“What did happen?” None of her business, and knowing probably made all her attempts at not befriending him useless, but, oh damn well.
“I… I don’t know. Two years ago it was a fluke. I was thinking too much about the next play, about how this would be it, the thing that put me over the top, and I lost sight of the puck. Never done that, but I wanted that Cup. I wanted it so bad, and I was an idiot.”
“And last time?”
He kicked at the ground. “I had that moment stuck in my head. Playing like a loop. All I could think was don’t fuck it up again, but I did. They’re not lying when they say professional sports is more mental than physical, Mel. Some guys have all the physical talent in the world, but they can’t handle the pressure. I didn’t think that was me, but one mistake and I can’t move past it. I’m not any good at fixing my mistakes, never have been.”
Oh, crud, crud, crud. He just had to make her feel sorry for him.
“Well, if that’s true, why would anyone think it’s criminal?”
“I’m too good to be that bad only when it matters.” He shrugged like it was indisputable fact. “I don’t really want to talk about this anymore. Can we just pound shit?”
“Right, yeah.” She looked back at the mangled fence, the supplies they’d bought yesterday. They needed to get a few more posts in, pour the quick-set concrete.
“Out of curiosity, do you believe me?” he asked.
He was staring at her earnestly. Like her answer mattered, even though they both had to know it shouldn’t. “I don’t have any reason not to believe you,” she said carefully.
“Well, I guess that’s something. Thanks.” He gave her shoulder an awkward pat, and she tried to ignore the fact that he was close. Kind of sweaty. So hot.
Cruddy crud crud.
*
“Well, no one I’ve found is interested in taking the llama off your hands, but the straw we left will do for tonight. I’ll do some more searching tomorrow.”
Dan stood on his porch, watching Mel tick things off her list. There was an unfamiliar panic jumping around in his gut at the prospect of being left alone in this tiny old house in the shadow of imposing mountains. “Yeah, sure.”
“We’ll set her up some grazing space tomorrow. If no one wants her, I guess that makes you the lucky owner. Just leave the ham for your own dinner.”
Dan looked at the house behind him. Though the kitchen was now well stocked after yesterday’s grocery store outing, the thought of making dinner…dinner alone…
“You want to stay for dinner?” It was a pathetic invitation, but he was feeling pathetic. Lonely. If he didn’t distract himself, he might do something stupid. He had no idea what kind of trouble he could get up to in the middle of nowhere, but he didn’t trust himself.
“No, thanks.”
“Ouch. No conscience over leaving me here by my lonesome night after night?”
“Two nights and no conscience at all.” But the way she studied him, frowning, undercut the words. She did care, or she’d already be out the door. He worked on his best pathetic look, until she sighed.
“Look, if you really want a decent dinner and some company, you can come with me.”
“Come with you?”
“To Shaw. I was planning on cooking for my brother and dad.”
“You’re inviting me to your house for dinner? For dinner cooked by you?” Now he felt really pathetic. Mel Shaw was pity-inviting him to dinner.
“If I have to cook for two assholes, I might as well cook for three. Do not tell my dad or brother I called them assholes, but it really gets my goat that I’m expected to cook just because I have breasts and don’t want to eat pizza every night.”
“Gets your goat, huh?”
“You want a decent meal, you shut up and get in the truck.”
He wasn’t going to argue with that, and it might be interesting to see her operation. He hadn’t thought much about her living situation. He figured she’d sprouted from the ground, snarky cowgirl fully formed. No father involved.
But he climbed into her truck, and she drove away from his grandparents’ ranch and toward Blue Valley’s sad little Main Street. It was only seven, but almost every establishment was closed except the diner and what appeared to be some hole-in-the-wall bar.
Back outside of Blue Valley, driving toward the mountains that always seemed to be just out of reach, he glanced at Mel. She had her hands tight on the wheel as she navigated bumpy country roads.
She’d thrown her hat in the backseat, and the braid she usually wore was falling out of its band at the bottom. It had done that yesterday too, strands unraveling from the rigid line of hair she showed up with each morning.