Page 10 of Tough Call

I had a split second to be sure I’d just talked him out of coming along, but then his smile returned.

“I rented a car,” he said. “I can meet you there. Do you know what time?”

I drew a blank. “Shit. No. I, uh… I can check with the guys when I get back to the hotel and text you?”

“Perfect.” He paused. “Should we, uh, exchange numbers? I just have you on that app.”

“Oh. Right. Good idea.”

We took out our phones, and I felt like a stupid kid for being this giddy over having Connor’s number.

As I pocketed it, I said, “I’ll text you as soon as I know a time.”

“Perfect.” He slid his phone into his coat, then gestured across the street. “That’s where I’m staying.”

I struggled to not let my disappointment show. “Okay. Well. I’m just a little farther…” I gestured down the block. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though?”

Oh, fuck. His smile.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

And as we continued in separate directions, numbers securely in each other’s phones…

I was looking forward to it, too.

CHAPTER 5

CONNOR

The Sedlec Ossuary was in Kutná Hora, about an hour outside of Prague. As soon as I left, I was both glad I’d gotten an international driver’s license before this trip and that I’d taken Madars up on the offer. The drive was gorgeous. The route I chose took me through sprawling, snow-dusted farm country that was dotted with tiny villages and small towns. After spending most of my time in big cities, I craved this kind of scenery. I didn’t have to go far from Calgary to see farm country, but I rarely had time during hockey season, and anyway, it was so much prettier out here.

Kutná Hora itself had a bit of a small-town-meets-big-city vibe; I drove past a mall and some very modern apartment buildings, as well as homes that wouldn’t have been out of place in the villages I’d passed.

And there, tucked into a cluster of buildings that were anywhere from modern to what must’ve been centuries old, surrounded by a high stone wall, was the church.

I parked in the small lot and walked in through a tall gate. The church had several black metal spires that looked more like Christmas tree toppers than the spires I’d seen in Prague. The latter were tall and sharp. The ones here were rounder and adorned with gold religious icons.

I thought there’d be a courtyard inside the gate, but instead, it was a snow-covered cemetery with large and ornate gravesites of all shapes and sizes. Some had wreaths on them. Others had flowers planted next to them, though they were currently cut back for the winter. I snapped a few photos on my phone of both the cemetery and the church, and I checked the time.

Almost eleven, so the guys should⁠—

“I still think you assholes are lying,” someone with a French accent was saying. “There’s no way they filled a church with bones.”

I turned around to see half a dozen men walking in wearing the jackets of various teams. Four from Team Switzerland, one from Team Norway, and⁠—

Ah. There. Carmine red and white: Team Latvia.

I smiled to myself as I headed in the direction.

“We’re not lying,” one of them said, his Italian accent heavy. “There’s one in Rome too.”

“What? Who the hell is decorating their church with bones? This is bullshit.”

The other guys laughed, talking over each other to get their friend to believe them.

Madars was one of them, and my God, I was a teenager all over again, hypnotized by that gorgeous hockey player’s smile.

If only teenage me could see him now. Jesus.