Chapter 13: Home Game: Chapter 13

KRISTA HAD TEXTED that she would wait with Zoey so I could meet up with them and drive Zoey home.

I was packing my bag when one of the guys came up to me. Mike. No Mica.

“Hey man, good game,” he spoke with a thick Russian accent.

“Thanks, you too.”

He looked shame-faced. “Sorry we haven’t talked.”

I shrugged. “No worries. Lots of changes around here.”

He cleared his throat. “So, is Frank your accountant?”

“Yeah.”

“I was working on my expenses. And Frank said I should talk to you.”

“About?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and squinted at me. “Do you do your expenses yourself? Or is there someone you hired?”

“Why?”

“I thought I could hire them too.”

“I hired a friend, but she isn’t cheap.” I lied.

He shook his head. “I don’t care. I’ll pay anything to get Frank off my ass.”

“$400.” I tossed my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll ask her. You pay in cash. And you bring your laptop to her.”

“Yeah. Whatever it takes.”

I studied him. He seemed like a decent guy. “Okay. I’ll text you.”

He slapped my shoulder. “Thanks buddy. I owe you.”

I FOUND Zoey and Krista standing outside of the family room in the hallway.

“Hey, are you wearing my jersey?” I stood back and admired the way the jersey looked on Zoey.

She shrugged, but there was a smile on her face. “You played really well in the second and third period.”

“What about the first?”

She thought about her answer. “You were doing okay but the rest of your team seemed confused.”

Laughter ripped out of me.

We dropped Zoey off at the SUV, and then I walked Krista to her car.

“Do you think she liked the game?”

“She loved the game. She tossed an extra-large bin of popcorn in the air when you scored. She screamed until her voice was raw and then she asked the dude next to her to teach her how to whistle.”

“No shit.”

“He taught her too. I’m not sure I can hear out of my left ear.”

“Nice.”

She unlocked her door. “So, Zoey said you bought a bed for your guest room.”

“I needed one.”

“Does that mean you will unpack some of your boxes?”

“Don’t talk crazy.”

“You played good tonight.”

“Thanks.”

“What about Zoey?”

“What about her?”

She shrugged. “Is this a permanent thing?”

I swallowed. “We’re just trying to get her on her feet.”

Krista stepped up and jabbed me hard in the chest. “You need to take care of her, because if you don’t, I swear to God, I’ll disown you.”

ZOEY WAITED PATIENTLY in the SUV. I glanced at her as I got in beside her. What was it about her that made me want to slash every dragon for a hundred miles? It baffled me. She didn’t expect it. Maybe that was why? She was just valiantly always trying to handle things on her own.

“So, how did you like the game?”

“It was good.”

I glanced over at her. Blue eyes studied me back.

“What’s that look for?”

“Why doesn’t your team like you?”

Shock. “What?”

“Nothing.”

I glanced over at her again. She stared out the passenger window. “Zoey.”

“I thought you knew. Sorry I said anything.”

“Did Krista say something?”

“No.”

“So why do you think my team doesn’t like me?”

Pause. “They all slap each other and cheer each other on. When you score, they barely acknowledge you.”

My gut twisted. “Was it that obvious?”

She turned to face me. “I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

Her honesty astonished me. “I don’t feel bad. I’m just surprised you noticed.”

“Did you do something?”

“Not to them.”

“But you did something.”

“It’s a long story.”

She studied me. “What are you going to do about it?”

I pinched my nose. “Krista thinks I need to have a party.”

Blue eyes stared at me. I wanted to ask what she was thinking, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Time to change the subject. “So there is a guy on my team who asked if you could help him.”

“For what?”

“He needs help with entering his receipts for our accountant, Frank.”

“Sure.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I told him you charged $400, and he had to provide a laptop and bring it to you.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Four hundred dollars?”

“You game?”

“Yes! When can I do it?”

“I told him I would text him.”

She looked almost frantic. “Pull over here. Text him right now.”

I laughed. “Come on.”

“Please?”

I passed her my phone. Someone had loaded the whole team’s contacts into my phone when I arrived. “His name is Mica.”

Her eyes were wide, but she took the phone. And started texting.

Five more blocks and she was still texting. Then she laughed.

Mica-fucking-Petrov was making Zoey laugh. “What’s going on there?”

“Nothing,” she said, barely glancing up. “He said he can come over tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Four more blocks of texting. I looked at her bent over my phone. She was biting her lips and then she fucking giggled again.

She glanced up. “Almost done.”

I had this urge to rip the phone from her and toss it out the window. “Take your time.”

She texted a bit more and then put the phone down. “Thank you.”

WHEN WE GOT INSIDE, she disappeared into the bathroom. As soon as she was out of sight, I picked up my phone.

Zoey: Hi Mica. This is Zoey using Ryan’s phone. He said you needed help with your expenses?

Mica: Hey Zoey. You’ve no idea. I’m drowning in receipts and you’re my last hope.

Zoey: I can help. When does it suit you?

Mica: Tomorrow?

Zoey: I’m helping build IKEA furniture tomorrow!

Mica: Ryan didn’t tell me that you were multi-talented.

Zoey: I only have one working arm.

Mica: :-/

Zoey: Sprained shoulder.

Mica: You’re building IKEA furniture with one arm? You’re either crazy or you’re a genius.

Zoey: Ryan will do most of the heavy lifting

Mica: So, want me to come by in the late afternoon?

Zoey: I think we’ll be done.

Mica: You understand expenses and you build IKEA furniture with one arm. I can’t wait to meet you

Zoey: LOL

Mica: Where do you live?

Zoey: I’m staying with Ryan for a few days. Do you know where he lives?

Mica: Is that why you are using his phone?

Zoey: I don’t have a phone.

Mica: That’s cool. So, can you text me his address?

Zoey: 2 and Cook Street. It’s a big brown brick building. Apartment 1609. Can you bring your laptop?nd

Mica: I’m on it. See you tomorrow.

I put my phone down on the island unsure how I felt about Mica chatting up Zoey. I read through the texts again. It was innocent enough, not like he had sent her a dick pic, but it was unsettling.

I ran my hand through my hair. I didn’t like my train of thought. It had been a long day. I needed to get some sleep.

I WOKE up to the sound of male voices. I pulled on a pair of sweats and yanked open the bedroom door. Two guys in coveralls, were carefully setting down a box in the living room. Behind that, there was a stack of boxes. I looked behind me. Zoey stood in the kitchen, studying the invoice.

“Morning.’

She glanced up at me, taking in my bare stomach and she looked away quickly. “Coffee is on if you want one.”

“You made coffee?” I asked, walking behind her. I leaned over her shoulder. “What are you reading?”

She visibly stiffened. “Just the invoice.”

I poured a cup of coffee and studied her. “Exactly how much furniture did we buy?”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “If it’s too much, we can send it back.”

Zoey blushing. Interesting. “After all the work you did yesterday? Not a chance.”

She turned a brighter pink. “So, whenever you’re ready to build, I’m good to go.”

AN HOUR LATER, I ripped open a box, tossing the instructions behind my back.

“What are you doing?” Zoey looked shocked.

“I grew up on a farm. We don’t use instructions.”

Zoey gave me a look before she picked up the instructions and started to read.

Five minutes later, I sat in a sea of boards, screws, and other pieces and I had to admit I was in way over my head. It was like a random, furniture jigsaw puzzle, with no rhyme or reason.

“Ready for some instructions?” Zoey waved the sheet over her head.

“Guys don’t read instructions,” I reiterated.

“No, the girls do and then we tell you what to do,” she crouched beside me. “Put these two pieces together and use this screw in these holes.

“Give me that,” I tried to grab the instructions.

She solemnly shook her head. “Let’s just establish that you’re the brawn and I’m the brains in this operation.”

I laughed. “Only because you have a sore arm.”

Zoey’s team player skills intrigued me. She had great communication skills, was clear in what she needed, quick to provide her help, and kept it light by joking around.

Before long, we had one 8-drawer navy dresser built. Zoey inspected it carefully, opened drawers and tested how everything rolled open and shut. I sat back and watched her.

A huge smile broke out over her face. “It’s perfect.”

Satisfaction shot through me. “You like it?”

“You’re good at this.”

I ripped open another box and passed her the instructions. She hunkered down beside me and studied the instructions. A knock sounded. Zoey and I exchanged looks.

When I swung open the door, there stood Mica, holding a case of beer, a plastic Safeway bag full of receipts and a laptop.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he grinned at me. “Is Zoey here?”

“It’s for you, Zoey,” I called over my shoulder, irony in my tone.

Mica looked around the empty space and then Zoey was skidding up to us. She stared up at Mica, her eyes wide.

Mica smiled down at her and offered to shake her hand. “I’m Mica. You must be Zoey.”

“I am.”

“I know you said to show up later in the afternoon, but I thought you guys might want another set of hands to help build that IKEA furniture since you mentioned you only had one working arm.” He was speaking to her, but he glanced up at me. I grew up with guys and I instantly recognized the peace offering.

I glanced down at Zoey. “Can you handle bossing two of us around?”

Zoey turned pink. “I probably can manage.”

Mica handed me a beer, took one himself, and settled down on the floor beside me. Zoey sorted through all the nuts and bolts, told us what to do, and how to do it. We worked silently for a while, and then Mica started to talk.

“So Zoey, are you from Vancouver?”

“Yes.”

“So, how did you get suckered into helping Ryan put together his furniture?”

She glanced at me. “Ryan asked me to help him.”

“Oh really. Are you an interior designer?”

She snorted. “No.”

I sat back, listening. Mica was a big, rough-looking defense-man, but he was doing his best to put Zoey at ease. At first, it was like watching him pull teeth trying to extract any information from her, but he was patient and gentle. I felt myself relax when he got her laughing and taking easy shots at him.

“So, how long have you guys been dating?” Mica asked Zoey, a teasing look on his face.

Zoey ducked her head. Her response was emphatic. “We’re not dating. That’s crazy.”

“Crazy?” he smiled up at me. “Yeah, any chick would be crazy to date Ryan. I mean, look at him.”

“It’s not that,” she started. Her face was bright pink. “We’re just…”

“Friends,” I finished.

“Yeah,” she said, dropping her eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Mica asked with interest.

Not going to happen, buddy. I pinned my gaze with his. He grinned back.

He pulled his phone out to read a text.

He looked at me with curiosity. “So, Dylan and Justin are wondering if we want to watch the game with them.”

Guys from the team, willing to hang with me. I had no idea why this miracle was happening, but I wasn’t about to squander my chances. “Yeah, all are welcome.”

“You got a grill?”

“Yup.”

More texting. “They will bring over steaks. Zoey, you like steak?”

Her smile was huge. “It’s okay.”

WE WORKED TOGETHER and finished building all the furniture. Mica and I carried everything into the spare bedroom under Zoey’s careful supervision. Then Mica logged Zoey into his computer. She sat at the island and typed with her one good hand.

“You need help?” he offered.

She shook her head. “I should probably do this myself, if you’re paying me to do it.”

He looked down at her, reminding me of an adoring big dog watching a tiny kitten. “I don’t mind. Want me to read the receipts to you?”

She shrugged. “If you want.”

I stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping my beer and watching them work. Dylan and Justin showed up, carrying four grocery bags and another case of beer. The guys were chill, standing in the kitchen, discussing sports, while Mica and Zoey finished up.

“You for hire, Zoey?” Dylan asked.

Zoey looked up at him. “Maybe.”

“If I bring my laptop to practice tomorrow, you think you can do my receipts?”

Zoey’s wide eyes met mine. “Uh, sure.”