After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Chase
After meeting with Tobias, I head home and send a vague text message to Spencer. Then I head to the kitchen to prep for dinner. I'm tempted to order takeout, but I need something to keep myself busy until she arrives. Without something to do, I'll pace the kitchen and stare at the contract.
From the drawer next to the fridge, I grab my laptop and iPad, setting both on the island. On the iPad, I bring up the Apple TV app and go to my downloads. Whenever I'm cooking, I like background noise. And because there are no hockey games to stream, I decide to re-watch Lord of the Rings. The trilogy is my go-to for comfort movies. I could only be allowed to watch them for the rest of my life and I'd be content.
Once the movie is playing, I scroll through Pinterest on my laptop, searching for a recipe. My fridge is stocked well, but every recipe looks so damn good I can't make up my mind. Eventually, I decide on carbonara pasta with pancetta, peas, and onions. Along with a fresh arugula salad and some garlic bread.
With the movie playing in the background, I'm able to slip into a mode of consciousness that doesn't involve thinking about the contract. If I'm not chopping vegetables for the salad, then I'm checking on the pasta and the simmering pancetta, peas, and onions.
By the time Spencer arrives, I'm coating the noodles in the eggs and adding pecorino cheese and parmesan cheese. She lets herself into the house and greets me with a kiss on the cheek. "Hey. What's going on? That discreet text message was... I'm curious." She pauses and locks her arms around my neck, resting her chin on my shoulder. This is one reason I love her being so tall. "Oooh, are you making pasta? Pasta's my favourite." She looks at the food, noting the ingredients. "Shit, you're making carbonara. I love carbonara."
"Good," I smile, leaning into her. Her citrusy perfume fills my nostrils. "Because I can't eat all of this on my own."
Spencer snorts. "I could. And I bet you could too. Don't lie to me." She slips her hand beneath my shirt and prods my stomach muscles with her fingertips. Her touch makes my skin burn. "Lennon's right. You're jacked. Again."
The West Twins are exaggerating. Since I made the decision, I have toned my muscles and lost some weight, replacing it with more muscle. I remember how strenuous the workout schedule is for hockey players. If I'm to meet the requirements, then I need to adjust to a new routine. If I don't, training to the same degree Lennon does will make me puke on the ice. Which is something I don't want to do. My work is definitely paying off. That being said, I wouldn't consider myself jacked.
"Can I do anything to help?
I shake my head. "Everything's done food-wise. But you could grab a couple of bowls and some forks? Just leave them on the island and I'll dish us up."
She kisses my cheek again and her hands leaves my stomach. There's a powerful urge to grab her wrists and put her hands back. "Sounds good."
While she's gathering the bowls and cutlery, I give the noodles another few stirs. Then I fill our bowls with the pasta, topping it off with the arugula salad. It's coated with a champagne vinegar dressing and some thinly pickled red onions. I saw a chef on the Food Network do something like this, using the salad to cut the richness of the pasta. I hope it tastes as good as it looked.
