.
“Something’s going on at Becky’s house. Can you drive me there?”
“Of course,” she said, as they hurried to her car.
Less than six minutes later, they pulled into his sister’s cul-de-sac right behind Jackson’s truck.
“Anyone know what this is about?” Jackson asked as he jumped out, just as Emma and Ash reached Becky’s front door first.
Behind Jackson, Abby and her daughter, Dani, wore similar worried expressions.
“No. Just got the text and we got here as quick as we could.” Asher tried the door handle, his heart still pounding in his chest.
The sound of loud music blaring reached them before Ben’s minivan appeared in the otherwise quiet neighborhood. His brother had sold his flashy Hummer that summer, but he drove the minivan like it was the coolest vehicle on earth.
Asher knocked on the door and Jackson hit the doorbell twice.
“What the hell is going on?” Ben asked, sprinting across the driveway, as Olivia climbed out of the passenger side.
“Don’t know,” Emma told him.
Becky opened the door, a surprised expression on her face. Wearing a snowman apron covered in flour and Ugg boot-type slippers, she didn’t look injured…just frazzled, like usual at this time of year. “You all came?” she asked in disbelief.
Jackson immediately moved her aside, rushing into the house as the others followed. “What’s wrong? Is Taylor okay? The baby?” He looked around frantically.
Becky held up a hand as Emma and Abby approached, checking her for signs of injury. “I’m fine, everything’s fine.” She laughed. “Can’t believe you’re all here.”
Asher held up his phone. “Emergency. Get over here.” He should have known this was a setup. He felt his heart rate finally returning to normal.
“We were on the highway heading back to Denver, I nearly went off the road taking the exit. What’s going on, Becky?” Ben asked, his own annoyance evident as he, too, realized his sister’s “emergency” probably wasn’t as life-threatening as she’d made it sound.
Becky looked sheepish as she grinned. “Sorry to get all of you worked up. But, actually, it’s probably good that you all did show…Follow me.” She led the way to her kitchen.
Emma glanced at him and her expression was clear—they’d given up going back to her place where they could be naked for this?
“As soon as we find out what this is about, we are out of here,” he whispered as he followed her down the hall. They hadn’t had sex in a few days, and he was craving her.
“I offered to make the Christmas candy for Taylor’s class,” Becky told the group. “I followed the recipe, and Kim Marshall mentioned there was a lot of stirring involved…” She shook her head, motioning them all over to a large pot on the stove where the smell of peppermint escaped on the steam.
They all glanced inside and saw the hardening liquid, the metal spoon she’d been stirring with stuck, standing straight up in the thickening goo.
Unbelievable. They needed to give their sister a list of things that constituted an emergency text.
“My arm is dead and this shit’s not even close to being ready,” Becky said, yanking out the spoon and handing it to Jackson. “You’re up first. Switch off once you lose circulation in your arm,” she said.
Jackson shot her a look, but started stirring. “I can’t believe this.” He struggled to move the spoon in a circle. “This is like tar.”
“Right?” Becky said.
“Well, since it was nothing even close to an emergency, we’re going to go,” Asher said.
“No way, if anyone’s leaving, it’s us.” Ben blocked his exit from the kitchen. “We need to be back in Denver…I have a game to play.”
His hands clenched at his sides as he met his taller brother’s staredown. “Against Arizona, right? Didn’t they beat you guys twice this season already?”
Ben’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he grinned. “Yeah, our record against them is almost as bad as the Devils’. What was that last game score? Five to nothing, Coyotes win?”
Asher took a step closer, and Ben answered with a step closer of his own. His nose was almost touching Ben’s chin.
“You two are not doing this in my kitchen,” Becky said, moving between the two men. Turning to Ben, she motioned toward the door. “You’re free to go.”
“Yeah, let the real men handle this,” Asher called after him.
Ben swung back, unzipping his winter coat. “Jackson, give me the spoon.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma and Olivia exchange looks.
“Ben, we need to go. You’re playing in three hours,” Olivia said.
“I’ll make it,” he said, rolling the sleeve of his sweater as he started to stir.
“Harder than it looks, right?” Jackson said, massaging his forearm.
Ben shook his head no, but within seconds, his pace slowed and beads of sweat were visible on his forehead.
“Give it to me,” Asher said, taking the spoon next and pushing Ben aside. Damn, this shit was like tar. His arm burned from his shoulder to his wrist within minutes, but he refused to show any sign of discomfort. The strong scent of peppermint wafting from the pot made his eyes water. What the hell was this supposed to be, anyway? His sister said it was candy, but how this lump of goo was getting transformed into anything other than a big chunk of white and red rock, he didn’t even want to know. He wiped his forehead against the sleeve of his sweater as he continued to stir. It must be eighty degrees in the kitchen.
“Want me to take over?” Jackson asked.
“Nope, I got this.”
“You’re injured, baby brother,” Ben said.
“I said I got this,” he said through clenched teeth. He could kill Becky. At that moment, he was supposed to be taking Emma’s clothes off at her place, not competing in this macho man competition with his brothers.
The sound of the baby crying down the hall had the women making a beeline out of the kitchen. Becky, Olivia, Abby, Dani, and Emma disappeared, leaving the three brothers alone.
“Why do we fall for this still?” Asher asked, finally handing the spoon over to Jackson. Emma wasn’t watching anymore. He grabbed a gingerbread cookie from a tray on the stove and bit the head off. One thing about his sister’s place—there were always delicious homemade treats to eat. Though his lack of exercise these past two weeks was already taking its toll, he still put the rest of the cookie into his mouth.
“Because Neil’s overseas until next month, and if there was a real emergency we’d never forgive ourselves for not being here,” Jackson said, continuing to stir, his forearms straining. “Shit, this stuff keeps getting thicker.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Move aside,” he said, taking the spoon. But his eyes widened as the thing almost refused to budge. “Jesus.”
Hearing the women approach, Ben gripped the spoon with two hands and stirred as fast as his arms could go.
“How’s it going?” Becky said, poking her head in.
“Nothing to it.” Ben’s words were said through clenched teeth.
Asher grinned. It was actually nice to watch his brother struggle at something for once.
The timer chimed and she grabbed a set of oven mitts.
“Is it done?” Ben asked, slightly out of breath.
“Not even close. It just needs to be removed from the heat. We’ll take it into the living room. Grab a towel and those pot holders,” she told Asher.
“When did we become your elves?” he muttered, but grabbed the stuff she asked for before following everyone into the living room.
Emma was holding his baby niece, Lily, and Abby and Olivia were oohhh-ing and ahhh-ing over the precious one-year-old.
Asher’s mouth went dry. The one thing he and Em almost never talked about was kids. When she’d been pursuing her pro athlete career, it hadn’t even occurred to him that children were something she’d want for herself.
Now, things were different. She was living the small-town life, with a normal career—would she want a family of her own?
Watching her with his niece made his gut twist in a million different uncomfortable ways. Hockey and family didn’t mix well. He’d had to learn from a young age how to separate the two and not allow himself to miss home when he was away. Hockey first…until he no longer could, then family.
That was his goal at least.
One Emma had once shared.
Did she now? Or was she looking for more out of her new life path? Things he wasn’t sure he could give her yet?
She glanced his way and the look in her eyes was unreadable—giving him no answers at all.
“Don’t kid yourself, man. She wants one of them, too,” Jackson said, answering for her.
* * *
“What is that?” Beverly asked, squinting as she peered past him out the kitchen window later that evening.
“What is what?” Asher asked. He’d been barely listening to his mother, his mind still on the sight of Emma with Lily. It had confused him so much, he’d made up an excuse about needing to help his mother with something to avoid going back to her place. Getting a hard-on while thinking about the possibility that she might actually want children would have been near impossible. He’d needed some distance, but he felt guilty when she’d looked so disappointed.
“That blinding light coming from next door,” she said, standing and going to the window.
He carefully bent and straightened his leg the way Emma insisted he do at home. He was probably going overboard with the exercises, but the more he worked the muscles surrounding the injury before they weakened completely, the less rebuilding it would take to get them back once his ACL healed. Also, working out was always his go-to when he needed to clear his head, and this was about as much physical exertion as he could do. He’d work on his upper body by lifting his old set of weights…as soon as he could feel his damn arms again.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Has the man completely lost his mind?” his mother asked.
Asher pushed himself up to join her at the window. The snow had finally stopped, but now, after seven p.m., it looked dark and frigid outside. In contrast, Mr. Callaway’s house was lit up like the Fourth of July with red, blue, and white string lights covering nearly every inch of the peaked roof. A construction crew truck was parked in front with a hand-painted sign on the side that read WE HANG CHRISTMAS LIGHTS.
The construction business in Glenwood Falls was slow in winter.
“It’s festive,” he said.
“It’s tacky…and an eyesore…and…” His mother’s voice trailed off as she grabbed her sweater from the back of her chair. “First that damn noisy adorable dog and now this…” she mumbled.
“Mom, where are you going?” he asked, attempting to block her escape from the kitchen.
She shot him a look that suggested even if he was uninjured she could take him.
He sighed and moved out of the way. Sitting in the chair, he quickly refastened his leg brace and followed his mother to the front door. He waved to Mike Miller, the owner of Miller Construction.
Still on the roof were two teenage boys…Mike’s kids, he assumed.
“Hey, man. Tough break about the leg,” Mike said.
“Yeah. Literally,” he said, wrapping his arms around his body. The temperature drop at night was nut-numbing. “Was this your idea or his?” he asked, nodding toward Mr. Callaway, who stood on the snow-covered lawn in a pair of sweatpants and robe, pointing to the only section of roof not yet covered.
“His.” Mike rolled his eyes. “But I get paid by the hour, so I don’t care.”
“I’ll pay you double to stay and take them all down,” Asher muttered, seeing his mother’s arms flail as she reamed out Mr. Callaway.
Terror danced from one paw to the other on the snow around them.
The older man had obviously mastered the art of the smile and nod as he ignored Beverly’s complaining and continued to instruct the kid about where he could locate the extra set of lights. His ability to tune out was the product of forty years of marriage, no doubt.
Mike shook his head. “As tempting as that offer is, it’s twenty degrees out here and my wife has already texted twice that dinner will not be waiting for me anymore if I’m late again.”
Another blissfully wedded man.
Why did these guys torture themselves by putting a ring on it? He wasn’t opposed to marriage, but if more couples focused on having the kind of relationship that he and Em had—great sex and great friendship—the world would be a much more peaceful place.
A memory of her expression when Lily giggled and kissed her cheek that afternoon made his stomach knot. Was his best friend developing a maternal instinct and a ticking biological clock now that her professional snowboarding days were over?
Man, what he wouldn’t give to get her back on the slopes.
“Boys, come on,” Mike called to the kids on the roof, then turning to Mr. Callaway, he said, “We’ll be back first thing in the morning. Can’t do much more in the dark.”
“Okay. I’ll pick up more lights,” Mr. Callaway said.
“Don’t you dare,” he heard his mother say, as the kids and their father hurried to their truck.
Asher groaned. The lights were an eyesore, but they were just lights. “Mom! It’s freezing. Come back inside.”
She ignored him.
“Mom! Leave the man alone, it’s his house.”
She shot him a look, and he shrugged and slipped back inside.
He tried.
But this arguing between his mother and Mr. Callaway had to end, otherwise they were both in for a real shitty rest of their lives, bickering over every little thing. Three years was long enough.
He couldn’t remember ever fighting with Emma. They had a live-and-let-live philosophy to life. She didn’t expect anything from him. He expected nothing from her. Their friendship was based on trust and a mutual understanding that they had no claims to one another.
Would that always be the case?
Returning to the kitchen, he took advantage of Mr. Callaway’s misfortune and hunted down his painkillers. His leg ached and his head wasn’t much better. Finding the bottle hidden behind a box of puffed no-name-brand cereal, he shook several into his hand and two directly into his mouth. He swallowed them, put the others in his pocket, and tucked the bottle away just as his mother reentered.
“That man is impossible.”
“He refuses to take some of the lights down?”
“Yep. And he insists he’s not done,” she grumbled, peering out the window at the house next door.
“Well, you tried, right?”
Her eyebrow rose. “Oh, I’m just getting started. If he wants a war, he’ll get one.”
“I doubt he wants a war. I think he’s just trying to get into the spirit of the holidays.”
She wasn’t listening, she was already scheming. He could actually see wheels turning in her mind.
“Mom, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing crazy.”
Yeah, right.
“Just a little extra holiday decorating of my own,” she said, leaving the kitchen.
“Mom…” But she was gone.
Asher sighed as his cell phone rang on the kitchen table. Checking the caller ID, he saw his coach’s New Jersey number. He’d been away from the league as well the last two weeks, dealing with a death in his family. “Hey, Coach Hamilton. How are you?”
“I’m good, Ash. Shitty time of year to be burying someone, but then, there really isn’t a good time, is there?” he asked, ever unsentimental.
“No, sir.”
“How’s the knee?” Straight to business.
No doubt by now the team and the NHL officials had received all of his hospital records, so there was no point sugarcoating things. “Surgery went well, but the doctor says six to ten.”
“Almost two weeks ago…You’ve started working with a therapist?”
“Yes, sir.” Emma would send his coach updates as well throughout his progress. The league left nothing to chance, and they were all about full disclosure.
“And everything else is good…”
Shit. He knew what his coach was alluding to. “Yes, sir. There’s no overreliance on meds.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. An injury we can work through. An addiction is a little tougher to overcome, but we have resources…if you need anything, we’re supporting you.”
Ash swallowed hard. “I appreciate that. I assure you, the knee injury is the extent of my issues.”
“Great, son. Take care of yourself. We need you back for that milestone game.”
“Yes, sir.” Disconnecting the call, Asher tossed the phone onto the table. They needed him back for his milestone game. It didn’t escape his notice that his coach hadn’t said “rest of the season.” His pending contract renegotiation suddenly weighed heavy on his mind. Even before the injury, his game had been off, and he’d been stressing over whether the team would re-sign him. Now he was really sweating. And he hated the feeling.
Pushing himself up, he went to the pantry, took the bottle of pills, and tossed them into the trash.
Mental toughness and determination would get him through this, not drugs.
* * *
“Did Christmas elves puke all over the neighborhood?” Emma asked, entering her father’s house the next morning through the front door, which was wide open…for who knew how long? The chill inside suggested her dad had forgotten to close it a long time ago.
Terror ran up to greet her and immediately started licking the snow from her boots. She bent to pick him up and a wave of doggy breath hit her. “Whoa…you stink really bad for such a small thing,” she said as her father appeared slowly behind him. “What are you feeding him?”
He shrugged. “Whatever I eat. Turns out he likes whiskey.”
“Dad!”
“I’m kidding. He’s eating whatever that mushed-up crap is from the cans of food your sister brought over.”
Emma put the dog down and followed her dad into the kitchen, debating whether or not to mention the front door…Better to focus on the bigger issue. For now. “So, seriously, what’s with the lights?” Between her father’s house and Beverly’s, there was enough electricity to light a small village.
“Just a little neighborly competition,” he said, filling an old teakettle with water and setting it on the stove. He preferred the battered old kettle to any of the new electrical ones she and Jess had bought him over the years. At least the thing whistled when it was ready, and her father wasn’t able to completely forget about it.
“Can’t the two of you get along? Or at least ignore one another like normal neighbors do?” she asked, leaving on her coat and scarf. She’d stopped by to walk Terror before heading to work.
“She started it.”
Right.
“Oh my God, Dad—the house looks amazing!” Jess’s voice in the hallway made Emma sigh. Her sister hadn’t mentioned she was stopping by that morning. Otherwise Emma would have let her walk Terror.
“See—Jess likes it,” her dad said with a wink as she entered the kitchen.
As usual her sister was the picture of perfection, wearing knee-high tan boots over a pair of dark brown leggings and an off-white cashmere coat that hugged her body. With its military-style collar and big brown buttons down the front, the coat was obviously a result of a shopping spree in Denver.
Her sister had inherited their mother’s fashion sense—all of it, apparently. If Emma’s thermal coat and practical winter boots were any indication, she’d inherited her father’s sense of practicality. She just didn’t see the need of dressing up in the small town. There was no one here she was trying to impress. And the one person she’d ever been concerned with impressing was usually only seeing her head and shoulders through a Skype connection.
And he didn’t care what she wore. In fact, his favorite outfit of hers was no outfit at all. Which never used to bother her before. But lately, the idea that the only thing he wanted from her was sex was plaguing her.
Which was ridiculous. They’d been best friends long before sex had worked its way into the equation, and besides, she wanted it just as much as he did.
Unfortunately, she also wanted so much more. And it had disappointed her on various levels when he’d called it an early night the evening before.
“Oh, was it your day to walk Terror?” Jess asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Emma wasn’t fooled. Jess had an internal scheduling system that outranked any online calendar. “Yes. But since you’re here, maybe I’ll head to the office early.”
“No. Wait!”
Emma stopped.
“Why don’t we walk him together?” Jess suggested.
Emma sighed. Her sister obviously had an agenda that morning. “Okay.” She grabbed the dog’s leash and, after hooking it to the dog’s sequined collar, followed her sister outside. Once out of earshot, she said, “When I got here the door was wide open.”
Jess waved a hand. “He probably just forgot.”
That was the problem. Their dad was forgetting a lot lately. Her sister didn’t seem to get it. Or she was choosing to not get it.
“So, you’re coming to dinner tonight, right?” she said, changing the subject. “You never actually answered my text.”
Emma shivered in the early morning wind and zipped her coat higher around her neck. “Yes, I’ll be there.” She hadn’t seen her nephews in weeks, and she needed to get the inside scoop on what they wanted for Christmas. If she asked Jess, she’d only insist that Emma buy an educational savings bond or some other gift that would launch her straight into lame-aunt territory. She wanted to get the boys something they really wanted. Preferably something messy and impractical…something Jess would never buy them.
“Great,” her sister said a little too enthusiastically.
Yep, she definitely had an agenda. Emma suspected it had to do with the University of Florida. Her sister hadn’t brought it up since the week before, and her silence was unusual and a little unnerving. But she was happy to delay the conversation until that evening.
“Turn left here. I didn’t check the mail yesterday,” Jess said as they reached the corner.
“You know, at some point Dad needs to learn where the mailbox is,” Emma said. Her sister’s babying of their father had to come to an end. Their dad needed to become more self-sufficient. Or they needed to discuss other options.
“Let’s just get him through the holidays without Mom, and then we can start pushing him to be more independent.”
Fourth holiday without their mother. While Emma suspected the holidays would always be tough, time did ease the pain. She wondered if maybe her sister was using their dad as an excuse to hold on to some of the hurt herself.
Reaching the mailbox, she shoved her hands into her pockets as she waited for her sister to retrieve the mail. Terror danced in slush puddles, getting the insanely expensive doggy boots Jess had bought him—insisting his paws were too fragile for snow and ice—covered in salt and dirt.
Heading back toward the house, she said, “And what are we going to do about the Christmas light situation?”
Jess shrugged. “Help Dad win his battle against Mrs. Westmore.”
Emma laughed before realizing her sister was actually serious. “Come on, Jess. There are already six hundred lights on the roof. I counted seven plastic Santas throughout the property, and he’s talking about adding a sleigh and reindeer to the roof…”
Her sister didn’t seem fazed. “People like it. Dad said cars drove by last night and stopped to admire it.”
Admire? Probably not.
“Look, he’s happy. It’s giving him something to focus on this season, instead of moping around, missing Mom.”
“Okay, fine.” She sighed as they reached the house. “Anyway, I have to go. I have a full schedule today.” Though there was only one patient she was excited to see. As usual, Asher had booked himself as her last appointment of the day, and she wondered if he’d consider going to dinner at Jess’s tonight. Probably not.
Her stomach turned slightly. Beverly and her father didn’t get along. Asher and Jess had never warmed to one another. How could a real relationship ever fare well in that situation? Did it matter? She was willing to try to make one work…if she ever got the nerve to tell Ash that she wanted one. “Anyway, tell Dad I’ll stop by to walk Terror tomorrow at lunch.” How the dog had become her problem, she’d never know.
Jess wasn’t listening, nor was she accepting the dog’s leash. Her gaze was on an envelope in her hand and her eyes were glistening.
“Everything okay?” Emma asked, moving closer to see what it was.
Jess nodded. “It’s a final reminder that there are a few tickets left for the University Hospital’s holiday luncheon and fashion show in Denver on Sunday. Mom and I used to go every year.”
Right, the tradition they’d started years ago. One Emma had never been around to participate in. Not that the high-end holiday event had been of any interest to her.
“The last few years Dad must have tossed the invites out before I could see them.”
Huh. Maybe her father recognized who was having trouble moving on as well.
“Well, you should go again,” Emma suggested. Her sister was friends with just about everyone under forty in town. No doubt she could organize a fun girls’ day out and start a whole new tradition while still holding on to the memory of the times with their mother.
Jess shook her head. “It would be too hard without her.” She wiped the corner of one eye.
“I’m sure she’d want you to continue going…remember the times you went together.”
Jess sniffed as she shook her head. “I don’t know…”
“Okay, well, it’s your choice…”
“Would you go with me?” Jess surprised her by asking.
Crap. “Uh…” Fashion was not her thing, and if Jess’s current state at just the sight of the invite was any indication, it wouldn’t be a fun event. “Why don’t you invite a bunch of girlfriends and book an entire table? Start a whole new tradition.” Two hundred dollars a ticket for an event she really had no interest in attending didn’t appeal to her, either.
“You don’t want to go…that’s fine.” She slid the invite back into the envelope. “I’ll let Dad know you’ll be by tomorrow.” She took Terror’s leash and opened the front door.
Emma released a deep breath. As much of a pain in the ass as her sister was, she hated to see her upset and disappointed. Jess had been close to their mom, and if she needed this to help with the healing process, Emma could be there for her. “Okay, fine, I’ll go.”
Jess shook her head, sniffing once more as she removed Terror’s boots and hung them to dry. “No, it’s okay. It’s not your thing. I won’t insist on dragging you to something you’ll hate.”
Since when? Her sister had passive aggression down to a science. “Jess. I’ll go,” she said again, already regretting it.
“Really?”
Emma nodded.
Her sister stepped back outside and hugged her tight. “Thanks, Em. I’ll make the reservation as soon as I get to work.”
* * *
Had his mother been up all night?
With the aid of his crutch, Asher made his way downstairs, where boxes of Christmas decorations—lights, inflatables, and an old wooden practically life-sized nativity set—sat at the bottom of the stairs. Half of this stuff he hadn’t seen in years. She’d had it all this time still collecting dust in the attic? His mother didn’t get rid of anything.
She opened the front door and stomped snow from her boots as she reached for another box of lights.
“How long have you been up?” he asked. He’d gone to bed sometime after midnight, and she’d been in the attic then.
“I haven’t been to bed yet,” she said, though she looked anything but tired. Obviously running on competitive holiday fuel and pumpkin spice lattes, judging from the smell coming from the kitchen. “You should come out and see what I have done so far.”
“Maybe later,” he said as his cell phone rang in his pocket.
“Great. I’ll let you know when it’s done so you can get the full effect,” she said, heaving the box of lights outside.
“Can’t wait,” he mumbled, heading into the kitchen. At least she wasn’t expecting him to help.
He glanced at the caller ID and contemplated letting it go to voice mail. “Hey, Juliette, what’s up?” He answered the call on the last ring.
“You haven’t RSVP’d to the award ceremony next weekend. I’m sure it was an oversight, but I need a confirmation,” the assistant to the head of NHL corporate events said, sounding as though there were a million other calls she needed to make and she just needed a quick response.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t decided if he would attend. Had he played his milestone game the week before, he would have been recognized at the annual holiday event that celebrated achievements throughout the year. Now, attending would feel like rubbing salt in a wound, knowing the award had slipped through his fingers.
“Asher…”
“Yeah, I’m here. With the injury, I’m just not sure I’ll be able to make it.” He poured himself a cup of his mother’s homemade pumpkin spice latte and took a sip, his eyes widening at the strong taste of amaretto. Spiked homemade pumpkin spice latte. He poured it down the sink—too early.
“You’re recovering back in your hometown right? In Colorado?” Juliette asked.
“Yeah…”
“So there’s no excuse. It’s not like you’d have to fly from Jersey,” she said. “I’m putting you down as confirmed.”
She wasn’t an easy woman to argue with. He shouldn’t have answered the call. “Fine…sure.” He didn’t have to stay long. Just make a quick appearance and get out of there. With his contract renegotiation coming up, it was probably best that he at least show up.
“Great, because your brother is nominated for the NHL Man of the Year award.”
Asher clenched his teeth. Yes, he knew all about it. Ben had been nominated for the prestigious award in September, due to his leading the Avalanche to a Stanley Cup win and the fundraising he’d done for his children’s charities. It had been irritating enough to know that the year Asher was going to be honored with an award, Ben was potentially in the running for one as well. And now it was only Ben.
“And…we were hoping you’d present him the award,” Juliette continued.
His grip tightened on the phone. Ben had won? Fuck Ben. Was there anything his brother wanted that he didn’t get? Asher couldn’t name a single, solitary thing.
And now his brother would be accepting an award and he wouldn’t be.
“Asher—so you’ll do it?”
Of course they assumed he would. They were brothers and co-athletes and professionals who could put aside grievances on the ice…He sighed. “Yes, yeah, I can do it. I’ll be there.”
“Plus one?”
Damn right. He wasn’t doing this alone. “Yes, plus one.”
“Great. Also, I need the addresses for your parents and siblings…and anyone else you think should be there to see Ben being honored. Their invites will remind them to keep the secret, and they will be held in a private dinner area until the award is presented.”
She continued to ramble on with more details about his role, but he tuned out. After giving her the information she needed, he disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the counter.
He ran a hand over his scruffy chin and then rested his palms against the counter, his head falling forward.
Unbelievable. Now, not only did he have to go to the event, knowing he wouldn’t be honored that year, but he had to award another honor to the guy responsible?
Reaching for the coffee pot, he poured another cup of the spiked pumpkin spice latte.
* * *
Staring at her acceptance letter in her office, Emma sighed. Even at the best-case scenario and Ash fully recovered in four more weeks, that would bring them up to January 1. There was no way she could get everything organized and arranged to be in Florida to start the semester by the following week.
The disappointment she felt at the idea of turning down the early enrollment opportunity reconfirmed her desire to pursue her PhD. She wanted this. Giving up snowboarding might have been premature at the time and something that had been partially out of her control, but she’d gone out at the top of her career. Ultimately, the forced retirement had been a good thing.
If only there was a way to make this work.
But Ash needed her, and this was where she needed to be. September wasn’t that far away, and it had been the original plan anyway, right?
Jane knocked on the therapy room door, and Emma folded the letter and tucked it away. “Is my eleven o’clock here already?” she asked, glancing at the time on her computer.
“No. I, uh…just wanted to ask you something.”
Emma waited.
“Do you know if Asher is seeing anyone? He keeps his personal life out of the media so well…” She gave a nervous laugh.
Emma’s mouth went dry. The gorgeous redhead was interested in Ash? Of course she was. Who wasn’t?
“Em?”
She blinked. “Oh, right…um, no. I mean, I don’t think so. He doesn’t always tell me everything,” she said, hoping to dismiss the conversation with a wave. She stood. “I better get everything set up for my next appointment.” She walked toward the table, but instead of leaving, Jane followed.
“But as far as you know, he’s single?”
Emma’s throat felt like it was closing off. “Yep.” She ripped the old sheet from the table and balled it, tossing it into the hamper.
Jane released a deep breath. “Well, do you think he’d go for someone like me?”
Someone drop-dead gorgeous with a full figure and amazing hair? Probably. “I really don’t know Asher’s type…” She shrugged, opening a cabinet and taking out a clean sheet.
“Come on, Em…give me something. I’m a single mom who hasn’t been on a date in almost three years.”
Emma sighed. “He’d be crazy not to be interested in you,” she said, flicking the sheet into the air and securing the corners as it fell.
Jane smiled. “Well, I know this will sound completely lame, but do you think you could set us up?”
“No!” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
Jane frowned. “Okay…”
Emma forced a laugh. “It’s just, I think he’d respond better to you asking him yourself.” This entire conversation was killing her. She wanted Asher, and she needed to do something about it before she lost him. His leg was starting to feel better, his mood was better…Soon, she’d tell him how she felt.
“Is he coming in to see you today?” Jane asked.
Emma turned to glance at her, hoping for a miracle and that the woman had forgotten to put on makeup that day…or at least was sporting a sloppy ponytail. Nope. Jane was as put-together and gorgeous as ever, pulling off a dark charcoal pencil skirt that accentuated her waist and full hips in a way Emma would have to get butt implants to pull off. “Yes. He is.”
Jane smiled. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll ask him out.”
“Fantastic. Hey, can you close the door behind you?” she asked as Jane headed toward it.
Once it shut, Emma slumped in her chair, glancing at her sensible black dress pants and pale blue polo shirt with the therapy logo in the corner.
Given the choice between her—his flat-chested, no-ass friend whom he’d seen naked a million times already—and the mysterious sex bomb, who would Ash choose?
* * *
His brother Jackson turned in to the therapy office parking lot. He had made the mistake of stopping by that morning, and immediately their mother had put him to work on the decorations for the yard. Driving Asher to his therapy session had been Jackson’s escape. “Can’t catch a break, huh?” he asked him.
Asher had spilled the beans about the Man of the Year Award, unable to keep the frustrating, ironic turn of events to himself. “Look, you know I’m happy for Ben…for everything he’s achieved, but this is just a kick to the nuts.” He didn’t begrudge his brother the award; he just wished it were happening under different circumstances. Delivering a speech the following weekend that praised Ben for all of his accomplishments wouldn’t be so damn hard if he wasn’t still pissed at the guy.
“I don’t envy you, man,” Jackson said. “The only advice I can give you is to just think of him as Ben, your brother, and not Ben, your competition, for once.”
“Probably the only way I’ll be able to get through a speech honoring him,” he agreed, knowing Jackson was right.
“And you know Mom’s going to expect you two to put this fighting behind you before the holidays.”
Asher reached for the door handle. “The only thing on her mind is beating Mr. Callaway for the tackiest house on the block.”
Jackson’s cell chimed. “Speak of the devil.” He read the text. “I’ve been gone too long.” He sighed. “Do you need a ride back?”
Asher climbed out of the car. “Nah. I’ll hang out with Em tonight. I’m her last patient of the day,” he said, suddenly feeling a little better and eager to get this appointment finished so they could go back to her place for the evening. Without the meds he was suffering a little more, and she was the only thing that eased his pain.
“All right, man. Take it easy,” Jackson said as he closed the door.
Entering the clinic, he tugged the big, heavy old door closed behind him.
“Hey, Asher,” Jane said, standing as she saw him.
“Hi, Jane. How are you?” he asked, approaching the desk and leaning over it. If he sat again, getting up would be a struggle.
“I’m great. Um, actually, I wanted to ask you…if maybe you wanted to grab a drink at the Grumpy Stump tonight?”
Caught slightly off guard, he laughed. “You don’t hang out there, do you? You’re far too pretty to be slobbered on by all the local single men.”
She blushed. “Thanks. Actually, I don’t hang out anywhere. Single-mom life doesn’t lend itself to many dates. Not that this would be a date…”
Oh damn. He felt like an ass saying no to the woman who was obviously putting herself out there…but he wasn’t interested in dating. In fact, since his last semi-permanent situation ended a while ago, he’d been enjoying how things were going with Emma. Right now, she was certainly the only one he wanted to be with. “I…uh…”
Emma appeared in the reception area, an unreadable expression on her face as she glanced back and forth between the two of them.
“Well, the thing is…I promised Emma I’d do that…thing with her tonight,” he said, looking at her to save him.
Her expression softened slightly as she slowly nodded. “Right, you did promise me you would do that…thing tonight.”
He smiled. Saved. Now he could resume getting excited about a full evening with her, naked, with no pressure of a flight out the next day or having to be anywhere at all. The idea excited him beyond the sexy thoughts coming to mind. He looked forward to just being with her, holding her, kissing her, and talking. He’d been so caught up in his own problems the last few weeks, he had no idea what was going on with her.
“Okay, yeah, no problem,” Jane said, busying herself with the papers on her desk.
He felt like a jerk. He turned to Emma for help.
“Um…maybe Asher could get you and Aiden tickets for a game in Denver,” she said.
Perfect. Right there—that’s why he loved her so much. The thought made him pause. Love? Of course, love. She was his best friend.
“Right, Ash?” she said when he’d yet to confirm her suggestion.
“Oh, yeah…no problem.”
Jane smiled. “Aiden would love that. Thank you,” she said, sitting back down at her desk as the phone rang.
Emma’s eyes held a hint of amusement as he followed her into her therapy room.
“What?” he asked.
She closed the door behind them and grinned. “You just turned down a hot date to suffer through dinner at my sister’s house tonight.”
Oh shit.