In Your Wildest Dreams (Wildcat Hockey Book 4)

As soon as I step outside of the hospital, I exhale and tip my head up to the sky. The sun is out and there’s a hint of warmth seeping through the fall morning.

I survived another week of working the night shift. Only three classes stand between me and a weekend of sleep. Thank goodness. I’m dead tired.

Distracted by my overwhelming exhaustion, I don’t see Ash until he’s right in front of me.

My steps come to a halt and my backpack slides off my shoulder. A cocky smile tips up one side of his mouth. I feel my face heat as he stares at me.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I reply slowly. Seeing Ash Kelly out in the world, walking around like he’s a normal human, is incredibly strange. “What are you doing here?”

“I remembered you said you got off at seven.”

“You’re here to see me?” The question comes out squeaky, my voice high-pitched and full of surprise.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about our breakfast date last week.”

“It wasn’t a date,” I say quickly.

“Good. I feel less like an ass for not showing then.”

“I heard they’d taken you to imaging. I had to get to class anyway.” Was I disappointed? Maybe.

He nods thoughtfully.

“How’s the shoulder?” I motion toward the sling cradling his left arm.

“Better.” He glances down at it, then turns his gaze back to me. “Are you headed to class now?”

“Home first.”

“Time for coffee?”

“Oh…uh.” I look around. No one else seems aware that Ash is… Ash, and they’re just walking by like this incredibly hot, talented guy isn’t standing here asking me out for the second time. It’s bizarre. We’re in bizarro land.

“Trying to come up with an excuse?” He chuckles softly. “It’s just coffee.”

I have a feeling nothing with Ash is just anything, but since my brain isn’t functioning well enough to come up with an excuse, I lead him back inside. There’s a coffee shop on the first floor next to the gift store. He orders black coffee with one sugar and a splash of cream. I get mine with lots of both.

With our drinks in hand, Ash and I find a small table out front.

“So…” His light brown hair is tucked behind his ears and he wears a playful smile that promises fun and flirting. I could probably use a little more of both in my life. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.” I blow lightly on my coffee and then take a sip. An awkwardness that I don’t remember from the other night stretches out between us. “You?”

“Bored. Restless. I’m not used to sitting around so much.”

“Have the doctors said how long you’ll be out?” Medical talk, this I can do.

“Three more weeks minimum.” His mouth is tight at the corners.

“I’m sorry.”

His expression shifts and he veers us to another topic. “How’s the apartment hunting coming?”

“I’ve barely looked,” I tell him honestly, then add, “I’ll find something.”

“I know a couple girls who go to Whittaker. They live just off campus and one of them mentioned they were looking for a third roommate. If you want me to put you in contact with them, I’d be happy to.”

“Oh wow. Thank you, but I think I prefer to live alone.”

“Why? It’s so boring.”

I laugh. “I take it you live alone?”

“I had roommates until recently. Now my place feels so quiet and empty. I hate it.” There’s a whine to his voice that emphasizes just how much he hates it.

“I like the quiet. It’s hard with my schedule too. I’m sleeping while everyone else is up.”

“I never asked you the other night, what made you decide to be a nurse?” He rests his right hand on the table. His fingers are long and strong looking. His arms and chest are covered with a long-sleeved black shirt that stretches over his muscular frame. He’s built exactly like you’d expect for a professional athlete.

“My cousin was born with a heart defect and spent a few years of middle school in and out of hospitals. She’s fine now, but we were close, and I spent a lot of time visiting her when she was there. The experience stuck with me. It was different than I expected. The nurses were fun and happy. They played games with her and talked about pop culture and brought in books and magazines they thought she’d like. I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t sound like much, but they made all the difference in how she felt about missing school and time with friends. She keeps in contact with at least one still today.”

“That’s cool.” The way he smiles at me like I just said something far more exciting than I did makes my stomach flip.

“Did you always want to be a hockey player?”

“Not always. For a while I wanted to be a firefighter.”

“What made you change your mind?”

His smile gets shy, which is a very odd look for Ash Kelly, and I find myself leaning in, eager to hear his answer.

“I found out that not every firefighter gets their own Dalmatian. I was five and my kindergarten class went to the local fire station.” He places his right hand over his heart. “Like a knife to the chest.”

“The Dalmatian does really make the job.”

“Right? They didn’t have any dogs there. Major bummer.” He grins. “And for a very brief time I thought I was going to be a rock star.”

“Do you sing?”

“No.” He gives his head a brief shake. “But I spent one ear-piercing week trying to learn guitar.”

Laughter spills out of me at his admission. “A firefighter, a rock star, and a hockey player, huh?”

“I can’t imagine it any different now.”

“Me either.”

His mouth curves. “Nurse Bridget. I still can’t believe I had to get injured to find you again.”

I run my thumb along the back of my ring on my middle finger, twisting the gold band around absently. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t how I would have scripted it, but shit happens.” His gaze drops to my scrub top where my name badge hangs off the front pocket. “Being a nurse suits you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I’m learning.” After another sip of coffee, he asks, “Why’d you give up tennis?”

Why’d I do any number of the things I did over the past two years? Why’d I stop hanging out with friends or going home to see my family? Quitting tennis is just one more bad decision I made among many.

I go with, “It was hard to juggle it with school and work.”

Not the complete truth, but it isn’t a lie either.

“How long until you graduate?”

“May.”

Speaking of school, I turn my wrist over to check the time. The minutes are flying by and I need to get home to shower and change before my first class.

“You need to go?” Ash asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. The professor for my morning class is a stickler for being on time.”

“I get it. Plans this weekend? I’d love to take you out sometime. Drinks? Dinner?”

There’s a part of me that wants to say yes, but even if I were ready to date again after Gabe—and I’m not, going out with Ash would be like signing up for a marathon without training. “Thank you, but I can’t.”

“Because you’re busy.” His brows lift in a playful, teasing expression.

“It’s only been a month since my ex and I broke up and I’m not really in a place mentally or emotionally to get involved with anyone yet.” It’s honest, but I’m sure he thinks I’m blowing him off. A hint of sadness creeps in as I realize this is probably the last time I’ll ever see him. “Thank you for the coffee and for asking me out. It’s the nicest thing that’s happened to me in a while.”

“You deserve nice things,” he says with such certainty that I wonder if he has any idea how hard the past month has been.

I clear my throat and swallow down my emotions. “I hope your shoulder heals quickly.”

“Thanks.” He pulls a napkin from the holder. “You got a pen?”

I hand him one from my backpack and watch as he scribbles on one side of the napkin and then turns it over and scribbles on the other side.

“That’s my number,” he says as he sets the pen down on top of it and slides it toward me. “If you change your mind, give me a call.”

His name and number stare up at me in bold slanted letters. I flip it over and then look up at him quizzically.

“That is the name and number of the girl I was telling you about with the room for rent. In case you don’t find another place. I told her about you. She’s cool. I think you two would get along well.”

I’m oddly touched by the gesture even if there’s no way I’m calling some random girl that he probably slept with. I fold it and tuck it inside the front pocket of my backpack. “Thank you. Again.”

His blue gaze holds mine. “You’re welcome, Nurse Bridget.”

Saturday morning, I pull the pillow over my head and groan. It’s the third day in a row I’ve woken up to the sound of landscapers hard at work before sunrise. Chainsaws, leaf blowers, pressure washers, and today…some sort of weird, loud hissing noise?

I forgave the last two days because it was the middle of the day and I’m used to noise and distraction while I’m trying to sleep during normal work hours. I didn’t even hold it against them (too much) when they left their tools on my front porch yesterday afternoon during their lunch break and I ran out for my afternoon classes and nearly ate concrete as I tripped and fell over a weed whacker.

The point is, I understand that people need to do their jobs and not everyone can work a traditional eight to five. Trust me, I get it. But it’s the weekend and I had big plans of sleeping in.

Sitting up, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. Another groan slips out when I see it’s just past six.

I stomp into the living area of the little guest house I’ve been renting for the past year and go directly to the coffee machine. Eyes only half open, I stand there and wait for it to brew, breathing in the smell and doing my best to block out the noise outside. I’m pretty sure they have a radio going too. That or I still have yesterday’s heavy metal soundtrack playing in my head.

I’m a little less angry as soon as I take my first sip. They’re just trying to do their job. It isn’t their fault that Ms. Cole decided to do a complete overhaul of her landscaping before putting her house on the market. Although that thought has me slipping back into a bad mood because I have four weeks left to find a new place to live and so far, the best option is a tiny one-bedroom ten miles from campus and even farther from the hospital.

I take another sip, hoping the more caffeine I get into my system, the less cranky I’ll be.

Saturday is my favorite day of the week. I usually sleep in and then go on a long walk in the nearby park. I listen to a podcast or audiobook and watch all the people with their cute dogs.

Slightly more awake, I take my mug over to the front window and pull back the curtain. I’m not at all prepared to come face to face with a man in a white-hooded jumpsuit. The only thing the jumpsuit doesn’t cover is his face, but he has on a ventilation mask and goggles so there are just tiny splotches of skin exposed to confirm it’s a man and not a robot.

I screech and spill my hot coffee down my bare legs and toes. The man doesn’t startle at all, just lifts the fingers around the handle of the spray gun and continues painting the exterior of the house.

I wave back and then quickly pull the curtain back in place. A quick shower later, I pull on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Then I grab my jacket and a hat to head out.

I only realize I’ve left my gloves when I arrive at the park. I go to the coffee cart and get another drink, wrapping my fingers around the cup to keep them warm, and start around the paved pathway that circles the park.

The park sits between campus and a cute downtown neighborhood that’s popular with wealthy thirty-somethings. Today it’s more of them than my fellow students. They’re probably all still sleeping. Lucky them.

An adorable, but highly energetic, chocolate lab runs by. His owner, huffing as he’s pulled along, waves and I think he says ‘good morning,’ but it’s hard to tell since he’s so out of breath. A couple with a gray Miniature Schnauzer stops to pick up a steaming pile of poo, and a girl about my age is pushing a tiny, little, very expensive-looking breed of some kind around in a stroller.

After a few laps around, I toss the empty coffee cup and sit on a bench. A guy with a Pug stops in front of me to tie his shoe. The Pug gives me a once-over, as if deciding if I’m friendly (or have treats), and ambles over.

“Hi,” I say as I lean down. I glance up at the guy. “Is it okay if I pet her?”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “She must like you. She doesn’t usually go to strangers.”

I slide my fingers through her short, tan coat. “I like her too.”

I scratch around her green collar and twist it to read her name, “Pretty Girl.”

Standing to his full height, the guy looks embarrassed as he says, “She was my grandmother’s dog. I didn’t name her.”

Laughing softly, I coo at the dog. “Hi, Pretty Girl.”

When I look back up, the guy is watching me instead of the dog. I sit straighter. “Thanks for letting me say hi to her.”

“Any time. We were about to grab coffee and walk around the park. Would you want to join us?”

My gaze drops from his face to his green sweatshirt. A Wildcat sweatshirt. My thoughts instantly go to Ash, just as they have more times than I’d like to admit since we said goodbye in the hospital parking lot.

“I was just about to head out.” I give the dog one more scratch, then stand. “Enjoy your Saturday. Bye, Pretty Girl.”

When I get back home, I’m relieved to see they’re done painting the guesthouse, but it’s a short-lived relief when Ms. Cole comes out of the back door, waving and calling my name.

“Morning, Ms. Cole.”

“Morning! Morning!” She’s all smiles in her yoga pants and oversized T-shirt. “I’m glad I caught you. I’m so sorry about all the noise this week. My realtor wants everything in tip-top shape as soon as possible so she can take photos for the listing.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, even as a yawn breaks free.

“Have you found a new place yet?” she asks in a hopeful tone. I know she feels at least a little bad about giving me the boot. Not bad enough to throw away her plans to sell and move to Florida, but normal, decent-human twinges of remorse.

“No. Not yet.” I try my best to match her hopefulness, but I’m certain I fail when her smile falls into a pitying frown.

“If there’s anything I can do, let me know. I can write a referral or ask my realtor if she knows of any one-bedroom rentals.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it, but I’m sure something will come up.”

She nods. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. And don’t forget that on Monday they’ll be coming by to get photos of the guesthouse.”

“Got it.” With one hand in the air in a wave, I hurry back to my guesthouse. Or at least it’s mine for a few more weeks.

Shutting the door, I lean my back against it and blow out a breath. Looks like I’ll be spending the rest of my day searching classifieds.

I grab my backpack and take it to the couch. Sitting cross-legged, I pull out my laptop and open it up. Nothing new has posted since the last time I searched so I go through the same few options. They’re either way out of my price range or too far away from campus. Beggars can’t be choosers at this point though. Looks like I’ll be commuting in every day.

I unzip the front pocket of my backpack and dig around for a pen and paper to write down the contact information for the properties. A piece of paper flies out with the pen. I unfold it and stare at Ash’s handwriting.

I’m not sure I believe in fate, but if I did, I’d say the universe is telling me there’s another option. That or the universe thinks I’m an idiot for not agreeing to go out with him. Touché, universe.