The Secret Wedding Wish. Cathy Gillen Thacker
Thad pulled out a chair at the white wrought-iron table in the corner. He sank into it and waited for her to do the same. “I know your late husband was Ty Campbell, and that he nearly made the US Olympic ski team.”
Janey shook her head bitterly. “Nearly being the operative word.”
“That’s something to be proud of,” Thad replied, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
Her eyes held such sadness as she sat down. “Being an alternate made my husband miserable.”
“And by association you and Chris,” Thad guessed.
‘That’s right.”
“Fortunately, we’re not meeting to talk about your late husband. We’re here to talk about your son.” He looked at her sincerely. “I’ve got to tell you. I’ve been coaching hockey fifteen years now—and running camps during that time—and I’ve never had a letter like the one he sent me.”
Janey shrugged her slender shoulders. “He’s a resourceful kid.”
“Obviously.” As they both tried to get comfortable in chairs that were more ice-cream-shop-style decorative than utilitarian, their knees bumped. Rubbed. Pulled apart.
Janey dragged her thumb across the lacy scrollwork pattern on the table. “But he doesn’t need to play hockey this summer to be happy.”
Thad studied the defensive posture of her spine. “I don’t think you can make that decision for him.”
“Don’t tell me what I can or cannot do, Coach Lantz!” She jumped up and began to pace the shop, her hips moving provocatively beneath the loose-fitting white cotton baker’s trousers. “Chris is my son. I get to say if he plays hockey or not.”
Thad tried not to think what her legs might look like. Were they as sexy and curvaceous as the rest of her? Struggling to keep his mind on the conversation at hand—instead of where this inherent attraction between them might lead—he turned his glance to her face. “And?” he demanded impatiently, irked with himself for getting sidetracked.
Janey gestured broadly with two delicately shaped hands. “And up until now I’ve allowed it.”
“Because?” Thad prodded, curious as to whether her hands would feel as soft and silky as they looked, despite the fact she worked with them all day.
Janey folded her arms in front of her and regarded Thad stubbornly. “It wasn’t skiing, or worse, the avalanche-skiing that led to his own father’s death. Somehow hockey seemed a safer path—psychologically—to follow. But now it’s becoming an obsession,” she said worriedly.
Thad stood and closed the distance between them. “Maybe he’s meant to go pro, like his uncle Joe.”
“And maybe he’s not. Maybe Joe’s success has fueled Chris with false expectations and unrealistic dreams.”
“So you’re going to do what?” Thad queried in a dry tone meant to make her come to her senses and see how foolish she was being. “Deny him the opportunity to try?”
Janey gave him a measuring look. “Joe left home at sixteen. Did you know that?”
Thad was close enough to smell the deliciously sweet fragrance of vanilla and confectioner’s sugar clinging to her hair and skin. “To play in the junior league up in Canada.”
“Right. Mom wanted him to go to college and play there, if he wanted, on a university team. But Joe couldn’t wait, so he did terrible in all his high-school classes and he begged and pleaded until Mom finally gave in.”
“Not unlike most pro hockey players, I imagine. It’s in their blood. And in their hearts.”
“Which is fine, if they make it to the big time,” she said, desperation in her eyes. “But if they don’t. If they spend years chasing a certain vision and their dream never comes true, they become disillusioned and bitter.”
“Not always,” Thad disagreed. “Sometimes they become coaches.”
Her lips parted as she looked up at him. “You—?”
“Tried to go pro. Didn’t have the speed. So I took another path.”
She leaned back against the display counter, her elbows propped high on either side of her. “You’re the exception, not the rule.”
Thad shrugged and tried not to notice how nice she looked in profile. “Chris seems pretty exceptional, too.”
Janey turned her head to face him. “I’m not going to let him play hockey this summer.”
“Your son has already lost a father,” he reminded her calmly.
Janey stiffened, and swung all the way around to face him. “So?” She squared off with him deliberately.
“So you don’t think it’d do him good to be around a lot of positive male role models?”
She shrugged and assumed a look of extreme boredom. “Who also happen to play hockey for a living.”
She was making a dig at his profession, too, but he refused to take the bait. “They’re good guys. They share a common interest with Chris. And at his age, he needs to go out and mix it up a little bit, burn off some of that excess physical energy in a healthy, positive way.”
Janey glared at Thad. “He does plenty of guy stuff as it is,” she protested hotly.
“Such as?” Thad taunted softly, knowing if the subject weren’t so serious he would really be tempted to seize upon the fireworks building between them and kiss her.
“Camping.” As soon as the word was out of her mouth, Janey looked like she regretted it.
Which perversely made Thad want to take her in his arms all the more.
“You take him camping?” Thad ascertained, knowing bluster when he saw it, even if she didn’t realize it.
“I’m going to this very weekend, as it happens,” Janey boasted, looking determined to prove Thad and all five of her brothers wrong.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Thad thought.
“You’ll see,” she promised smugly, determination sparking in her pretty eyes. “This trip alone will provide Chris with all the summer adventure and physical challenge a boy his age needs.”
“AH, PLEASE. She’s not going to take him camping,” Joe Hart snorted, as the waitress set down a pitcher of beer and a bucket of peanuts in the center of their table. Thad filled Janey’s brothers in on the rest of his conversation with their headstrong sister. “The Great Outdoors isn’t Janey’s thing, never has been,” Joe concluded.
Thad sipped his beer. “Well, she says they’re going.”
Looking as at home in the bar as he did commentating sports events on TV, Dylan Hart tipped lazily back in his chair. “Did she say where?”
Thad nodded. “Lake Pine.” It was a state recreation area, an hour or so away.
Mac Hart frowned and rubbed a hand across his chest. “The trail around the lake is easy enough, but it can be pretty miserable physically this time of year. Hot, muggy, uncomfortable.”
Fletcher Hart agreed. “Not to mention all the mosquitoes and chiggers.” He shook his head. “Hope she remembers the insect repellent or they’ll both be eaten alive.”
Cal took a sip of beer. “Isn’t it supposed to rain tomorrow?” he asked as he broke open another roasted shell and dug out the peanuts inside. “Sunday, too?”
Joe scowled, obviously still as peeved as Thad at the way Janey refused to support her son’s athletic ambition. “Maybe that’s what she needs, a little bad experience at Lake Pine to make her feel that a few turns around a hockey rink aren’t such a bad deal