“I don’t think Toronto fans are known for being kind. Crazy, yes, masochistic, sure, but not really kind. And they’re tough on goalies. You’re replacing a popular guy, and Turchenko has a lot of fans here, so they’re going to be rough on you.”
“You’re not a Turchenko fan?” Mike asked, remembering her brother’s comment.
“I think he’s got a lot of skill, but he’s not working hard enough. He makes spectacular saves, so you know he can do it, but he shouldn’t have to. He pulls a lot of boneheaded moves.”
Mike smiled again. This woman was obviously smart, and he agreed with her about Turchenko. But he’d revealed enough.
“I should let you go. You work in the morning?”
“Don’t worry about the time. It’s my own fault for abducting you like that. I do appreciate your being such a good sport about it.”
Mike unfolded himself from the car. “Honestly, I enjoyed myself. I like your family and—” he paused and leaned in “—you couldn’t score on me.”
With a grin, he slammed the door shut on her sputtering.
* * *
BRIDGET DIDN’T SEE Mike the next morning. She reprimanded herself for noticing. He was a big-time professional athlete. He had been very nice last night, but he was from a different world. He wasn’t interested in her, and she wasn’t looking for a guy now anyway. Coaching may not have been her first career choice, but now that she was doing it, she had serious plans.
She had a good workout and then headed home to get ready to spend some time with Jee. They’d been best friends growing up, and they still shared almost everything. Bridget couldn’t really be her friend’s confidant on marital issues since Jee had married her brother Brian—even if Brian was her favorite brother. Bridget didn’t think Jee had issues with her in-laws, but then, she’d known what she was getting into. Jee had spent most of her free time at Bridget’s.
Everyone in the family knew that Jee and Brian had been trying to start a family for more than a year now. But Bridget knew the details that the others didn’t. She felt for her friend’s troubles, but all she could do was provide a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen.
Bridget could tell when they met that Jee had had bad news again, so they went on a shopping spree. Bridget shopped only in athletic stores or online, but she was happy to keep Jee company and to compliment her choices. Jee would roll her eyes at some of her comments, but by the time they were done, Jee was looking a little more cheerful.
They stopped at a neighborhood restaurant to have dinner. Jee wanted to hear about Mike. The family news network had been working with its usual speediness.
“There’s not much to tell. I bet you heard everything that happened and some that didn’t.”
“What’s he like? He’s good-looking, right?” Jee asked, perking up a little.
Bridget focused on the first question. “He was nice enough not to raise a stink about me kidnapping him.”
“Kidnapping? Nancy didn’t mention anything about that.” Jee sounded shocked.
“Patrick couldn’t tell her what he didn’t know. I didn’t share that with the family. You know he was the lane swimmer, right?”
Jee nodded. Bridget had complained to her about the lane swimmer. She recapped the events of the day for her friend but didn’t mention the conversation in the car. She didn’t think Mike wanted public speculation about his possible retirement. In Toronto, that would cause an uproar. Maybe she’d read too much into it anyway.
“So is he cute in person?” Jee asked.
Bridget thought. “Not really cute. He’s big—taller than any of the boys, and he’s fit, obviously. He’s got a bend in his nose, but otherwise he’s pretty undamaged for a hockey player.” Bridget thought about the gray eyes, smiling at her, daring her to try to score on him. He had a nice voice, too, and well, he wasn’t ugly.
“No,” she continued. “Cute is not the right word, but he’s okay-looking.”
“You mean he’s no Connor Treadwell,” Jee said, an edge to her voice.
Bridget blushed. Jee was the only member of her family who knew all about the crush she’d had on Connor Treadwell. Connor was a champion American swimmer. He was retired now, but Bridget had run into him at meets over her career, and since he was now coaching, she’d met him at competitions and conferences, too. He had blond hair, bright blue eyes and an incredible body that a swimsuit exposed to admiration. Bridget had gone out with him a couple of times, but they hadn’t parted on good terms. Jee thought he was a jerk, but Bridget knew she was partly to blame herself.
“You should be happy about that,” Bridget responded. “But except for running into him at the club, I doubt I’ll have anything to do with Mike Reimer again.”
MIKE HAD NO plans to spend time with Bridget. His focus was on hockey, and he’d learned the hard way that hockey and relationships didn’t mix for him. The road ball game had been fun, but that wasn’t going to make him the best again. Still, it had reminded him of why he played. It would be a nice touch, and reflect well on his upbringing, if he made some kind of thank-you gesture to the O’Reillys. He could send Mrs. O’Reilly some flowers, but he didn’t know their address, and he wasn’t going to have them delivered to Bridget at the pool. He’d picked up on the fact that the family was hockey mad, which was something he could work with. Once the regular season games began in October, he thought it was a good time to set something up. When he saw Bridget was teaching during his next lap swim, he came back to the pool after changing.
She was ushering the kids into the changing rooms. One kid was giving her a hard time. He thought it was the one who muttered at him at the game. When she finally shooed the boy into the changing room, Mike called her name. She started, then recognized him and walked over.
Her hair was standing up in spots, and her glasses looked heavy on her face. He wondered why she hadn’t had her vision corrected. She was comfortable in a swimsuit, and she had a fit and trim figure. Her movements were sure and controlled. She might be a coach, but she was still an athlete.
“Mike?” she asked, sounding surprised.
“I should be able to get a couple tickets to tomorrow’s game, if you think someone in your family might like to go? I’d like to thank them for the evening last week.”
* * *
BRIDGET BLINKED. HE wanted to thank them? She thought she should be thanking him. As she’d told him in the car, he’d been an awfully good sport.
“Ah, sure. That would be great,” she responded.
“I’ll need to send you the details on how to pick up the tickets. What’s your cell?”
Bridget recited her number. She held back a grin. She’d have to tell Jee that she’d given her phone number to a hockey star.
“Okay, I’ll set it up with the sales department.”
“Thanks. You don’t have to, you know,” she assured him.
“Don’t thank me until I know for sure I can get them for you,” he said, busily typing.
Bridget shrugged and turned to go. She was busy, but her dad would be thrilled.
Sure enough, later that day Bridget got a text telling her where and how to pick up the tickets. Bridget saved the text and showed her dad that night when she got home. Her mother thought Bridget should go, since Mike was “her” friend. Cormack argued that she’d just been to a game. Since Bridget was working till after