Lakeshore Legend: The McAdams Sisters, #2

By Shannyn Leah

I don't want a thing to do with Colt Patterson-the town's Hockey Legend.

Except I've had a crush on him since we were little.

Recently, we also had a nice little romp in the shower together.

 

 

I'm just another notch in Colt's belt

I'm not going to fall in love.

Love is just a game and it destroys people.

I'm focused solely on the new all natural soap store I'm opening with her sisters.

NOT on Colt Patterson.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shannyn Leah
• Release date: Jul 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9798215256305

Shannyn Leah

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR, Shannyn Leah welcomes you to her small town of bad boys and smart, sassy heroines. Contemporary romance with the perfect blend of humor, heart and heat.  To be notified when new books, exclusive excerpts and contests are released, join her mailing list here: http://www.shannynleah.com/newsletter-and-secret-access-club.php

Book preview

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Chapter One

PEYTON

HOCKEY LEGEND, MY ASS. I peer around the sheer white curtains hanging in the window of my soon-to-be-open business: The Old Town Soap Co.

My attention is snagged on the outdoor ice rink the town constructs and maintains every winter along the beach shoreline.

It’s not the rink that has my attention. Or the beach hut, where people warm up with hot cocoa and popcorn. It’s the long lineup beside the rink where Colt Patterson is signing autographs.

More like Hockey-Has-Been, I mutter to myself.

I’ve stood here longer than I care to admit staring at the distant figure I can hardly make out. Envisioning his sculpted sports body—naked. Ridiculous doesn’t even begin to sum up my behavior.

I’m hiding.

Yet, I’m not sure why.

It’s not like he’s going to see me and forget that he’s the most popular guy on the beach to say hey Peyton, I’ve been meaning to call you. And he certainly isn’t going to add an I’ve missed you. Because he hasn’t meant to call me and he certainly hasn’t missed me.

What are you doing? I jump when my twin sister sneaks up behind me. I didn’t hear her come inside, so she must’ve used the back door.

What are you doing? I don’t bother to look at her when Kate leans her hip on the wall beside me.

I would swoon over him too if I wasn’t happily married.

I wrinkle my face at her. I am not swooning.

Of course not. It’s not like he’s a huge deal in town—or the country—and you fell right into bed with him. She steps to a display by the door and restacks our line of exclusive Winter Wonderland soaps.

I ignore her comment and gaze back outside at the snowflakes dancing in the air. Has the whole damn town forgotten about the last season of his career?

People make mistakes. Hockey legends are no different. She rearranges the containers of coordinating Winter Wonderland body scrub and lotion.

There are mistakes, and then there’s being a total asshole.

So, we’re not here swooning; we’re here regretting. Clarification is key, Peyton.

He’s been suspended from the team under a dozen times. Not to mention his speeding car crash. Plus, the bar fight he was involved in?

Who said you weren’t good at research. She turns to me, holding a Winter Wonderland-scented candle. Or is it called stalking at this point?

I think I’ve come down with flu. I step away from the window and head around the long antique counter. I plant myself on a stool.

You’re going to bail on your family in fear of running into a one-night stand? Kate wanders over to the counter with me. She straightens the stack of kraft wrapping paper like she can’t keep her hands still.

No, I answer.

Good.

I’m going to bail because I have the flu.

You don’t have the flu. She tackles the bags next.

I sigh. Whatever happened to the twin code? Having my back?

Kate picks up a booklet, a.k.a. the escape plan, and opens Abby’s scribbled notes. Did you see this?

You’re changing the topic.

She spreads out the pages, and I admire our youngest sister Abby’s pen doodles beside the written catastrophe Kate is focused on. Hearts, flowers, circles, and doodles create.

Quite the artist.

"Abby was easily distracted.

Dad’s getting my old hockey stick for Rosemary. You know, the mini one? He’s still not here. Want to come with me to get it? Much better than standing around like a peeping tom. Sure, I’ll drive.

My Ford Escape is parked behind the shop.

We arrive at our childhood home in minutes. The houses in town are like picturesque cottages all year round, with wood fences, stone walkways, and vibrant flower beds. Willow Valley is a charming place. Even the older sections, like my dad’s street, have a unique character. Million-dollar properties line the lake, but those are for people like Colt Patterson.

I park behind my dad’s old truck.

He’s home, I point out.

Dad welcomed me back to his four-bedroom house. I’m staying in my old bedroom until the shop is running—no need to rent a condo in the city or find a place in town. Winter cleaning was necessary, and now it feels fresh.

Seen the stick? Kate follows me to the back door.

Maybe in the laundry room cupboard. Above the washer and dryer, with the hats and mitts.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. I impulsively remove my hat, fluff my long brown waves, put it back on, tilt my head, pucker my lips, and then realize why I’m fussing over my appearance—Colt.

I’m like countless other women in town, doing the same thing. I wave at the mirror as if dismissing it before heading into the kitchen.

Kate is distracted by a plate of cookies. Who made these? They’re delicious.

I shrug. The cookies weren’t here this morning. Maybe Dad picked them up at a bake sale in town before searching for your mini-stick.

Oh, right. Kate puts the plastic cover over the plate. The laundry room, thanks. She rushes out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Don’t make a mess, I call after her.

Kate turns, crossing her heart with her fingers. We’re in a hurry, and everyone’s waiting, but I promise not to make a mess.

Her words lack sincerity, and I imagine her dragging all the boxes down, rummaging through them, mixing everything up, and undoing all my cleaning progress.

Wait! I catch up to her in the hall. I’ll just show you.

I can handle it. Her glossy lips curl into a deceptive smirk.

I step in front of her. I don’t believe you, and I’ve spent hours decluttering for Dad.

I’m insulted. For years, I kept this house in check. You weren’t a Molly Maid back in the day, my sister says. More like ‘see spot run— Kate’s sentence is cut short when I push open the door.

Our father’s pants are down around his ankles, and he has the next-door neighbor hoisted on the dryer—AKA Colt Patterson’s mother.

Chapter Two

PEYTON

ELAINE PATTERSON SCREAMS

I scream.

Kate screams.

Even my dad makes a growly sound.

Get out! He tries to cover the neighbor’s naked body pressed against him.

Flesh is everywhere.

Heavy breathing fills the air.

Nudity is unavoidable no matter where I look.

The moment feels like an eternity, but it lasts only seconds. I turn, colliding with my sister, whose eyes dart in every direction with the same horror. We stumble awkwardly back into the hallway while our dad yells at us to shut the door.

Still pressed against Kate, I’m unsure how I reach behind me and slam the door.

We stop moving.

Kate’s hands grip my shoulders tightly, and we lock eyes with open mouths and shocked expressions.

Our dad is having sex with the neighbor in the laundry room—my regular laundry room.

Laughter bursts out of us uncontrollably.

We can hear you! Our dad shouts through the door.

We stifle our laughter but can’t wipe the smiles off our faces. It’s a child’s worst nightmare—walking in on something like this.

We push each other down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Kate mouths, Did you know about this?

I shake my head. I had no idea.

Is it serious?

Are they a couple?

How long has this been going on?

All these questions bounce around like those annoying bells on business doors. I’m not too fond of those bells. I’m not fond of whatever is happening in the laundry room.

Our eyes land on the plate of cookies, and we both know exactly how it got there.

We should wait outside.

Outside? That’s not weird, Kate.

Because going outside would be the weirdest thing to happen right now. Laughter bubbles out of my sister all over again.

Shut up! I grab her arm and drag her into the modest living room.

Dad’s living room is simple yet cozy, with a leather sofa set, a flat-screen TV, and a three-piece wood coffee table set. The walls are adorned with cherished family photos, capturing the special moments of my niece Haylee’s birth and Rosemary’s arrival. It’s a space filled with memories and a comforting sense of familiarity.

We hover by the front door.

I just cleaned that dryer. I make a face.

I would clean it again before you use it, Kate teases.

I playfully slap her. And I would sanitize the table and countertops. I mean, for that lady’s age, I’m shocked she climbed on the dryer. The kitchen table would be nothing in comparison.

I try to banish the images from my mind. Stop it.

I can’t believe Dad still—you know.

I hold up my hand. Gross, Kate. What is wrong with you? I live here.

I don’t need to imagine images of my father and Elaine doing anything anywhere in this house.

Bye, Peyton. Bye, Kate, Elaine calls from the kitchen.

Thankfully, our positions keep us out of sight and out of awkwardness.

We share an amused look. Bye, Elaine, we reply in unison.

The back door shuts, and our father appears at the living room entrance a few seconds later. He’s fully dressed but slightly shaken. He runs his hand through his wavy, coarse brown hair peppered with grey.

Dad? we question together.

Girls. He looks uncomfortable.

This is the first time since our mom passed away over fifteen years ago that another woman has been in his life.

I would be ecstatic for him if he had chosen anyone else to fill his lonely nights—or days.

If their relationship was serious, I can already envision my future: forced gatherings, holidays, Christmas, and Easter—sitting across from Colt,

And if the sex with Colt hadn’t been so damn amazing, maybe I could get him out of my mind.

I bet that’s what all the women say.

What’s going on between you two? I have to know how serious this is.

Elaine and I were um—just—well—

Tapping? Kate supplies.

I would laugh if it weren’t Elaine he’s tapping. Instead, panic fills my chest, suffocating and preventing me from enjoying my sister’s teasing.

How am I supposed to sit at a table across from Colt for an entire meal without picturing water droplets tracing down his biceps on every area I have touched?

It’s more than—Dad pauses, trying to think of another word but finally settling with—tapping.

Shit.

Kate struggles to stifle her laughter, attempting to maintain a serious expression.

I nudge her with my elbow and shoot her a stern glare before returning to our visibly embarrassed father. Don’t say tapping, Dad. What do you mean it’s more?

We’ve been seeing a lot of each other. He rubs the back of his head, making little eye contact.

Like dating?

He nods, a glimmer of relief crossing his face. Yes, we’re dating. I guess you could call her my girlfriend.

Long-term girlfriend? I press.

Yes, he confirms firmly.

I cross my arms, trying to process the information. So, a long-term girlfriend who will attend family gatherings moving forward?

Kate shoots me a quizzical look. Is there another kind?

I’m just clarifying, Kate.

Yes. Our dad leaves no room for doubt.

Great. That’s settled. My one-time fling has become a staple in the family.

Seriously, Dad, I do laundry in those machines. I’m desperate to divert my mind from thoughts of Colt.

He clears his throat. I’m going to leave now. The mini-stick is on the kitchen table. Elaine and I will meet you at the beach hut for lunch.

That darn mini-stick is responsible for all these unexpected events.

Do you want a ride? Kate offers.

I’m driving Elaine.

Does he have to make it public now?

While Colt is in town?

I need more time.

It’s all because of that damn mini-stick.

That’s sweet. Kate follows our dad to the kitchen.

I lag, my mind racing to figure out which holiday comes next. Easter. Maybe I can pretend to be sick that Easter weekend. That is, if Colt even comes home.

While my dad leaves for the neighbor’s house, Kate and I climb back into her vehicle

He’s driving her to the festivities. The heater purrs when she switches on the ignition. Like a date. It’s cute for their age.

I don’t think it’s cute. It slips out before I can stop myself.

Why not? The window wipers spring to life, cutting through the snow veil that obscures the windshield.

You know why not.

Kate grins.

I’m glad when the shop comes into view because Kate seems to remember her daughter is waiting for the darn mini stick, and together we rush across the road. Some family is waiting on the snow-covered beach by the skating rink. Kent and Elaine are nowhere to be seen.

Abby raises her studded-covered arms and shouts, Hello, sistas! She’s a rebel, dressed in black, and loves anything studded.

Marc holds Rosemary, a recently united family member who fits in perfectly. The curly brown-haired five-year-old came into our lives before the new year when Kate and Marc rekindled their love.

I’m better at work. Babies and kids aren’t my thing. Love and romance annoy me, especially when Colt pops into my thoughts.

I hug Rosemary, and she giggles. Hi, Aunt Peyton.

Are you excited for the wagon ride? I ask.

Rosemary nods enthusiastically. I’m going to see Colt Patterson! She rattles off his team, position, goals, and stats, leaving me behind.

Kate pulls the mini-stick from her purse and hands it to Rosemary. For Colt Patterson to sign.

She forgot to mention that little detail to me.

I’m starving. Abby opens her phone. Wait, there’s Dad. She waves before abruptly stopping. Why is he holding the neighbor’s hand?

Kate and I share a chuckle.

What did we miss? Their middle-aged sister Sydney snuck up behind me and squeezes my arm.

Don’t you want to know? I turn to my niece for a hug. Hey, Haylee.

She’s the spitting image of her mom except for her brown eyes.

So what’s so funny? Abby demands.

We’re going to wait in the lineup. Kate tugs Marc’s jacket sleeve and pulls him away.

I blurt out everything—except any part about Colt.

You did not. Sydney covers her shocked grin. They were not.

That’s so gross. Abby’s face scrunches in disgust, then a big smile appears. Go, Dad.

How long has this been going on? Sydney asks.

I shrug. We didn’t talk about it.

Look at them. Abby’s high-pitched voice circles us. They have that post-sex glow.

Abby, Sydney scolds, signaling with her eyes toward her daughter.

Abby waves her hand dismissively. Please. At her age, you were almost pregnant. Pretty sure she knows all about sex. It would be weird if she didn’t know.

I can pretend I don’t know. Haylee covers her ears with her gloved hands.

Sydney pulls her hands down. That never worked anyway, and they’re coming this way. She waves them over.

I was thinking of cracking a new mommy joke. Abby rambles a couple off.

No. Sydney sends our youngest sister a warning look.

But they would be hilarious. Another joke garners Abby a nudge from Sydney.

I can’t help my grin as I turn to face our dad and Elaine.

They do have a glowing look about them.

I can’t tell if it’s the Jack Frost nipping at their faces or if they had another make-out session before getting out of the car.

Elaine and Kent hold hands as they approach. Elaine appears youthful compared to Kent despite her greying hair elegantly twisted into a bun. I can envision giving her a chic bob to accentuate her features. My once handsome father carries the visible marks of his past years of drinking, although he has now stopped. The effects of his previous habits are still evident.

Hello, Daddy. Elaine. Abby’s hint of knowing something adds an air of peculiarity to her demeanor. I’m starving. Let’s go eat.

The ladies at the auxiliary club are hosting a lunch at the Beach Hut, Sydney suggests.

Where’s Kate? Dad scans the beach, searching among the crowd.

Haylee points to the lineup by the ice rink. Colt Patterson is signing autographs. Rosemary knows all about Colt Patterson.

Elaine smiles proudly, but I wonder if she’s oblivious to the reality. Colt hasn’t had much to be proud of since retiring. He’s just like his father, who abandoned him and his mother for a younger woman when Colt was young.

If you grab seats, I’ll tell Kate where to meet us for lunch. I don’t know why I offer—so much for steering clear of the town’s hockey legend.

Ignoring him seemed easy initially since he had done it to me for years. But now—

Stay focused, Kate.

Everyone is heading in for lunch.

Kate’s eyes widen, surprised to find me here. Join the club.

I go against my better judgment and find him at the head of the lineup. He stands tall, his muscular figure filling out his black jacket and jeans. A toque with his name embroidered on it covers his medium-length hair.

Then, as if he senses me, he looks straight at me. There’s no mistaking it. His stare lingers too. And his lips quirk up at the corners.

I thought you said he’s not interested in you, Kate whispers. He looks very interested.

I’m not interested in him. I break the contact and storm away.

Chapter Three

COLT

I WATCH MY CHILDHOOD neighbor slink out of the lineup like a terrified mouse fleeing from a menacing cat.

Meow.

Our eyes briefly lock—a mere second. We’re less than twenty feet apart, and I can sense the intense desire and overwhelming confusion swirling in Peyton McAdams eyes before she retreats—confusion and desire.

I can relate.

I noticed her black leather jacket’s snugness and tight pants accentuating her