Ben rubbed my wrist, his warm fingers warm and gentle. “Good,” he murmured kissing the top of my head. “I can live with an old, balding, bad toothed, Seamus.”

And with those words, Ben Lancaster fused the parts in me that were broken. I knew that it was a temporary fix. That those pieces would continue to shift and move and diminish, but for now it was enough.

For now I could pretend that things were going to be just fine.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ben

I hung up the phone and strode outside onto the deck. It was close to five in the afternoon and the guys were finishing up the last bit of landscaping around the pool.

They’d worked like dogs for two weeks around the property, but had to wait for the old concrete monster to be removed and the new fibre glass pool installed, before they could finish up back here. The place was starting to look great and fuck if I could believe it was mine.

Holy shit. I felt kinda grown up.

“Mr. Lancaster, what do you think?”

“It’s Ben,” I said shaking my head. I hated being called Mr. Lancaster. Christ, that was my dad’s name and I wasn’t ready for that kind of shit yet. I wasn’t even twenty-five.

Mike, the owner of the landscaping company I’d hired, Green Thumb, was a good guy. He reminded me a lot of one of my old coaches, back when I was still playing junior hockey in Canada. He was a rough looking, no-bullshit, Italian with a temper and a hard work ethic. He wasn’t cheap either, but as I glanced around the small paradise he’d created in my back yard, the guy was worth it.

“It looks great.”

He nodded. “We’re just cleaning up and will be out of here in a few minutes and then you can,” he winked. “Have some time with your girl.”

My girl.

I nodded but didn’t reply.

At the moment I didn’t know what Georgia was. Something had shifted and changed the night we’d come back from golf. On that ride home, she’d shared a chunk of what was inside her. A small chunk. A crumb really.

But she had shared it and we’d come back to my place and spent the entire night together. And if I thought our first night was incredible, it was nothing compared to that night. I thought having her, being inside her was enough, but the connection we’d achieved heightened everything and fuck me, but I thought I was falling in love with this girl.

The shit thing was that was the last night she’d spent with me. She came every day, spent her time in her barn painting, with frequent sex breaks, but she refused to spend the night again.

She’d told me that it was because we were moving a little too fast and she preferred going back to Matt’s. And I got that. Hell, I wrote the book on that shit.

But it didn’t mean I liked it. I hated waking up alone. I wanted her there with me. So what did that make me? Pathetic? Hopeful?

What did that make Georgia? Was she a fuck buddy? Was she my girlfriend?

I rubbed the stubble on my chin, my dick already getting hard at the thought of her, but it was tempered by the knowledge that even though she’d given up something personal—Seamus—she had shut it down the next day.

I was no closer to knowing what made her tick or why she was seeing a therapist than before, and it was starting to piss me off.

“We’re done, Mr…ah, Ben.”

Distracted, I nodded. “Okay, Mike, send me the final invoice and I’ll get it looked after.”

“So.” Mike shoved a pencil behind his ear. “I gotta admit I wasn’t happy when the Flyers traded McKinskey, Reynolds, and a future draft pick, to bring you out here.”

“Yeah?” That got my attention.

Mike was serious, but then most hockey guys were.

“McKinskey was a popular son-of-a-bitch you know? He had future Captain written all over him. He had some legs on him too, but his hands needed work. I see that now. You’ve got soft hands, good stick handling hands and speed to match. But a lot of folks including myself thought you were just too damn young to fill McKinskey’s shoes.”

I didn’t say anything. Mostly because it was nothing I hadn’t heard before. I’d always been the youngest. Always been the fastest, the most accurate. I could nail the top shelf, hit any corner more consistently than any guy I knew.




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