Falling for the Backup
Page 25
“Do you think she would?”
“Yeah, I do, but I’m afraid she’ll resent me in the end.”
“I understand that. Okay,” Bill said, tapping away on the computer again. “I’ll contact the Predators—maybe even St. Louis, since that’s close. You could always commute.”
Jordan grinned broadly. “Thank you so much, Dad. I love you.”
“It may not work, son, but we’ll try. If it doesn’t work and the contract is right with the IceCats, you’ll come here. Agreed?”
“Yeah, she knows I plan on leaving. I just don’t want to.”
“Understood. Okay, well, talk to you soon,” Bill said.
“Sounds good; bye, Dad.”
Jordan was about to end the call when he heard his dad clear his throat. “Son.”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too, and I’m very proud of you. Can’t wait to meet her.”
Jordan smiled, looking up at the sky as he said, “You’ll love her.”
“I know I will. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Jordan ended the call, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He hoped to God something would work out. He didn’t want to make Aynslee cry any more than he already had. He only wanted to make her happy. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, to love her until his dying day and watch her carry his children. They could try to do the long-distance thing, but those relationships hardly ever worked, and he wanted to be with her all of the time, not part of the time. It was hard enough leaving her for road trips, but to live five hundred miles away—he couldn’t do that.
He walked in to the pub, went to the bar, and sat down. Shea, Tate, and some of the other guys were going to try to stop by later, but he doubted they’d make it; they were pretty beat after practice and wanted to be fresh for tomorrow’s game. Looking around the pub, he took in the manly décor. Sports memorabilia was everywhere. Pictures of hockey greats like Wayne Gretzky, Brett Hull, Patrick Roy, and Gordie Howe hung on the walls. Glancing around for a bartender, he leaned against the bar, grabbing a few peanuts from the bowl on the counter and popping them into his mouth.
Finally, a tall redheaded man came out of the back. When he set eyes on Jordan, he turned around and yelled in a thick Irish accent, “I swear on everything holy that if I didn’t love you guys I’d fire you! We have a customer!” Turning to look at Jordan, he said, “I’m so sorry; my family is very lazy.”
“No worries,” Jordan said with a smile. The man reminded him of his own redhead.
“Can I get you a beer?”
“Yes, please, draft,” Jordan said, getting his wallet out, but the man shook his head.
“Thanks, but it’s on the house as long as I can have an autograph,” he said, placing Jordan’s beer in front of him before holding out his hand. “The name is Bowie, and I’m a fan. You’re a fantastic goalie.”
Jordan took his hand and shook it. “Thank you; it’s great to meet you.”
Bowie’s grin was familiar, and suddenly it clicked.
“Do you have a daughter?”
“I do, six. Are you looking for a wife? My Aynslee is a peach.”
Hell yeah, she is, Jordan thought, as Bowie pointed to a picture of Aynslee. Jordan didn’t know how he had missed it, but it was something else. The photo must have been taken years ago, because she looked like a teenager, but even then she was gorgeous.
Jordan reached across the bar again to shake the man’s hand once more, and Bowie looked bewildered. He then said, “I know you know me as a hockey player, sir, but I am also dating your daughter.”
Bowie blinked twice and then let out a hearty laugh. “Excuse me?”
“Aynslee Shaw, spelled A-y-n-s-l-e-e? That’s my girlfriend.”
“You’re dating my Aynslee?”
Jordan nodded as Bowie eyed him suspiciously.
“You’re not her normal type. She usually goes for fairy-looking guys.”
Laughter sputtered out of Jordan as he said, “Thanks, I think.”
Bowie let out another hearty laugh, turning to face the back of the barroom before yelling out, “Tully! Sweetheart!”
Jordan looked past him to see a short round woman with blond hair walking toward them.
“What do you want, old bat? You yell at me, saying I’m lazy, but then I try to cook and you bother me,” she complained as she came up beside him.
Bowie snickered before pointing a thumb at Jordan and saying, “This man says he is dating our Aynslee.”
Tully looked over at Jordan and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, ma’am. Has she told you about me?”
Tully’s green eyes were still locked on Jordan. “She did. But I was expecting a fairy-looking guy.”
Jordan chuckled as Tully flashed him a wide smile, taking his hand in hers.
“I’m Tully Shaw, Aynslee’s mother; and you are?”
“Jordan Ryan. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too. I have a bone to pick with my daughter: She didn’t prepare me for someone so handsome.”
Jordan laughed as he pulled his phone out and said, “Let’s call her together.”
He hit Aynslee’s contact and put it on speakerphone. When she came on the line, Jordan smiled as she said, “Hey, you.”
“Hey, beautiful, guess what?” he asked as Tully and Bowie both beamed at him.
“Yeah, I do, but I’m afraid she’ll resent me in the end.”
“I understand that. Okay,” Bill said, tapping away on the computer again. “I’ll contact the Predators—maybe even St. Louis, since that’s close. You could always commute.”
Jordan grinned broadly. “Thank you so much, Dad. I love you.”
“It may not work, son, but we’ll try. If it doesn’t work and the contract is right with the IceCats, you’ll come here. Agreed?”
“Yeah, she knows I plan on leaving. I just don’t want to.”
“Understood. Okay, well, talk to you soon,” Bill said.
“Sounds good; bye, Dad.”
Jordan was about to end the call when he heard his dad clear his throat. “Son.”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too, and I’m very proud of you. Can’t wait to meet her.”
Jordan smiled, looking up at the sky as he said, “You’ll love her.”
“I know I will. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Jordan ended the call, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He hoped to God something would work out. He didn’t want to make Aynslee cry any more than he already had. He only wanted to make her happy. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, to love her until his dying day and watch her carry his children. They could try to do the long-distance thing, but those relationships hardly ever worked, and he wanted to be with her all of the time, not part of the time. It was hard enough leaving her for road trips, but to live five hundred miles away—he couldn’t do that.
He walked in to the pub, went to the bar, and sat down. Shea, Tate, and some of the other guys were going to try to stop by later, but he doubted they’d make it; they were pretty beat after practice and wanted to be fresh for tomorrow’s game. Looking around the pub, he took in the manly décor. Sports memorabilia was everywhere. Pictures of hockey greats like Wayne Gretzky, Brett Hull, Patrick Roy, and Gordie Howe hung on the walls. Glancing around for a bartender, he leaned against the bar, grabbing a few peanuts from the bowl on the counter and popping them into his mouth.
Finally, a tall redheaded man came out of the back. When he set eyes on Jordan, he turned around and yelled in a thick Irish accent, “I swear on everything holy that if I didn’t love you guys I’d fire you! We have a customer!” Turning to look at Jordan, he said, “I’m so sorry; my family is very lazy.”
“No worries,” Jordan said with a smile. The man reminded him of his own redhead.
“Can I get you a beer?”
“Yes, please, draft,” Jordan said, getting his wallet out, but the man shook his head.
“Thanks, but it’s on the house as long as I can have an autograph,” he said, placing Jordan’s beer in front of him before holding out his hand. “The name is Bowie, and I’m a fan. You’re a fantastic goalie.”
Jordan took his hand and shook it. “Thank you; it’s great to meet you.”
Bowie’s grin was familiar, and suddenly it clicked.
“Do you have a daughter?”
“I do, six. Are you looking for a wife? My Aynslee is a peach.”
Hell yeah, she is, Jordan thought, as Bowie pointed to a picture of Aynslee. Jordan didn’t know how he had missed it, but it was something else. The photo must have been taken years ago, because she looked like a teenager, but even then she was gorgeous.
Jordan reached across the bar again to shake the man’s hand once more, and Bowie looked bewildered. He then said, “I know you know me as a hockey player, sir, but I am also dating your daughter.”
Bowie blinked twice and then let out a hearty laugh. “Excuse me?”
“Aynslee Shaw, spelled A-y-n-s-l-e-e? That’s my girlfriend.”
“You’re dating my Aynslee?”
Jordan nodded as Bowie eyed him suspiciously.
“You’re not her normal type. She usually goes for fairy-looking guys.”
Laughter sputtered out of Jordan as he said, “Thanks, I think.”
Bowie let out another hearty laugh, turning to face the back of the barroom before yelling out, “Tully! Sweetheart!”
Jordan looked past him to see a short round woman with blond hair walking toward them.
“What do you want, old bat? You yell at me, saying I’m lazy, but then I try to cook and you bother me,” she complained as she came up beside him.
Bowie snickered before pointing a thumb at Jordan and saying, “This man says he is dating our Aynslee.”
Tully looked over at Jordan and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, ma’am. Has she told you about me?”
Tully’s green eyes were still locked on Jordan. “She did. But I was expecting a fairy-looking guy.”
Jordan chuckled as Tully flashed him a wide smile, taking his hand in hers.
“I’m Tully Shaw, Aynslee’s mother; and you are?”
“Jordan Ryan. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too. I have a bone to pick with my daughter: She didn’t prepare me for someone so handsome.”
Jordan laughed as he pulled his phone out and said, “Let’s call her together.”
He hit Aynslee’s contact and put it on speakerphone. When she came on the line, Jordan smiled as she said, “Hey, you.”
“Hey, beautiful, guess what?” he asked as Tully and Bowie both beamed at him.
