Lucky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series Book 6)
Chapter 12

Surprisingly, the drive over to Scallywag’s was enjoyable.

Whatever radio station Seven turned on played all the right tunes that spoke to my soul.

The Eagles- Hotel California

The Beach Boys – Kokomo

The Beatles – Here Comes The Sun

Being in the passenger side of a topless jeep blasting old sixties hits while we drive along the beach is the first time since I got here that I feel like I’m on vacation.

And Seven even made a joke… a dirty one.

Seven pulls up to a two-story building, and we’re lucky to replace a parking spot right up front since the place looks like it is booming with customers.

I look up at the stucco façade painted a lively yellow and see the large lettering spelling out Scallywag’s on the side of the building with the same cartoon dog logo that was on the back of Seven’s shirt days ago.

A balcony on the second story has gorgeous pink and purple potted plants with flowery vines that cascade down the balcony and the sides of the building, bringing it all to life.

It feels bright and lively.

Whoever owns this place has obviously put a lot of love and care into it. There’s so much pride of ownership.

“We’re here,” he says, then puts the jeep in park and kills the engine.

I can already smell whatever they’re cooking in the kitchen, and it smells delicious.

“It smells good already.”

“The chef is impressive. You can’t go wrong with anything on the menu.”

Seven and I both exit the jeep, though I do it carefully so that I don’t twist an ankle when I jump down.

I reach into the back, grab my laptop bag from the back seat, and then walk around to the front of the jeep.

Seven stands there with his keys in one hand and his other tucked in his pocket. He waited for me.

He didn’t technically have to wait, but it was a nice gesture, considering I can never tell if he wishes I’d just vanish one day and never return.

“You said that your neighbor owns this place, right?”

“Yeah, Rita. She and her husband have owned it for nearly twenty years. He passed away a couple of years ago, but she still runs it.”

My heart breaks immediately for her.

How awful.

I follow behind him on the narrow walkway that leads along the front of the building.

When we get a little closer, I see a sandwich board parked in front of the door.

WE’RE OPEN!!!

Neighborhood Breakfast

Everyone is welcome!

Kids eat for free.

If you can’t pay, come in anyway.

If you have extra to spare,

consider sponsoring a meal ticket!

Just by looking at the sign, I know I’m going to like Rita.

Seven looks at me as we pass by the sign.

“Rita is sort of like everyone’s favorite aunt around here. She does a lot for the community. She’s offering free and discounted meals for everyone while people try to get back on their feet after the storm. We got lucky, but not everyone did.”

“And you’re here to make sure that any repairs Rita needs are done so that this place can run smoothly and take care of the community that you live in,” I say.

It’s not a question.

“Something like that,” he says.

Then he reaches for the front door and opens it for me, letting me walk in first.

I’m already starting to see that Seven is a fixer.

It’s how he shows he cares since verbal communication seems to be limited with him.

In a matter of seconds, I’m starting to understand him more than I have over the last few days.

Walking into the restaurant, I should have been prepared for how packed it would be since the parking lot was full.

The lobby is standing room only while people wait to be seated.

“Sev! Honey, you’re here! Thank God,” I hear a woman’s booming southern drawl before I see her.

A small older woman in her mid-to-late seventies weaves through the crowd as they all part for her to come through.

She’s no bigger than five-foot-one, but I can already tell that her personality makes up for the whole foot-and-a-quarter-size difference between these two.

I watch as Seven crouches down a little, and the woman wraps her arms around Seven’s waist.

“You call, and I come running,” he says with a smile, and I think my heart just erupted in my chest.

I’ve never seen that smile before, and I doubt very many people have, which is a shame because it’s really beautiful.

‘I have someone for you to meet,’ Seven continues.

Seven turns to me, but before he can introduce me to the woman I assume is his neighbor, Rita, she releases Seven and quickly pulls me into an embrace.

“Sev, you didn’t tell me your roommate is a knockout. No wonder you wanted to keep her all to yourself.”

I can feel my cheek warm into a blush and Seven stutters something as if he’s going to object to what she just said. Then she cackles and puts one hand in each of ours, pulling us forward.

“Come on. Let’s get you two kids fed.”

I look over at Seven, and I see him bite down on his lower lip for a second. He shakes his head at the woman we’re following but he keeps his attention forward and doesn’t meet my eyes.

Walking Rita pull Seven through the restaurant is like watching a toddler pull the lead rope on a Budweiser Clydesdale.

And the fact that he goes along with it without complaint makes me like him all the more.

Rita leads us to a small booth that’s perfectly built for a party of two but not much more.

“How about this?” she asks. ‘It’s the only thing I have available at the moment.’

Seven looks to me instead of her.

“Is this enough room for you to write?”

I nod enthusiastically.

Rita just let us cut at least forty people. Even if there wasn’t enough room, I’d make it work.

“We’re a little short-staffed for the crowd. I underestimated how many people need a warm meal today. I’m going to take your order now if you know what you would like so that you’re not waiting for over an hour,” she says.

“How about whatever Miguel wants to make us? Tell him to make whatever is easy and that takes the least amount of effort,’ Seven tells her.

Then his eyes shift to mine. ‘Is that okay?’

“I trust you,” I tell him.

He looks back at Rita. “I’ll get us bottled water from the back. You don’t need to.”

“You’re a lifesaver; thanks for coming. I’ll get you chips and dip,” she says, about to rush off.

“Don’t worry about that either. I’ll take care of it. We’ll be fine, just take care of your customers,” Seven says, pushing out of the booth to retrieve the items he just mentioned.

She pats him on the shoulder and then scurries off to the next thing.

“Do you want chips and salsa? It might be a while before we get our food.”

“Sure, if it isn’t any trouble.”

“No trouble. I’ll be right back.”

Seven walks off, weaving through the crowds of people, and I take the time to start pulling out my laptop. I glance under the table, and I’m in luck that there’s a plug-in outlet under the table, and it takes my kind of plug-in.

I ordered an adapter online before I left the States just in case I’d need one but I’ve been lucky so far.

A few minutes later, Seven comes back with bottles of water and a basket of chips and dip.

He sets it all down on the table, but he doesn’t sit down.

I grab a chip from the basket and dip it into the salsa.

‘Whoa. I think that’s the best salsa I’ve ever had. Is that Mango I taste too?’

Seven grabs a chip, dips it into the salsa, and tosses the entire chip in his mouth. He chews for a second, like he’s trying to taste the mango.

‘Probably. Miguel is an incredible chef. He makes everything from scratch, and he likes to change it up.’

‘You’re not kidding,’ I say, going in for another chip.

“I’m going to check on the generator while we wait for our food. It might be a while before Miguel gets to our ticket, and I don’t want him to lose power while he’s trying to get everyone fed. Will you be ok by yourself?”

“Yep, I’m all set. I can write while I wait.’

Even if I had nothing to do, I would understand. I invited myself on this excursion, and everyone but me is pitching in to help the people who still have no power… or worse.

“I’ll be back in a little while. Hopefully, it’s an easy fix.”

Then he turns to leave, and I watch him head for the front door.

I reach down, plug in my laptop, and then set it on the table to start working.

In the last few days, I’ve completed several chapters, and Sheridan is really happy with my progress. However, I need to keep up my momentum if I want to finish this book by the deadline.

I push the power button on my laptop and wait for it to load. While I wait, something catches my eye. I look over to replace Seven talking with one of the hostesses.

He hands her what looks like a credit card, and she nods and walks over to the cash register.

A minute later, she walks back over to him and hands him his card. He puts it back in his wallet and then walks back out of the front door.

I watch as ticket after ticket starts to print from her computer. I keep my attention on her as the printer finally finishes, and she takes a large wad of tickets and starts pinning them to the corkboard, where people who don’t have money can take a ticket to pay for their meal.

The hostess probably pins up fifty tickets, and the stack doesn’t seem to dwindle in the least. Since everyone inside the restaurant is busy eating or visiting, I think I’m the only one who saw it.

Seven just bought all of those meals and acted like it was no big deal.

I have to admit, with everything Seven is doing to help out, I’m feeling like his worthless counterpart.

A family of five stands up and vacates a table near me. With only four waiting staff, a single busboy, and one hostess in this restaurant, I see my opening to jump in and help.

Seven

My phone dings with an incoming text just as I finish fixing the generator and get it back up and running.  It had some old gasoline and needed a new spark plug, and now it’s humming along.

Cammy: My flight is showing online that it’s still departing tomorrow. Is it still ok if I come?

Seven: We don’t have power right now but the generator is running and the house is still standing.

Cammy: Who needs electricity anyway? Hugely overrated.

Cammy: Please tell me that the boat survived.

It figures that Cammy cares more about the boat than electricity or running water. When she comes to visit, I can barely keep her off the damn thing. She’d go out fishing on the boat everyday if I let her.

She likes the peace and quiet of being out on the ocean as much as I do. It’s something that we have in common.

Seven: The boat survived out in the bay. I’ll ask them to pull the anchor and bring it back to the marina tomorrow. The water is still a little rough right now. We should give it another day before we go out.

Cammy: Your sense of adventure is astoundingly underwhelming. Are you sure we’re related?

Sarcasm… yet another thing we have in common.

Seven: Looking forward to it kiddo. Let me know if your flight is delayed; otherwise, I’ll be at the airport at three to pick you up.

Cammy: Can’t wait. See you soon!

I check the time on my phone before pushing it back into my pocket.

It’s been a little over an hour since I left Brynn in the restaurant to come out and see what I could do.

I’m not a mechanic, but I learned how to do a few things growing up with a dad who owns a farm equipment sales and mechanic shop in Minnesota.

My dad is one of the handiest people I’ve ever met. He can fix anything, and my mom is one of the hardest working. He handled the mechanic shop while my mom managed the office and the equipment salesman on the other side of the shop.

I heard they finally sold the business to retire last year, but that’s just the information I got from Cammy since I haven’t talked to my dad since I came home one Christmas during my rookie year to replace out that Josslin still wanted to marry a Wrenley brother… just not me.

My older brother Eli came home on an honorary discharge from the Marines after suffering from an incident overseas that caused him to almost lose a leg. His battalion lost two men that day, one of whom had been my brother’s best friend since elementary school.

When my fiancé decided to make a brother swap, Eli was facing a long road of recovery and crippling PTSD, so naturally, my family rallied around him, and that was my plan, too. Right up until he decided that Josslin was part of his recovery plan.

My parents begged me to let it go.

“He needs Josslin more than you do right now,” my mother pleaded.

“I’m not happy about how they handled this son, but the most important thing we can do is focus on Eli’s recovery. He’s lost so much already, and your life is just getting started. You’ll replace someone else,” my dad tried to reason.

I guess I’m the asshole for not understanding how sleeping with my fiancé behind my back, in the house I bought her for our future together, was his only solution for recovery.

I left on Christmas morning, and I’ve never been back.

My mom calls every couple of months, though I don’t take her calls except on her birthday once a year. Some habits are hard to break, and as much as I resent my family for taking my brother’s side, my dad raised me with a strong sense of honoring the woman who gave me life, so she gets her token call on her birthday.

My dad, on the other hand, stopped trying after a few years of attempting to reconnect with no luck.

He texted me last year on the night that we lost the Stanley Cup game and told me that I still played a good game and that he was proud of me. It was the first correspondence in over fifteen years, and it told me something I didn’t know—my dad still watches my games.

I didn’t respond.

Eighteen years might seem long enough to let go of a grudge, but I believe loyalty should be matched.

I only have as much for you as you have for me.

It’s part of the reason I’ve stayed in the NHL for so long. I could have retired years ago, but the locker room is a place that shares my outlook on loyalty. We look out for one another. And if you ever replace yourself on a team where the players believe that it’s every man for himself, they’re usually upfront about it, or you replace out quickly who you can trust and who you can’t.

Walking back into the restaurant, I glance over at the table in the corner, where I expect to replace Brynn typing away on her book.

I see our food has been delivered, and her laptop is up, but nothing on her plate looks touched.

Searching the restaurant and bar, I see no sign of her.

I walk over to Marie, the hostess.

“Have you seen the woman I walked in with?”

She looks up from the receipts she’s adding together from the morning rush, which has died down a little.

“Oh, Brynn?” she asks with a bright smile, as if I just brought up her favorite subject.

“Yeah. She’s not at our table,” I say, pointing to the empty booth in the far back corner.

Marie looks around the restaurant quickly and then turns back to me.

“I bet she just took a tray of dirty dishes to the kitchen for the busboy to wash. I’m sure she’ll be right back out. She moves quickly.”

“What? Why would she be taking dirty dishes back?”

Marie turns back to her calculator and receipts.

“Because she’s been bussing tables ever since you left so that the busboy could focus on keeping the dishwasher going. She’s been a Godsend. I don’t know what we would have done without her,” she says, her fingers typing up receipt after receipt.

“Rita asked her to help out?”

“Oh no… you know Rita would never do that. Brynn just jumped up and started busing tables. Rita told her that she didn’t need to but Brynn said that she’d rather be helpful and that she wanted to wait to eat with you anyway,” Marie glances up at me quickly and then looks over her shoulder just in time to see Brynn walking briskly out of the kitchen with an empty black busing bin and a wet tablecloth in her hand. “She’s a real sweetheart. I’m glad you finally found a great girl to settle down with. I was beginning to worry.”

A great girl to settle down with.

Where did she come up with that?

“We’re not together. She’s just staying with me for a few days until Silas can get her a room.”

“Really?” she asks with a lifted brow as if she doesn’t believe me.

“I swear. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Well, that’s disappointing, to say the least.”

“Why do you care if I’m dating Brynn or not?”

“Because she’s the kind of person that helps out a group of total strangers without being asked and has no motivation to do it except that she’s a good person. She matches your energy perfectly. And now I can tell you’re going to let her walk away, aren’t you?”

“Marie… I barely know her—”

Marie cuts me off with a tsking sound.

“Figures. You big dumb man. Buy a clue with all that money you have sitting in the bank, will you?”

She turns back to her work, and I can see that the conversation is over.

Marie and I have never shared anything besides kind words with one another since the day I walked into Scallywag’s years ago. She usually lets Rita, Bart, or Silas read me the riot act within the walls of this establishment.

She and Miguel usually stay neutral, so I’m surprised to see that Marie’s facial expression shows that she’s genuinely disappointed that Brynn and I aren’t dating.

I take a second to think over everything Marie just told me. About how Brynn wanted to wait to eat with me and how she jumped in without being asked to help out since the staff wasn’t expecting this kind of turnout.

I stare out towards the woman in the yellow sundress, watching her weave in and out of tables, wiping a couple down with her dish rag as she goes.

She smiles and waves at a family that just finished eating and is getting up from their table to leave.

I still don’t know very much about Brynn, but the more time I spend around her, the more I’m beginning to think that she’s different from anyone I’ve ever met.

I make a beeline for the romance author, who’s pilling up dishes from the table that just left.

“I’m done. Are you ready to eat?” I ask.

She glances over her shoulder at me for a second and then back at the table.

“I still need to—”

“Yep, she’s ready and all yours,” Rita says, coming up from the right side of me, cutting off Brynn’s words.

“Just as soon as I finish this last table,” Brynn says, kneeling on the wooden bench of the booth to reach further in to grab plates.

“I’ve got it from here. You’ve done plenty, and we’re finally caught up with guests. Go sit down and eat your food.”

Rita isn’t asking at this point.

It’s now a demand.

I see Rita wave over to the busboy to help. Then she elbows her way to push Brynn to the side as the busboy and Rita start taking over.

“Go sit. That’s an order,” she tells Brynn. “Do you want me to ask Miguel to remake your food? It’s probably cold by now.”

“Oh no… he just finally got caught up in the back and needs to take his break,” Brynn says quickly. “We’re fine, right?” she asks, looking up at me.

I stare down at Brynn’s beautiful blue eyes, practically pleading with me not to send the food back so that Miguel can have a break. I hadn’t considered sending the food back anyway, but Brynn’s concern for Miguel doesn’t go unnoticed by me.

“We’ll be fine. Thanks, though,” I confirm to Rita.

Brynn smiles up at me and then turns around and heads for our table. I follow, trying not to watch the way the hem of her mini-dress swishes high against her thighs.

She scoots in on her side, and then I do on the other side.

“Are we going to stay for the lunch rush?” she asks.

“There’s a lot of repairs I can do if you want to stay.”

“Can we? I think they could really use me.’

And that’s the moment that confirms it.

Brynn isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before.

Now the question is… what am I going to do with that information?