Kiss and Don’t Tell
: Chapter 7

“Where’s your friend?” Taters asks, taking a seat on the lounger next to mine.

“She’s not my friend, she’s just . . . a guest.”

“Whatever you want to call her, where is she?”

“Not sure.” I take my hat off my head and place it over my face, blocking the peekaboo sun. It was sunny this morning, but clouds for the storm we’re expecting later have been steadily gathering. But even though there’s some cloud coverage, it’s still nice out, and I’m trying to soak up as much sun as I can get when it comes out from behind the clouds.

“You don’t know where she is? I thought you were her gatekeeper.”

“Can you not be a dick?” I ask. “I offered your house as a place to stay because she had nowhere else to go. If you didn’t have your head so far up your ass, you probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“My head is not up my ass,” Taters defends.

“Dude, you know I care about you and I always tell it to you like it is because that’s what brothers do, so I’m going to tell it to you like it is. You’ve been an ass ever since Sarah broke up with you. And I get it, you’ve been together since high school, and that’s hard, but you’re not letting us help you. You’re bottling it up and then taking it out on everyone.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to talk about it. Ever think about that?” He drops his sunglasses over his eyes and leans back in the lounger.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to talk about my injury, but you still made me.”

“Because I needed your head in the game. The way you played affected my game. Can’t have my goalie afraid of a damn puck.”

“I’m not afraid of the puck,” I shout, and then realizing how worked up I am, I calm myself. More quietly, I repeat, “I’m not afraid of the puck, and if you don’t think your breakup with Sarah affected the team, then you’re in denial.”

“Fuck you. You know I leave that shit off the ice. When I step onto the rink, nothing else passes through my mind but hockey.”

“You made mistakes this postseason that you never would’ve made before. You let players get by you, you missed shots. You let guys take you out that never even would’ve had a chance before.”

Taters lifts up and says, “Are you blaming the loss on me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No,” I huff out. “We all had a part in losing. But what I’m saying is you’re not addressing what happened, and without addressing it, you’re never going to get over it.”

“The only way I’m going to get over it is by getting under someone else.”

“You know you don’t want to do that,” I say. Taters might put on a show, but he’s as loyal as they come. He loved Sarah. Fucking infatuated with the girl. They grew up through the system together. They’d been each other’s backbones. Taters is the man he is today because of her. He’s not the type of guy who can write off one girl with another. He doesn’t work that way. Not sure any of us do. Hornsby maybe, but I think that’s because he’s emotionless inside. He’s a solid dude, but when it comes to actual feelings, his own feelings, I’m not sure he’s in tune with those.

“I’m a new man,” he says. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing what you really want is to not be here with us but to be back in Vancouver trying to make up with Sarah.”

Taters shakes his head. “She made it known she doesn’t want me anymore. So, I’m going to respect her wishes. Why go after someone who doesn’t want me?”

“And why doesn’t she want you?”

“Not talking about it,” he says. “That’s not why I came out here.”

“Okay, then why did you come out here?”

“Your friend—”

“Winnie. She has a name.”

“Well, Winnie hasn’t said ‘thank you’ to me yet.”

Jesus Christ.

“Probably because she’s terrified of you. Ever think of that? Also, I don’t think she’s left her room all day because she doesn’t want to be a nuisance. She doesn’t want to bother us.”

“It bothers me more knowing she’s here but not here.”

“You’re impossible, you realize that?” I stand from my lounger because I’m not lying here anymore. “Do you know if dinner is done?”

“Do I look like a triangular bell that announces dinner? I have no fucking clue what Stephan is doing in there.”

Not in the mood to argue with Taters, I pick up my water bottle and head for the house. I push the sliding glass door open and am immediately assaulted with a mouth-watering aroma.

Stephan has a bunch of steaks on a plate, lightly seasoned. Roasted potatoes are fresh from the oven, I can still see the steam coming off them, and there’s a large salad brimming with vegetables in a bowl on the island.

Taters can really be a dick, but he also takes care of us, and one of the ways he does that is making sure we’re well fed. I am worried about him, though. I have no clue what it’s like to lose someone you love who’s been in your life for so many years. You don’t just get over it. But he needs to replace a way to move forward and not stay . . . ruined. And I have no idea how to help him with that.

“Hey, just the guy I was looking for. Do you know how Winnie takes her steak?” Stephan asks.

“Uh, no.”

“Do you know if she eats steak?”

“No.”

“Do you think you can replace out?” Stephan laughs.

I pull on the back of my neck. “Sure.”

I set my water bottle down on the counter and head toward her room, wondering when I became her handler. Hornsby was the one who was adamant about her staying first. I just got sucked into it.

When I make it to her room, I lightly knock on her door. When I don’t hear anything, I knock again.

Nothing.

Did she . . . leave?

I glance down the hallway to the entryway and spot her shoes. I don’t think she’d leave without those, so I knock again. When I still don’t hear anything, I wonder if she’s asleep.

I guess only one way to replace out.

I test the doorknob gingerly. It gives under my hand, unlocked, and I slowly, and I mean slowly, open the door.

“Winnie?” I call.

No response.

I crack the door open farther and stick my head inside, just enough to see her bed. She’s not in there.

Huh.

I push the door open farther and scan the room, and catch a glimpse of movement off to the right.

“Oh my God,” Winnie squeals. I turn just in time to catch her clutching a towel around her body.

“Oh shit . . . oh shit, I’m sorry.” I turn away and place my hand over my eyes.

“What are you doing?” she frantically asks.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, feeling my entire face turn red. “I’m not some Peeping Tom, if that’s what you’re wondering. I didn’t even see anything. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. I swear, I didn’t see anything, just your towel around your torso. I swear, my eyes are virginal when it comes to your body.”

That’s not true, you stared at her cleavage this morning.

But not going to mention that tidbit.

“Okay,” she says, a little calmer. “I believe you, but what are you doing in here?”

Keeping my back to her, I say, “I was knocking on your door and you didn’t answer. I thought maybe you left or something.”

“I was in the bathroom. I didn’t hear you. Maybe you need to learn to knock louder.”

“I’ll pound on the door next time. Maybe shout your name a few times, as well.”

She chuckles and then says, “I’m all covered up. You can look now.”

I straighten up and then casually turn around as if everything is normal.

But hell, nothing is normal when it comes to seeing Winnie in a towel. Her hair is piled high on the top of her head and her face is completely devoid of makeup like this morning, showing off a light spattering of freckles. And even though my eyes desperately want to scan her in that towel, I keep them north. Very far north. No sense in making this situation more uncomfortable by checking her out.

But hell, do I want to take in every last inch of her in that towel.

I stick my hands in my pockets and ask, “So, uh . . . enjoying another shower?”

She smirks. “No, a bath this time. I had to try out that jacuzzi tub.”

“Yeah, sure. Cool.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Was there a reason you came in here?”

“Oh yeah. Stephan wants to know if you eat steak.”

“I do. I love meat.”

I swallow hard. “Okay, so do I.”

Her smile grows, and I know it’s because she can sense how awkward I feel right now.

“Anyway, how do you take your steak? The guys all like it medium rare.”

“Me too. That would be perfect.”

“Cool. I’ll let Stephan know.”

I turn to leave when she calls out, “Hey, I was thinking—what if I pay you guys for the food I eat? I can tally it up or something like that.”

“You know Taters isn’t going to take your money. I already told you that.”

“But can’t he take something from me?”

I shrug. “I mean, I can ask him, but I’m pretty sure I know what the answer is going to be. He doesn’t even let us pay for anything.”

“Okay.” Her lips twist to the side and then her eyes light up. “What if I did the dishes? That would help Stephan, right?”

“Why don’t you get dressed and we can talk about it later?” With that, I leave her to get dressed and head back into the main living space, where the boys are gathering.

“Finish your book?” I ask Holmes as he pulls a beer from the fridge.

“Yeah.”

“That was fast.”

“It wasn’t too long and I read fast.”

“Does that mean you’re going to hang out with us now?”

“No, he started another one,” Posey says, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge. He tosses one my way and pops open the other for himself. The crack of beers opening signals Taters to come inside, as well.

“Stephan said steaks are almost done. He made one for Winnie. Know how she takes it?”

Know how she takes it?

“Shit, yeah. Sorry, I was meant to pass that one. Medium rare,” I say. “Can you apologize to Stephan?”

Oddly caring, he nods his head and goes back outside to tell Stephan.

“He’s in a mood,” Posey says. “I was playing chess with him earlier and he acted like a little bitch every time I took one of his pieces. The game ended with him flipping the board over and stomping away.”

“Wish I’d seen that bitch fit,” Hornsby says as he grabs a beer for himself. We all gather around the kitchen island.

“Right.” Posey picks up a chunk of roasted potato and pops it into his mouth. “Took me ten minutes to replace all the pieces. I ended up playing a game against myself after that just to settle my nerves.”

I take a pull from my beer and say, “The breakup is really getting to him. Anyone know why Sarah broke up with him?”

All the guys shake their heads.

“No fucking clue,” Hornsby says. “That’s something he’d normally confide in me but he’s said nothing, just that they broke up and it’s over.”

“Did he do something?” I ask. “Something stupid?”

“Maybe,” Holmes says, leaning against the counter.

We all turn toward him. “What do you mean?” Posey asks.

“Just that he could’ve done something stupid. The fame was getting to him.”

Whispering, I ask, “You think he cheated?”

Holmes shrugs just as Taters comes back in the house.

Unfortunately, as a collective group, we’re no good at being coy, so we all turn to look at him at the same time.

“What?” he asks, stopping right in front of the sliding glass door.

“Uhh, just wondering if you cheated on Sarah,” Hornsby says, not even pretending to hide the conversation.

“Dude.” I push at his shoulder.

“What? No use in hiding it. He either did or he didn’t.”

Taters’s eyes narrow as he says, “I would never fucking cheat on her and you four should know that.”

Stephan walks up behind Taters and says, “Steaks are ready.”

Irritated, Taters storms off, leaving us—well, at least me—feeling like an asshole.

“Why the hell did you have to say that?” Posey asks. “Now he’s going to be in an even worse mood.”

“Got to break him at some point,” Hornsby says while taking a sip of his beer. “Where’s—ah, there she is. I wasn’t sure you were actually still here because we didn’t see you all day.”

I glance over my shoulder to catch Winnie wearing a simple white tank top and a pair of sweatpants with the legs pushed up to her calves.

“Oh, I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“You’re not bothering us,” Hornsby says. “You don’t have to stay in your room. There’s plenty to do around here. There’s a movie theater and golf simulator in the basement. Ping-pong. Arcade games. We have some outdoor games in the backyard. Any good at horseshoes?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, we can teach you. There’s also a library in the loft with tons of books. Holmes has been taking advantage of that. Uh, there are trails that you can hike as well if you’re looking to check out some nature, but I would take one of us with you; we know these woods better. No need to stay in your room.”

“Well, thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Dinner’s ready, boys,” Stephan says.

Hornsby gestures to the plates. “Ladies first.”

Winnie holds up her hands. “Oh no, you guys go. I don’t feel right going first. And don’t press the point. No one is going to eat if you wait for me to go first.”

“Fair enough,” Posey says, grabbing a plate and jumping in. No shock there. Holmes goes second, then Hornsby, followed by Stephan, who announces he’s going to make a plate for Taters and take it to him.

Probably smart. Not sure Taters wants to be around us right now.

“Everything looks amazing,” I say as I pile some roasted potatoes onto my plate.

“Thanks. Hopefully the steaks are cooked to your liking.”

“They always are,” Posey says from the table.

“Hey, Winnie, help yourself to a beer or soda from the fridge,” Hornsby says.

“Oh, I have a water bottle, and that should be fine. Thank you anyway.”

She’s acting incredibly polite right now, almost demure. Not the same girl I saw this morning, and I think it’s because she’s intimidated around the guys. I know she doesn’t want to—as she puts it—bother us, but the guys really aren’t fazed. So far, she’s been easy to be around, funny. It’s not as if we don’t spend time with our teammates’ wives and girlfriends. Especially when we travel. None of us are really into the “ravenous” fans like some players are, so I doubt any of the guys feel uncomfortable. Do we give off that vibe, though? Do we intimidate her?

Once we gather our plates, we take a seat at the dining room table, and I carefully watch as Winnie piles little scoops of food on her plate. And the steak Stephan made, she takes a half of it. When I catch a glimpse of her dinner, I realize just how small it is.

And then when she starts walking toward her bedroom, bypassing the table altogether, I ask, “Where are you going?”

She stops and glances at the table. “Oh, I don’t want to impose. You guys do your thing. I’m going to eat real quick and then I’ll be back to do the dishes.”

“I got the dishes,” Stephan says from the kitchen.

“No, it’s the least that I can do. And thank you for dinner, it looks great.” She heads toward her bedroom again so I hop out of my chair and jog after her. I catch her right before she enters her room.

I put my hand against the doorframe and say, “Hey, have dinner with us.”

She shakes her head. “Seriously, Pacey, I don’t want to interrupt your guys’ trip. I’m okay with eating in here and trying to not rattle the boat . . . or however they say it.”

“You’re not . . . rocking the boat. It’s going to be awkward knowing you’re in your room, eating your dinner by yourself. You could’ve hung out with us today, too. You don’t have to hide away. You know, we’re pretty fun guys.”

“I don’t doubt that you are. I just feel . . . weird.”

“Why?”

She looks behind her and then whispers, “Given the circumstances, I’m not sure many people crash the houses of famous hockey players.”

“Ahh, let me guess.” I lean forward. “Did you look us up today once you got Internet access?”

“Maybe,” she says, looking away.

“Maybe tell a friend or two and they freaked out?”

“Maybe . . .”

“And now you’re freaked out because we’re no longer normal people in your eyes.”

“Possibly.” She nibbles on the corner of her lip.

I lift her chin with my index finger and say, “Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re normal people. We’re just idolized because we know how to play a sport on ice. But outside of that, we’re normal.”

“You don’t look normal.” She scans my chest and then lifts her eyes to mine.

“Can’t do much about the looks department, unless—” I snap my fingers. “Want us all to wear bags on our heads?”

“Oh my God, stop.” She pushes at my chest. It feels like a flirty move, and I like it.

I reach out and take her plate in my hand. “Seriously, come have dinner with us.”

“Pacey.”

“What?” I turn around and grin at her.

“I don’t know what to say to them.”

“Pretty sure they feel the same way. You’re a girl, after all. Your female parts scare us.” I pretend to shiver and she laughs even more.

“Stop being charming.”

“Ahh, sorry, that’s ingrained.” I nod toward the main living space. “Let’s go, Winnie. Hustle up.”

“Your sports terms aren’t going to make me move faster, just a heads-up on that.”

She catches up with me and we walk to the dining table together. “The queen is going to grace us with her presence tonight,” I say, setting her plate down next to mine.

“Is that how she wants us to refer to her?” Posey asks, his mouth full of potatoes.

“Queen Winnie, I believe,” I answer.

“God, please don’t.” Her cheeks are pink from embarrassment, and I replace it endearing, though I’m sure she doesn’t at all. “Just Winnie and, Pacey, stop making this a big deal.”

“But it is a big deal. You spent the whole day in your room, working on an equation that’s going to help bring us closer to Mars, and now we’re having dinner with you. Please tell us more about your trans-planetary endeavors.”

“Really?” Hornsby asks, and I hope to Jesus Winnie takes this moment to go along with it.

She glances at me and I grin while bringing a potato to my mouth.

With a flip of her napkin, she lays it across her lap and says, “Actually, it’s not a very important equation, but important enough to help the Mars Lander make a better attempt at a 360 turn. More precise so when we detect other living forms, we can grab a snapshot of it within an instant.”

“Holy shit,” Posey says. “So, you’re like a rocket scientist.”

I pick up my beer and hide my smirk behind it.

“Technically just a project manager for NASA, but if you want to call me a rocket scientist, sure, I’ll take it.”

“Wait.” Hornsby sets down his beer and asks, “So you know about Mars?”

“Sure do.” Winnie cuts into her steak, totally playing along. I fucking love it. “Wow, this feels like cutting through butter.”

“Do you think we’ll ever land a person on Mars?” Posey asks.

“The question isn’t if, but when,” Winnie answers, and fuck, I’m enjoying this far too much. I have no idea what this woman does, but what I do know is that she’s good at telling a story. “You see”—she points her fork at Hornsby—“we have the capability to be on Mars now, it’s just all about the politics.”

“What do you mean?” Posey asks. All the boys lean in, completely fascinated, even Holmes.

“Well, we’re not going to go to Mars just for the hell of it, but if, let’s say . . . Russia announces they’re going to put a human on Mars, then we’d be there in six months because we have the capabilities to do so.”

“Seriously? Holy shit,” Hornsby says while popping a piece of steak in his mouth. “So basically, it’s all about the politics now.”

“Yup. Until then, I’m just going to work on my equation and be happy with that.”

“So, you just work on the same thing over and over again?” Posey asks.

“I mean, isn’t that what you do?” she asks. “You work on the same thing over and over again, perfecting what you do. How is that any different than what I do?”

“She has a point,” I say.

“What happens when you solve the equation?” Posey asks.

“Then I work on another one. But let’s be honest, the Mars Lander already has a pretty good spin radius. I’m just chilling until I feel pressure from the top. If you catch my drift.” She winks and then takes a bite of steak.

Hornsby laughs. “I like your work ethic.”

“I mean, I don’t slack, I get stuff done. You know the whole ‘potatoes on Mars’ thing?” She points to her chest. “My idea. I tested some of the soil that we brought back to earth and saw that it has the perfect pH balance to grow potatoes. So, we tried it.”

“No shit,” Hornsby says, completely fascinated.

Oh hell, this is too fucking good.

“Who knew a rocket scientist was going to stumble into the cabin? Have you ever considered going to space?” Hornsby asks.

“I actually went to Texas for some training. I couldn’t get past the zero-G training. Let’s just say my stomach wasn’t made of steel.”

“Ooh, did you puke in those astronaut suits?”

She nods. “All over the face shield. Wasn’t pretty.”

“Is it true they pee in their astronaut suits?” Posey asks.

“Absolutely,” Winnie says, and I really wonder how much knowledge she has on this topic. I’m not sure I could make up this much. “I’ve peed a few times in them just for the hell of it. It’s weird, voluntarily peeing in your pants. But you get over it once you feel the sweet release for your bladder.”

Holmes sits back in his chair and asks, “What’s the name of the Mars Lander that’s working on Mars right now? I read an article that there are sixteen on Mars, but only one working.”

Uh-oh. Looks as though she might be caught in her lie. Holmes is too damn smart.

“Falcon,” Winnie says without tripping up. She picks up a potato and places it in her mouth.

Huh, maybe she does work within the space field, because that was a bullet answer. She seems to know—

“Funny, I thought it was Perseverance.”

Winnie stops chewing as all the guys turn toward her. She smiles wide and I laugh out loud.

“Damn, girl, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you were going to be able to take it that far. You know a lot about space,” I say.

“What do you mean?” Hornsby asks. “Are you not a rocket scientist?”

Winnie swallows and starts laughing while shaking her head. “No, sorry. I heard Neil deGrasse Tyson on a podcast and found it fascinating. I have no idea what’s going on in space or with Mars. And an equation for a radial turn—not even sure that’s a thing, but thank you for thinking I’m smart.”

“Man,” Posey says, tossing his napkin. “I’ve never felt so duped. I really thought you knew what you were talking about. I had far too much excitement about picking your brain.”

“I feel so let down right now,” Hornsby says, and then he chuckles. “We need to watch out with this girl. She thinks she’s the one who needs to be careful of being abducted. Did you see that on-the-spot lying? That’s some crazy shit.” He points his fork at Winnie. “She’s going to murder us in our sleep. I mean, she answered ‘Falcon’ without even blinking. Falcon seemed like a legit name for a Mars Lander. I actually like Falcon better than Perseverance.”

“I agree,” Posey says. “If she’d said Perseverance, I don’t think I would’ve believed her. But Falcon? That’s a commanding name. A name that takes charge, that doesn’t need an equation to spin properly.”

“Maybe you should write NASA an email, tell them to switch it up. Offer them some suggestions,” I say.

“Can we use your connections?” Hornsby asks Winnie sarcastically.

“Sure thing.” Winnie winks and takes another bite of her steak.

“Well, since you don’t work for NASA, what do you do?” Posey asks.

“Still trying to figure that out,” she says quietly. “Kind of had a little break in life, and now I’m waking back up from that break. One of the reasons why I’m out here is to figure out what I want to do.”

“Why Banff?” I ask, confused and also intrigued by her evasiveness.

“A few reasons,” she answers, but keeps it at that.

“Doesn’t look as though she’s willing to share just yet,” Posey says. “But I’m sure one of us will crack her by the time she leaves.” Posey’s eyes connect with mine and I look away, not liking his innuendo.

“I just appreciate the hospitality.” She pats her stomach. “This food is amazing.”

“Save some room,” Stephan says from the kitchen. “I made some peanut butter fluff pie.”

Leaning toward Winnie, I say, “You’re really going to want to save some room. His PB fluff pie will be the best thing you ever put in your mouth.”

Her eyes flit down to my mouth for a brief second before they’re back up to my eyes. “I’m going to have to take your word for it,” she says.