Best Played (Salt Lake Pumas) Page 5

  Frowning slightly, I tried to imagine what that could be. “We went out a few times, got to know each other. Would you -” My frown deepened. “Are you the kind of boyfriend that sends flowers and stuff?” I’d never had that kind of boyfriend, I wasn’t sure whether I could convincingly fake it.

  He seemed to actually pause to think about it. Then, I could almost swear a small blush colored his cheeks. “No, not really,” Olle admitted. “I think I’m more the sort of boyfriend who takes you out for dinner. I don’t think of flowers unless it’s a birthday or something.” It was a very honest answer and almost made me smile just at that.

  “Are you the sort of girlfriend who’d want flowers? I can probably say I am much better at sending them than I am,” Olle shrugged.

  Wrinkling my nose, I shook my head immediately. “No. I’d much rather go out to dinner, if those are the options. I can buy myself flowers, if I want them. I can’t take myself out to dinner and have an interesting conversation.”

  Olle laughed, but it was a nice kind of laugh. It wasn’t that he found me amusing, more that he liked the way I’d expressed something. I could tell, even before he said it, that he agreed with me.

  “I’ll buy you flowers, though,” I offered. “There’s no reason it has to be the boyfriend that does.”

  The way Olle’s eyes sparkled in response, I was sure he found that idea amusing. And maybe kind of nice. I always felt it was a shame that more women didn’t get their boyfriends flowers. Not that Olle was my boyfriend. Only pretend!

  “Alright, so I took you out for dinner and you got me flowers,” he grinned. “Do you think we need more details? I worry it might all feel too much and we’ll forget something. How good are you at winging it?”

  Feeling a squirming anxiety in the pit of my stomach, I shrugged and tried to play it cool. “I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. Lying to my family was new for me. Of course, there were things I hadn’t told them, but that was easy! Coming up with a whole fake relationship was a lot harder.

  “But it’s not like they’ll be looking to catch us out,” I pointed out. It reassured me as much as I hoped it reassured Olle. “They want me not to be alone, so they’ll be thrilled I’ve brought you. My dad might be hard to impress…” That was an understatement, definitely. “But even that isn’t the same as him thinking we might be lying.”

  Truly, I doubted anyone would think about it as much as we would. “People are never paying as much attention as you think. If we say different things, people will just think one of us forgot.”

  “I’m not worried.” Olle shrugged.

  It struck me that he was telling the truth. In this whole conversation, Olle had been rather... relaxed. Like pretending to be someone’s boyfriend - someone he didn’t really know - just didn’t bother him. It was almost a bit weird, but probably exacerbated by my own anxiety.

  “No one asks that much detail about someone you’re dating,” he pointed out. “We’ve got the ‘how we met’ figured out, the rest will be fine. People might ask you what I’m like, but no one’s going to ask me what you’re like because they know you. And like, I’m mostly fine, just say that.”

  I sputtered out a laugh, shaking my head. “I’ve gone to all the trouble to recruit you! I’m going to say you’re more than ‘mostly fine’.” Besides, Olle had been nothing but generous with me so far. It wouldn’t be difficult to convince my family that he was a good boyfriend.

  Stretching, I tried to dissolve the restlessness that coursed through me. It was a mix of anxiety and excitement. Even if it was all pretend, I was looking forward to spending a whole week getting to know Olle! Showing him around my home should be fun, and something I’d want to remember in the years to come.

  First, we just had to get through the flight. Since Olle seemed perfectly content to sit back and people watch, I offered to go get us some crossword puzzles to take on the plane. Stretching my legs would help, and having something to do with my hands might make me feel less fidgety.

  It was all going to be fine. If nothing else, it was going to be better than turning up to Rachel’s wedding alone. As long as I kept that in mind, I could go through with this and subdue any guilt I might feel about not being totally honest.

  It was only a week. And what my family didn’t know, couldn’t hurt them!

  Chapter Six

  Olle

  Three hours on the plane didn’t feel like all that much. I wasn’t particularly nervous, even if this definitely was uncharted territory. Roxi and I chatted a bit more about more generic things, like favorite colors and preferred foods. It wasn’t something that her family was going to ask about or even something they’d be surprised to learn I didn’t know. Still, it was nice to know.

  Once Roxi relaxed a little more, she became more chatty, less factual and practical. It was a nice change to see and made me smile a little. At times, it almost felt like her organizational skills were like a wall she built around herself. Not one that was too difficult to pierce, but still.

  I was a little glad that our arrangements to get to Roxi’s parents’ vineyard didn’t include being picked up. Making awkward conversation with no escape trapped in a car wasn’t something I greatly desired.

  Instead, Roxi had rented a car. It gave me the opportunity to see much more of Tennessee. Even through the car window, the place looked great. It was so different from Salt Lake City that it was almost impossible to imagine that this was still the same country.

  Roxi told me when we were pulling up, but I probably could have guessed. The vineyard was wide, currently not in bloom yet still impressive. Fields and fields of grapevines, held up by wooden grids. It was pretty much exactly like what I imagined it to be, just even more beautiful.

  The drive to the house led us through some of the vineyards and I could only picture how fun it must have been to grow up somewhere like this. It wasn’t, of course, Sweden, but it was still very pretty.

  And then we were there.

  “Ready?” I asked Roxi, but it was hardly like we had a choice. We were here now, it was time to face the music.

  Roxi’s body seemed to simultaneously vibrate with nervous energy and relax into the balmy Tennessee air. It wasn’t a combination I had seen anybody else bring together. Her red hair glowed in the sunlight, shining like this was her natural habitat. And maybe it was!

  “I’m ready,” she agreed. She glanced down between us, but we both had one hand busy with luggage. A hand-holding arrival would have to wait until later. Roxi carried her own case, dragging it behind her while I slung my bag over one shoulder.

  Approaching the house, Roxi inhaled deeply. The air smelled different here than it did in Salt Lake City - purer, more fresh. “I’m hoooome!” she shouted, fingers tightening on the handle of her suitcase.

  A woman who I assumed was Roxi’s mom rushed out, apron tied around her waist. “Roxi!” They clung to each other for a moment, despite the bulk of Roxi’s suitcase.

  “And you must be Olle. You can call me Mona, Roxi’s told us all a little about you. She said you’ve never been to Tennessee before? Or to a vineyard? We’ll have to give you a tour, later.”

  It was hard not to smile at the enthusiasm that Mona showed. “Thank you for welcoming me to your home,” I offered. The thanks seemed to make Mona even more pleased, because she could hardly stop herself from giving me a hug.

  “I’m sorry! It’s just so nice to meet someone Roxi’s brought home!” she informed me. “We never get to meet any of her boyfriends, so I know you must be special!” Even without looking at Roxi, I could feel the way her cheeks reddened.

  “I must be,” I agreed with a smile. If there was some guilt at outright lying to Mona, it was easy enough to suppress. “And yes, I’ve never been to a vineyard and much less a vineyard in Tennessee, I could hardly turn down Roxi’s invitation!” That part was certainly true.

  “You’ve come at the right time of year,” Mona promised. “Though, there isn’t really a wrong time o
f year. Tennessee is always beautiful.” Mona’s voice was very like Roxi’s, if slightly deeper and more heavily accented. The similarity between the two of them made me warm to Mona instantly.

  Mona showed us the way into the house, urging us to drop our bags in the hall and come straight through to the kitchen. “We’ve got some time before dinner, but I can fix you a snack if you’re hungry,” Mona offered.

  “More thirsty than hungry,” Roxi answered, stretching up to pull some glasses from the shelf. “You want some lemonade?” she asked me. I nodded, letting Mona almost push me into a chair. Clearly, I was not going to be allowed to help.

  “You’re our guest!” Mona pointed out. “So where did you live before Salt Lake City? Did you move there straight from Sweden?”

  “Portland,” I answered. “Only a couple of years before I got traded.” I didn’t think Mona would ask me about why I had been traded. Most people just took it as a part of hockey, rather than looking for more than ten-year-old reasons. Still, I switched subject.

  Thanking Roxi for the glass of lemonade she handed me, I carried on. “I’ve been in Salt Lake for over a decade now. It’s nice, but I must admit Tennessee is very different. Roxi’s been talking my ear off about how pretty it is and she is definitely right.”

  “I -” Roxi started, then instantly pressed her lips together. She shifted, swinging her braid over her shoulder to hide her face a little. I wondered if she was blushing again. “I’m not going to apologize. You must have liked it enough to accept the invitation.”

  And yeah, I really had.

  Mona smiled, dropping into the seat next to mine. “Roxi’s father used to talk my ear off about vineyards and wine when we were first dating,” she confided. “I didn’t know anything about how grapes were grown, but before I knew it, here I was helping him to run the place!”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think I’m going to be helping Roxi manage any properties anytime soon,” I teased. “Only on the way here, I had to ask her to explain to me again what it even means.” It wasn’t a lie and something about that felt very nice. An easy kind of conversation that was completely honest.

  Mona didn’t even think it strange, joining in me giving a wide smile of her own. “It’s just that there’s no wine being grown, that makes things more exciting,” she informed me.

  “Oh, I’m sure,” I nodded. “Roxi said it’s you who gave her the passion for the type of work she does, you must feel pleased?” From how Mona’s eyes lit up at that, I could tell she was.

  “Of course I do,” Mona agreed, turning to give Roxi a fond smile. “I’m pleased with how all my children have turned out! I like to think that they all have a little piece of me, and of their father.”

  Roxi laughed. “I can see how you make that argument for me and Peter and Steph,” she agreed. “I’m not sure what Rachel being a doctor has to do with wine or tourism.” But from the way she beamed with pride, it was clear that Rachel was hardly the black sheep of the family.

  “Rachel was always the most noble of us,” Roxi added. “Are she and Tim coming for dinner?”

  They were, Mona informed us. She then chatted away about the wedding plans, her accent getting thicker and almost challenging for me to catch everything. I didn’t mind, though, instead letting my gaze drift out the window.

  From the kitchen, you could see across the vineyard. It was fairly flat so the visibility was almost impressive. At no point had I asked Roxi how big the place was, but it seemed pretty big to me. Then again, I supposed that I had no real knowledge of what was or was not a big vineyard.

  Roxi had said that it was almost more of a tourist attraction. It wasn’t hard to see why people would want to come here. Or why someone would want to get married here even if they hadn’t grown up at the vineyard like Rachel.

  “What do you think, Olle?” I heard Mona say and my eyes snapped back to her.

  “I’m sorry? I got a bit distracted by the view,” I admitted.

  It seemed like the right sort of thing to say, because Mona laughed. “That’s fine, I’m sure you’re not too interested in the logistics of Rachel’s wedding. I asked if you wanted to go rest up before dinner, Roxi can show you where the two of you are staying.”

  There was absolutely no reason why this hadn’t struck me before, but of course, Roxi and I would share a room. We were dating after all, so why wouldn’t we, right? From the way her eyes seemed to have gone slightly wider, too, I could tell it hadn’t occurred to Roxi either.

  “Yeah,” I confirmed, realizing that Mona was still awaiting an answer. “That sounds good.”

  Mona came with us into the hall, outlining the plans for dinner and entreating me not to be shy if there was anything I needed and didn’t have. It was only once she’d brought us to the door of our room that she left us, giving Roxi a quick kiss on the cheek and telling us she’d see us soon.

  “Oh my God,” Roxi breathed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think about them expecting us to share a room!” She looked so stricken, like she genuinely felt it was her fault. “I mean, it’s so obvious now,” she added.

  There was no easy way to tell Roxi’s family that we didn’t want to share, I could see that. “I could try to sneak an air mattress down from the attic,” Roxi suggested, cracking the door open and ushering me inside - presumably so we could talk without fear of being overheard.

  It was a pretty big room, but also obviously Roxi’s room growing up. There were posters of horses on the walls and also some of... “Is that Ryan Reynolds?” I asked, tilting my head. He certainly looked younger than in anything I’d seen him in. Frankly, I hadn’t even known he’d been famous enough for posters when Roxi had been a teenager.

  My eyes then moved to the double bed. It wasn’t small by any means. “I don’t mind sharing,” I told Roxi truthfully. “If you do, then yes, by all means, I can sleep on the floor or something.” It wouldn’t be the most comfortable, sure, but I’d prefer that to making Roxi uncomfortable.

  “No!” Roxi objected at once. “Of course I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor!” She gave me a little shove, catching me enough off guard that I wobbled for half a second. Roxi’s gaze up at me was still a little sheepish, but she was smiling too.

  As she moved away, I almost missed the warmth of Roxi’s hands against me. “It’s a big bed, and I don’t snore or anything, as far as I know.” She set her bag down, reaching out to fluff the nearest of the pillows. “We’ll make it work,” she assured me. “Do you have a particular side of the bed?”

  “I prefer the left,” I answered truthfully. The gentlemanly thing would have been to ask which side Roxi preferred but if she was giving me the choice, it was left that I’d pick. “And I probably do snore,” I admitted. “Not horrifically, I don’t think, but some.” No one I had shared a room with on away games had complained about it, but I had definitely taken more than one puck to the face in my life.

  Walking around, I began to take in the room more. It wasn’t what I would necessarily expect. Not that I really knew Roxi. What wasn’t surprising was that everything was nicely organized. Of course, she didn’t live here, so it perhaps was that.

  “When did you move out?” I asked.

  Roxi sat down, tugging her shoes off and wriggling her toes in the plush carpet. “For the first time, about fifteen years ago,” Roxi answered. “I went to college in Kansas, and I stayed there for a few years after I graduated.” She stretched, her body arching in a way that made me glance away. It felt almost too intimate.

  “I wasn’t like you. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, exactly. I was good at organizing things, even then, but figuring out how to get people to pay me for that took a little while.” That was understandable; I’d have no idea how to get someone to pay me to organize for them. “Anyway, I had a string of jobs that didn’t really work out, so I moved back home for a while.”

  “But left the posters up?” I teased. It was kind of sweet. My parents, while they loved me d
early, had turned my bedroom into a home office approximately six weeks after I’d moved out. There was, no doubt, a box somewhere full of my hockey posters, but my parents hadn’t felt the need to leave those up.

  Roxi smiled, shrugging one shoulder as she leaned back against the pillows. “I like having something on the walls to look at. Blank walls are so… boring.” That made me laugh, but I couldn’t deny it. “But it seemed silly to buy art prints when I wasn’t going to be staying for long.”

  With a glance towards the Ryan Reynolds poster, Roxi gave a soft giggle. “Besides, it’s not like he stopped being cute while I was away!” Though I didn’t see the appeal myself, I supposed that made sense, too. “Why, who did you have a crush on in high school?” Roxi asked.

  The question almost surprised me, because I’d been expecting one about posters rather than crushes. But perhaps Roxi could easily predict that my answer would be that all my posters had been of hockey. They really had been, too, but of course, that didn’t mean I hadn't had teenage crushes.

  I didn’t even have to think very long before answering. “Princess Sofia,” I told her. “Except she wasn’t a princess then. She was a glamour model before marrying into the royal family.” And if that wasn’t the sort of great fairytale just with a bit more reality TV thrown in, I wasn’t sure what was.

  “No posters, though,” I added, despite not having been asked.

  Roxi snorted with amusement, the sound making me smile. I felt glad that she could relax around me - that was going to make pretending to be a couple much easier. “A glamor model,” she repeated. “Well, I’m sure you weren’t the only one.”

  She rose to her feet, padding around the room, touching things with the kind of tenderness that accompanied nostalgia. Picking up a framed photograph, she offered it to me. “This was Lear,” she explained. “I don’t know if you remember, apparently I was telling you about him that night you drove me home.”

  “The horse.” I nodded reaching for the frame. “You were very invested in telling me all about him,” I confirmed. A soft blush tinted Roxi’s cheeks and it was hard to stop myself from thinking how cute she looked. Shaking my head, I glanced down at the picture.