Sweet as Pie by Alicia Hunter Pace

Chapter Two

Jake’s phone had been vibrating against his thigh like a jackhammer on concrete for twenty minutes, yet here he was eating Mississippi mud pie like it was his job. Robbie was usually patient and easygoing, though anyone would be annoyed at being kept waiting this long. But the apology was done and the air was clear between him and Evie. They wouldn’t have to go there again.

He put the last bite of chocolate heaven into his mouth. He’d ordered this pie in restaurants many times, but he’d never had any that was right—that tasted like home—outside the Delta until now.

“Would you like another piece?” Evie asked.

No, I really have to go meet Robbie, but I’ll see you soon.That’s what he opened his mouth to say.

“No thank you, but I would like some more milk.” What? Was there some milk-loving demon alien in him—one that didn’t care that he had to go?

“Sure.” She smiled and her dimples waved at him.

She rose from her chair and sashayed away with his milk glass.

He watched her go.

With her peachy skin, dark shiny hair, and compact little body, Evie was lovely. The thought jolted him. He’d never used the word lovely in his life. He was more of a hot or a babe guy, but those things seemed a little too aggressive for Evie’s quiet kind of beauty. She wasn’t his type, of course. He went for tall, blond bombshells, though there hadn’t been any lately.

The bow from Evie’s apron sat low on the small of her back. That was an interesting look. In his experience, bombshells didn’t do a lot of apron-wearing. They might if they knew what a good accessory the bow would be.

Evie was coming toward him again, smiling and speaking to people as she walked. People liked her. And why not? She was nice and she had pie, good pie. Plus she was so smart, way smarter than he was. Now she was laughing at something a teenage girl had said. If she could bottle and sell that laugh, she could get out of the pie business. Though she probably didn’t want out. She was happy.

Happy.How long had it been since he’d been in the company of a truly happy woman?

It would be good to be around some joy—with someone who wasn’t looking for romance, or sex, or a game-worn jersey. His phone vibrated again. He really did have to go.

Jake almost rose to do just that, but then Evie set the milk down in front of him. Right. The milk-loving demon had asked for milk.

“Thank you.” He drained it in one gulp and stood up. “I should let you get back to work.”

“And you have lunch waiting.” She was on to him. She always had been.

“Can’t be as good as this pie. I believe I’ll take one with me—a whole one.” He reached for his wallet.

“No.” Evie put a hand on his wrist. “Your money is no good here.” She led him to the counter. “Tell Joy to box up whatever you want. I insist. We’re family.”

“Not anymore,” he pointed out.

She half closed her eyes and shook her head. “Of course we are, Jake. Delta family. We were that long before you married my cousin.”

Home. Family.

“Let’s get together soon,” he rushed to say when she turned to go.

Evie gave him a smile over her shoulder as she walked toward the kitchen door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m catering the team training camp lunch.”

He got the feeling he’d landed exactly where he needed to be.

With pumpkins and scarecrows decorating storefronts, the streets of Laurel Springs looked like fall, but felt like summer. His phone vibrated again. Robbie—just as he’d thought. He didn’t answer, but hurried his steps. He was forty-five minutes late and, clearly, Robbie was uncharacteristically agitated—and for good reason. If not for Jake, Robbie wouldn’t have uprooted himself from Nashville. Jake had been astounded when Robbie had asked for the trade. He claimed that he, too, wanted a chance to skate first line, but Jake knew Robbie had made the change because of the bond between the two of them. They were a couple of guys who’d made it to the major league despite hailing from places that weren’t exactly hotbeds of ice hockey—Mississippi and Scotland.

If Robbie’s decision hadn’t been surprising enough, another Sound family member had made the switch to the Hammers, too. Former center Nickolai Glazov had retired and immediately signed on as an assistant coach with the new team. Jake wondered what had brought that on, but doubted if he’d ever know. If the former Sound captain ever explained his motives, it wouldn’t be to anyone he called “wet behind the ears baby dogs” like Jake and Robbie.

Jake quickened his pace as he scanned the buildings for Hammer Time. Ah. There. He saw Robbie’s silver Corvette—illegally parked—out front before he saw the restaurant sign. As glad as he was that Robbie had made the move, he was not looking forward to telling his former partner in bad behavior that he was cleaning up his act. Jake had not wavered from his convictions that came on the heels of Blake’s death. There would be no drunken partying and no indiscriminate sex.

He stepped from the steamy, hot mid-September afternoon into the dark, cool building. Sure that Robbie already had a table, Jake opened his mouth to tell the hostess he was meeting someone when he saw Robbie sitting on an upholstered bench, aggressively stabbing at the keyboard on his phone—which was odd for the easygoing Scot, Jake’s lack of punctuality aside.

“Sorry I’m late, but—” Jake began.

Robbie looked up and jumped to his feet. “Sparks!” He used Jake’s nickname. “Where’ve you been? We’ve got to go. Glaz wants us.”

Ah, hell. When he’d been their captain, they’d said, “How high and how often?” when Glaz had said, “Jump.” Now that he was one of their coaches, it was bound to get worse.

“What does he want?”

“Do you think I asked?” Robbie started for the door.

Jake looked down at the bag from Crust he carried. “Do you suppose you can put this in the refrigerator for me?” he asked the hostess. “I’ll pick it up later.”

On the ride to the Laurel Springs Ice Center, Jake discovered his two dozen texts and missed calls were divided evenly between Robbie and Glaz. None of them gave any clue why the man wanted to see them.

“You talked to him?” Jake asked.

“Aye. Long enough for him to task me with finding you and—I quote—‘Get your asses to my office immediately. Try to bring your brains as well.’”

“I’ll text him and say we’re on our way.”

Robbie relaxed a bit. “Maybe he’s calling us in to say we’ll be skating first line and make us co-captains.”

Jake laughed. He really had missed his friend. “Sure. Because first-year assistant coaches always get to decide that.”

Robbie echoed Jake’s laughter then let it die.

“How was France? Saw you on The Face Off running through the airport with your auntie. Stupid eejits captioned it ‘Wild-Twin Snares a Cougar?’”

Jake shook his head; that gossip rag wasn’t worth worrying about. “Lots of beach time and cheese eating.” And shopping. Adam and Nicole had returned home to Cottonwood with enough clothes, shoes, and electronics to open a shop on Main Street. Olivia had urged him to stop buying for them, but eventually gave up.

“Not the off season you had in mind,” Robbie said. “I know you wanted to go home.”

“Sometimes going home is just doing what you ought to do,” Jake said, “no matter where you are.” What was important was that when he’d returned Olivia and the kids home, they looked healthier and seemed calmer. Maybe he was, too.

Robbie nodded. “You can go for Christmas.” He sounded wistful.

“I will. And you’ll come with me.” The team wouldn’t have enough time off for Robbie to go to Scotland. Maybe Evie would travel with them, though he’d have to rent a vehicle. There was barely room in his Lamborghini for him and a weekend’s worth of clothes. Maybe he’d buy another car—some kind of SUV.

Robbie brightened. “That would be grand.” He parked and nodded toward the ice center. “If we live that long.”

“Relax,” Jake said. “He probably only wants to say hello. Besides, we haven’t done anything. Lately.”

After a few wrong turns and a few inquiries, they found themselves outside a door with Glaz’s name and title. The big, dark-haired Russian jerked the door open after Jake’s first light tap.

“Ah. The Wild-Ass Twins. You two are late.” He held a framed photograph of his wife and child.

How can we be late when we didn’t have an appointment?Jake wondered but did not ask.

“Sorry,” Robbie said.

“Come in.” Glaz stepped aside and placed the photograph in an open banker’s box on his desk. The office was in a state with boxes against the wall and framed hockey memorabilia and files scattered about. It was hard to tell if he was coming or going. Maybe he was going. Maybe he’d been fired. “Sit.” He gestured to two chairs in front of the desk as he went to sit behind it. Glaz waited until they were seated to let himself down in the fancy leather desk chair. Jake had the impression he’d wanted to tower over them for a bit before getting down to business—whatever that business was.

“Something has happened,” Glaz said. “Something bad. We must speak of it before the media releases it. Drew Kelty was fired.”

“Freaking fuck me!” Robbie burst out.

Glaz gave him a sour look. “Kelty is accused of sexual harassment by former Vultures ice girl. She has video to prove it.”

“Well, shit,” Jake said after a few seconds, because he couldn’t think of anything else.

“It was deserved,” Glaz said. “I call you here to tell you I am new head coach and to develop an understanding between us.”

Head coach? At this level? With no coaching experience? How was that possible? The question must have shown on Jake’s face and Glaz, for whatever reason, decided it was worth addressing. “Interim head coach,” he admitted. “This happened today. They are desperate. I convince the owners I am up for the job—which I am. I will succeed. This team will succeed.”

So Glaz was going—but to a bigger office. Robbie and Jake nodded. “Congratulations,” Robbie said.

Glaz gave a half nod. “I was your teammate. I am now your coach. You must act appropriately.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Jake said. And it wouldn’t. Glaz had always been so far above them in the pecking order, they hadn’t been inclined to pal around. Besides, he had earned their respect. “Coach,” Jake added for emphasis.

“No problem at all,” Robbie agreed. “Coach.”

“Good. We understand each other.” Glaz rose from his chair and came to sit on the edge of the desk in front of them. Was it possible for a man to look more menacing?

“We are about to have scandal. Is no way to begin a season—a team, but we have that. I will have no more.” He leaned forward. “There will be no more Wild-Ass Twins.”

No problem, Glaz. I came here to get away from that. Can’t speak for my friend Robbie.

“You are good players. I am happy to have you here. I intend to keep this job. Interim. Bah! I sometimes wondered what I would do when I was finished playing. But this chance came and I knew was right. We will go to playoffs. You will be instrumental in that, but you will behave.”

Robbie and Jake looked at each other and nodded.

“There will be no public drunken behavior, no standing on tables and spraying people with beer at parties, no urinating in public—”

Robbie burst out, “We never! My mum—”

Glaz put up a hand. “Silence! If I see your pictures on that silly online gossip rag, you had better be visiting sick children in hospital or raising funds for art museum.” Glaz’s nostrils flared and he loomed over them a little closer. All he needed was a ring in his nose to look like a bull about to rampage. “And I swear on the head of Sebastian, Patron Saint of Hockey—”

Glaz paused for effect, or maybe to search for a word in English like he sometimes had to do. Robbie gasped and clasped his hand to his chest over the St. Sebastian medal that Jake knew he wore under his shirt. For a Catholic, swearing on the head of a saint was serious business. For a United Methodist, not so much. Still, Jake believed him.

“I swear,” Glaz repeated, “if you so much as look at an ice girl with a gleam in your eye, you will not set blade on ice. If we do not make the playoffs, if we win not one game, if I am fired and have to open bingo parlor, I will do it before you see one second of game time. Am I clear?”

Very clear. Despite the reference to urinating in public—which they had not done—Glaz knew their past sins well.

“Yes, Coach,” they said simultaneously.

To Jake’s surprise, Glaz smiled easily. “Good!” He stood up and clapped his hands together. “I see you here tomorrow. Now, go. I have things to do and we have a storm to weather.” He laid a hand on each of their shoulders as he ushered them out.

Once a safe distance down the hall, Robbie said, “He meant that.”

“You think?” Jake said.

Robbie grinned. “I guess we’re going to have to be a little more clandestine in our activities with our charming companions.”

And here they were. “About that, Robbie...”

“Yeah?”

“We need to talk. Let’s go back to Hammer Time, get some food, and catch up.”

It was time for the Wild-Ass Twin powers to deactivate.