Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,49

me fully?

Ridiculous.

Yet what else could he have meant?

That was a week ago. Since then, he’s texted almost every day.

Good morning texts. Do anything fun today? texts. Even more mundane texts follow, like, Favorite food. Favorite color. Favorite movie and favorite show to binge-watch.

Uh. The Last Kingdom. Obviously. No one should have to ask that question. Ragnar… le sigh.

If he’s been offended I’ve rarely asked the same back of him, he hasn’t shown it, but if I’m not mistaken, I think he’s trying to get to know me. Slowly. Platonically. And I’m not quite sure what to do with that.

I’ve sent him texts after games, congratulating the team on their winning streak, the fact they’re now ahead by five games in their division is huge with six weeks left before playoffs begin.

And maybe I shouldn’t have teased him about being the best the other night, but I couldn’t stop myself. I expected something stupid back. Maybe a hidden talent like juggling, or that he’s a yo-yo master.

When I received his text back saying he wanted to see me, I froze. I stared at the phone.

Then I had no clue what to do. I really like this guy. He’s confused about his marriage. He’s absolutely the last person I should be spending time with or luring into conversations with flirtatious texts. I ignored it until I had a better response.

I haven’t heard from him since.

I do know that tomorrow is Saturday so I have got to get my shit together and fast.

“Georgia.”

My dad is standing across from the bar, brown envelope in hand several inches thick, a deep line digging into his forehead between his bushy brows.

I finish drying a glass and toss the towel onto the bar, wiping my hands down my hips. “What’s up?”

“We been talking about you liking working at the bar or if you want to do something different, right?”

“Not this again.”

“It’s not. Not exactly anyway.”

Based on his expression, this doesn’t sound good. “Okay…”

“I’ve been thinking about something for a while. Started thinking about it while you were gone, actually, but my heart and head couldn’t connect.”

“Spit it out, Dad,” I tease and flash him a smile, but it wobbles. It’s rare I see my dad uncertain or so serious.

“Thinking of retiring. Selling the bar.”

“What?”

My hands go to the towel on the bar and twist it in my fist. “But—”

“I want you to have it. If you want it.”

“Dad—”

“You don’t have to. And if you want, I can keep it but frankly, I’m getting too old for this crap and the late nights and the wondering if we’ll keep making it. And I don’t really like the idea of putting that pressure on your shoulders either, but I also can’t stomach the idea of it going to someone else. Or a business who wants to tear this place down. It might not be much, but it’s been mine for over thirty-five years, so I figure it should go to someone who’ll care for it. But if that’s not you—”

“It is.”

I grab the envelope he has without further thought. No way am I letting George’s go. There’s a table in the corner that has multiplication facts scratched into it from when I used to sit and do my homework for goodness’ sake. This is my home as much as it’s a bar.

My fingers tremble as I undo the clasp and slide out a thick stack of legal paperwork and I scan the top page which doesn’t say much except for the name of my dad’s law firm.

“You want me to buy George’s? I don’t have—”

“For one dollar. It’s easier that way. So if you want it, it’s yours.”

“Dad. Why so sudden?”

A rock sinks to my stomach. He’s been on me about this for months, and he’s been more tired lately. “Are you…?”

“Healthy as a horse, butterfly. I promise you.”

A weight falls from my shoulders and yet I’m still shaky, grin wobbling as I inspect him. He seems sad. Older. “Dad, if there’s something you’re hiding from me—”

“There’s not, I promise. I’m just old. Getting older. Slower. Want George’s to go to someone who will love it, but if it’s not you, I’m okay with that, too. Not asking you to decide tonight, but if you’re interested, take your time deciding if it’s right for you. You know I don’t like the idea of saddling you with something that might make you feel trapped someday but if you’re happy here, think you could be happy here, then there’s no one