Roman (Cold Fury Hockey #7)(16)
I immediately recognize the name, as I’ve learned a lot about Lexi these past few days, which included her raving about her boss and somewhat of a surrogate mother who owns this shop. In addition, Lexi rents a small apartment above Georgia’s garage, so she’s also her landlord. Lexi confided in me that she had told Georgia that I was her father, but she’s the only person she’s told.
“Ah,” I say in understanding as I smile at her. “Lexi’s boss and owner of this very unique establishment.”
“That I am,” she says as she levels a hard stare at me. “And you look totally out of place here. This is so not your scene, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone appear more awkward before.”
My entire body tightens at what I’m pretty sure was a well-placed insult, but for the life of me I can’t understand why it was lodged. Granted, my status as the CEO of a professional sports team grants me luxuries and privileges that greet me wherever I go, but never once have I been told that I don’t belong somewhere. Especially not in a retail establishment that is dependent upon customer service.
Particularly not by a sprite of a woman with amazing long and curly blond hair and the warmest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, and why in the world am I even focusing on those things?
With a stiff spine, I level a hard stare back at her, not in the slightest taken in by her beauty—or so I tell myself. I sit up straighter on my stool and pull forth all of my executive prowess before I tell her, “Is it your business, Mrs. Mack—”
“Miss Mack,” she says with an exaggerated twang.
“Miss Mack,” I acknowledge. “Is it your business to insult your customers? I can’t say as I’m surprised, as one of your employees called me dude a little bit ago.”
The woman sitting beside me doesn’t acknowledge that she’s insulted me or that she has a rude employee, but merely nods her head wisely. “That’s Tink.”
“Who’s Tink?” I ask, confused.
“The guy behind the counter,” she explains. “He’s not much on manners, but he makes a fantastic cup of coffee. He got out of prison about three months ago and was having a hard time landing a job.”
“Prison?” I ask, totally stunned she has a felon working here.
With my daughter.
She nods and says gravely, “Murder. Just went nuts one day and slaughtered his entire family.”
“What?” I say as I stand and look wildly behind me for the kid behind the counter who served my tea. He’s nowhere to be seen, and my imagination kicks into overdrive. What if he’s in back with Lexi?
“Relax,” Miss Mack says to me as she lays a hand on my arm, and my head snaps to her. “I’m just kidding. Although he did murder a squirrel once.”
“A squirrel?” I say weakly as I sink back onto the stool.
With a nod, she winks and leans in. “He was driving after having a few beers one night, a definite no-no in my book, and a squirrel darted out in front of him. You see, Tink loves animals and he jerked the wheel hard to avoid hitting it, all to no avail. The squirrel got flattened and Tink ran off the road, took out two mailboxes, and mowed down a crape myrtle tree. He lost his license for driving while impaired and I think spent the night in jail. But the point being, I’ll talk to Tink and ask him to have a little more respect toward the customers. He tries hard, honestly, and just needs some guidance.”
My mouth is hanging open as I listen to her story, and I can’t tell if she’s still pulling my leg. All I can do is mutter, “I think that would be good.”
I reach out and take my cup of tea, bring it to my lips, and blow on it a second before I taste it. It’s delicious and I take another sip before setting it down. My eyes slide over to Georgia Mack, still sitting there, and still watching me with an amused smile on her face.
“Is there something else you wanted?” I ask cautiously, careful not to offend Lexi’s boss but also feeling oddly unsettled by her presence.
“Just waiting to see if that stick up your butt got jostled loose by my story about Tink,” she offers with a shrug. “I’m thinking not.”
“Stick up my butt?” I ask dumbly, even as I sit straighter on my stool, which probably only verifies her perception of me.
“You need to relax, Brian,” she coos at me, reaching a hand out sparkling with rings and placing it on my shoulder. It’s light but warm, and she gives me a squeeze. “Your daughter has quite an electric personality, one I’m sure you’ll start to realize can be downright off-putting at times, sort of like me. I’m sure Lexi’s dialed it back a notch, you know, being nervous to meet you and all, but you’re going to have to loosen up a bit if you want to have a relationship with her. That girl is balls to the wall, if you know what I mean.”
I can’t help it. My nose actually wrinkles slightly over her “balls to the wall” comment, which is not a term I’d like to hear used to describe my daughter. Of course, Georgia takes note of my expression and throws her head back in a deep laugh, which much to my consternation causes the gap in her dress to separate and reveal more of her cleavage to me. The consternation is because my eyes are helplessly drawn there and held fascinated by the roundness of her breasts and the fact that she has freckles splattered across her chest.
When my eyes drag upward, I find her staring at me with that same amused smile, her eyes glinting with mischief. I glare at her and pick my tea up to take another sip.