“You were doped up.” She tried not to laugh. “It was cupcakes.”
“I like muffins.”
Yeah. Everyone on the planet pretty much knew that about Sam. “What’s your point?”
“Just that I might have been out of line talking about your muffin, but since we were just talking about your cupcakes, then I’m—”
“Sam, what are you doing to that poor woman?” a male voice interrupted. Autumn turned to look at the man walking from the tunnel. Surprise stopped Ty Savage in his tracks. “Why are you harassing Autumn, the wedding planner?”
“Hel o,” she said. “How are you?”
“Okay.” He looked from one to the other. “Evidently you know Sam.”
Sam dropped his hands to his sides. “Autumn is my ex-wife.”
Ex-wife? He usual y introduced her as “Conner’s mother.”
Ty’s dark brows shot up his forehead. “Oh.”
Autumn was used to Ty’s reaction. She clearly was not Sam’s type of woman.
“What are you up to?” Sam asked his former teammate.
“Just viewing prospect tapes.”
“Anyone look promising?” Sam asked, al nonchalant, as if he hadn’t just been talking about muffins and cupcakes.
“A kid from Russia and a sophomore from Syracuse with a wicked wrist shot.”
“You looking at rookies?”
“Yeah. We’re loaded with prima donna vets like you.”
“Dad!”
Sam turned to Conner. “I’m coming.”
“It was nice to see you again, Autumn.
” Ty turned, and said over his shoulder, “If you see Jules around, tel him I’m looking for him.” Then he was gone, the sound of his shoes silenced by the rubber matting.
“You think you’re going to be warm enough now?”
Autumn nodded, and as Sam stepped onto the ice, she leaned forward and picked up her coat. Sam skated next to Conner and picked up his stick. The two passed the puck back and forth, and she watched the way Sam paused to touch his son’s head and back and patiently helped him when he fel . The two skated side by side. Sam made it look easy, smooth, while Conner struggled, teetering and almost fal ing every inch of the way. Sam said something, his low voice mixing with Conner’s childish tones. The two laughed, and her heart lifted a little in her chest. The blanket fel from Autumn’s shoulders and pooled at her waist as she reached into her coat pocket. She pul ed out her BlackBerry before her heart pinched, too. Before she got al weepy at the sight. She read her e-mails, sent text messages to Shiloh, and brought up the calendar on her phone. The Friday after Thanksgiving she and Conner were leaving on a minivacation. They needed to leave early Friday morning, but Thanksgiving was Sam’s holiday this year, which was annoying since Sam was Canadian and didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving on the third Thursday in November. Usual y, if it was Sam’s holiday, and if he was going to be in town, which was rare, he kept Conner overnight. She needed to talk to him about that and hoped like heck he’d let Conner come home that night so they could head out at daybreak. It was the first Thanksgiving in a long time that she wouldn’t be making a big meal for her brother and Conner. Conner would be with Sam, Vince at work, and she’d have the whole day to herself.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
She looked up past black-and-brown plaid pants, black shirt, and paisley tie, beneath a peach-colored argyle sweater. Muscles bulged the arms of his shirt and the col ar around his neck. He had dark skin, black spiky hair, and deep green eyes.
“I’m waiting for my son.” She pointed to the ice where Conner once again stood between Sam’s skates.
“You’re Conner’s mother?”
“Yep.”
“I’m Julian.” He sat next to her. “And I believe you’re planning my wedding.”
“Oh.” She took in his pastel sweater, and said, “You’re Bo Ross’s fiancé.” She stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”