Wedding Rings & Champions: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 8)

by Heather C. Myers

  "Oh." Natalie curled hair behind her ear before she shifted her weight. "I was just over dealing with Bruce. He had the nerve to send me an email discussing mediation and possible support."

  "As in, you pay him?" Cam clarified.

  Natalie nodded. She could feel her face heat up from anger just thinking about it.

  "We need to get you a drink," Drew said.

  "Honey, we're going to do more than drink." Cam fiddled with her gold necklace before dropping her hand and adjusting her shoulders. "Kat already reserved bottle service at Hush, we just need to get ready. They are going to serve us champagne that cost two thousand dollars, do you know what I mean? That is the stuff you get drunk off of after your cheating ex-asshole even brings up the fact of you supporting him. I mean, what bullshit."

  "Yeah," Natalie said, nodding her head. She glanced between Cam and Drew. "I'm sorry, but what's Hush?"

  Drew placed a hand on Natalie's shoulder. "Oh," she murmured. "An oasis in your chaotic life. Tell me: did you being a little black dress."

  Natalie blinked. "To be honest," she said. "I don't think I brought any dresses with me. I wasn't sure what to expect. I don't think I even own a dress. Why? Can't I wear jeans, or -"

  "Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on how you look at it - Vegas has a strict dress code and, for the most part, jeans are not allowed in their nightclubs," Drew said. "But don't worry. I think you're the same size as Celeste. We might be able to borrow a dress from her."

  Natalie opened her mouth to object, but closed it. She came here to forget her problems with Bruce, to let loose and forget the rules and what was right, and what she should do. She wanted to be free. She wanted to go just a little bit wild before she needed to put on a suit, go back to work, and respond to Bruce's mediation request. The next seventy-hours were for her to do something different. If that meant borrowing a dress, so be it.

  - - -

  In all honesty, Natalie was not expecting the dress to be so short. And low cut. And tight. She didn't expect the amount of makeup Drew put on her face or how high the heels Cam let her borrow. She didn't realize how long it took to straighten her shoulder-length brown hair. She didn't realize the detail and the time that went into getting dressed up for a few hours.

  But it was fun. She got to know Drew's cousin better and she felt included right off the bat even though she was at Celeste's bridal shower as a stranger.

  "Ladies, it's eleven thirty," Kat said, picking her head up from her thin, gold wristwatch that wrapped around her rest. "Are we ready? Our reservation is for eleven thirty, and I'm hoping that they'll let us skip the line since our names are on the list, but we need to be on time."

  They walked out of the room and headed downstairs. Natalie was fascinated to learn the nightclub was located in the hotel. She felt her heart pound against her chest, though she wasn't sure why she was nervous other than the fact that she had never worn something so sexy in her life and she felt slightly awkward when she noticed people - usually men - staring at her. It made her feel like she had something in her teeth or her butt was showing because of how short the dress was. She couldn't stop playing with the hemline until Cam reached out and clasped Natalie's hand.

  "You're gorgeous," she said in a low voice. "Believe it."

  As though belief could be so simple.

  However, stepping out of the elevator, Natalie rolled her shoulders back. Why couldn't belief be easy? It had been easy for Bruce to cheat on her after eight years together. It had been easy for Natalie to promote up the ladder at work. If she believed she was sexy - really believed it - that could be easy as well.

  They walked to the front of the long line and were immediately ushered in. No one in their party had coats to check in so they were escorted up black stairs to a quieter place filled with booths, black, glass coffee tables, and less people. The music was so loud, it was difficult for Natalie to even be able to think much less hear what everyone was saying. Judging from the smiles on their faces, they seemed excited to be here - which Natalie could understand.

  Once they were at their booth, they piled in. Natalie went first, only so she could claim a seat on the edge. Their pretty hostess left to fetch flutes.

  "Oh my God," Drew said. Her eyes were on the booth next to them, and her body had gone stiff. "Oh my God."

  "What?" Celeste asked. "You can't just react that way and leave us all hanging, Drew. What do you see?"

  "I think that's the Newport Beach Seagulls." She nodded her head at the booths she was talking about. "Look, there's Brandon Thorpe." The booth all turned to look. "Don't make it obvious that we're talking about them!"

  "How do you even know about the Seagulls?" Cam asked, nudging her friend. "I thought you were an Orange County Crush fan."

  "Isn't that soccer?" Lizzie asked, leaning forward to catch eyes with Drew.

  "Yes," Drew said. "Just because I am in love with Diego Esteban does not mean I don't know my sports. I was born in Anaheim. I've lived in Orange County my whole life. Being raised by a single dad, sports sticks with you. That is definitely the Gulls."

  "Didn't they win the championship?" Cam asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.

  "You bet your ass they did," Drew said. "First time in their history, too. Not surprised they're here. Of course they would want to celebrate."

  Natalie felt herself smile, curling a strand of hair behind her ear. She remembered Bruce used to yell at the television watching Gulls' games. She didn't understand the passion for something he couldn't control, but seeing these men drinking and smiling and laughing with each other, Natalie felt an odd sense of happiness spread throughout her body. She was happy for the team. In a way, she was happy for Bruce - even if she was angry and annoyed and hurt.

  "Where's the champagne?" she asked, turning away from the booth of athletes to look at her friends.

  "A woman after my own heart," Celeste said. They had to shout to hear over the music. "The hostess should be back soon. What was her name? Carly?"

  "Kylie?" Lizzie asked, shaking her head.

  "No way." Kat shook her head. "I'm pretty sure it's Kaylen."

  Regardless of what her name was, the hostess came back with chilled flutes, popped the bottle of champagne, and filled the glasses.

  "Are we celebrating anything tonight, ladies?" the hostess asked, handing Natalie a flute before filling up another one for Drew.

  "Besides the fact that this lady is getting married next weekend" - Kat pointed to Celeste - "we're celebrating friendship. And fun. Definitely fun."

  Natalie slowly brought the glass to her lips. "And freedom," she murmured under her breath so only she could hear.

  Once the drinks were poured and glasses clinked in a toast, the hostess disappeared and the party settled back down in their seats.

  "I think we need more drinks," Kat shouted.

  "I'll get them!" Natalie said, shooting to her feet. She pulled her clutch - a lender from Lizzie - to her chest. "Shots all around?"

  "You don't have to do that, Nat," Cam said, standing. "We're celebrating Celeste getting married but we're also celebrating your freedom. Drinks are on us."

  "No way," she insisted. "I'm happy to be here. Thank you." She looked at Celeste. "I know you don't know me but thanks for letting me be here."

  "Girl, any friend of Drew's is a friend of mine," Celeste said, waving a dismissing hand and finishing the contents of the champagne.

  "Shots," Natalie said again.

  "I'll come to help carry," Cam said. "Thank God there's a bar up here. As good as we look, heading downstairs and trying to get a drink would be madness."

  Natalie and Cam made their way across the second-story room until they reached a corner where a much smaller, less crowded bar was. There were only two bar tenders - rather than the five downstairs - and there were only a few people in line. Two tall, bulky guys stood in front of Cam and Natalie. From what she could see, they were both broad-shouldered, muscled, and dressed well. One h
ad short, auburn hair while the other was blond with a man-bun. Natalie nearly rolled her eyes. A man-bun? Seriously? She only saw those in advertisements of men's cologne, and even the majority of the models couldn't pull that off.

  "What can I get for you?"

  Natalie snapped her eyes away from the two men in front of her and saw that one of the bar tenders was looking directly at her. Natalie had to glance over her shoulder to be sure she wasn't seeing things. She stepped forward.

  "Aren't they next?" she asked, tilting her head in the direction of the two men.

  "We're being helped," the blond one said. He had a low, playful voice, and from her peripheral, Natalie could make out sky-blue eyes and a chiseled jaw. "But thank you, that's very kind."

  "Oh, okay." She rested her forearms against the bar and moved closer so the bar tender could hear her. She felt Cam move on the other side of her. "Can I get six shots, please?" She popped open her clutch and was about to pull out her debit card when the blond man slapped a credit card down on the surface of the bar.

  "Let me," he said. "For your consideration."

  "Wow," Cam said, staring up at him with her own blue eyes. "That's very generous of you."

  "What are you ladies celebrating?" The second man - slightly shorter than the blond by an inch or two - asked.

  "One of our friends is getting married," Cam said.

  "I'm sorry." The second man lifted his own shot glass and downed it. Natalie saw Cam make an annoyed face.

  "Six shots," the bar tender said. He took the blond's card as Natalie and Cam gathered the drinks in their hands.

  "Thanks again," Natalie said as she walked past him.

  She could feel those blue eyes on her the whole way back to her booth, and maybe it was her imagination, but she could have sworn he said, "Don't be a stranger."

  Chapter 5

  Chris couldn't stop thinking about the girl from the VIP bar. Not the tall one with the long blonde hair and the even longer legs, but the petite one with brown hair and the little black dress. There was something about her he couldn't get out of his head and he wasn't sure what that was.

  After grabbing drinks for his teammates, he and Peter headed back to their booth and, along with the help of a waitress and her tray, began to disburse them to the team. He happened to notice that the woman was at the booth next to him, handing out her own shots that she had gotten for the women, and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger as she downed the shot. She made a face after finishing and the corners of his lips tugged up in amusement. She clearly wasn't used to shots.

  "Boys!" a voice exclaimed. "Boys!"

  Chris ripped his eyes away from the brunette and turned to look at Zachary Ryan. He already had his shot glass in the air.

  "To us," he said. "To the Gulls. To first-time Stanley Cup Champions."

  They clinked tiny glasses and threw their drinks back. The transparent liquid burned Chris's throat as it made its way downward, but Chris didn't care. He was already ready for another.

  - - -

  After four shots, Chris was ready to move. He had this buzz of excitement coursing through his body and he needed an outlet or he was going to go stir crazy sitting around. He bobbed his knee up and down as his eyes found the brunette once more. He couldn't stop looking at her.

  What was wrong with him?

  This club with filled with beautiful women, some of whom had come up to him and asked to buy him a beer, asked him to dance, asked him for a picture or an autograph. And all he seemed to care about was the woman in front of him, in that eye-catching little black dress, who hadn't looked back at him the whole time she was here.

  It wasn't as though Chris expected her to. Some women, after all, weren't interested in him for their own reason, and that was perfectly fine with Chris. If they weren't interested in him, he usually wasn't interested in them. It was a mutual thing. But this woman with the brown hair and the black dress...

  "Stop staring and just ask her to dance," Peter said.

  Chris nearly spilled his fifth shot. His head was light and bubbly and it was getting more and more difficult trying to hide the fact that he was staring at her.

  "She doesn't seem like the type of girl to dance with strangers," Chris said. Hearing his voice come out of his mouth, his brows shot to his hairline. His voice was slurred like a pirate's. He hadn't realized he had consumed that much alcohol in such a short amount of time. Maybe his fascination with the woman had to do with him being drunk.

  "First of all, she's not a child and you don't drive a white van or hand out candy," Peter said as though it was obvious. He picked up his beer from the low, black table and took a long sip. "Secondly, she's at Vegas - probably for a bachelorette party. I don't see a ring on her finger so she isn't the bride-to-be, nor is she married. Get another shot in you, stop being a pussy, and go over there. I don't think you realize just how good looking you are. Stop taking that for granted, man. There's a reason we call you Thor and it's not because we think you're a god."

  Chris suppressed a smile and grabbed another shot from the coffee table. Peter had a point. Music pounded against the walls as he leaned in the leather booth, contemplating how he should approach her. He was a winder on a professional hockey team and somehow, he was intimidated by a group of women. Was it because they didn't come over to him and his friends? Was he really as superficial as that? Did he really need approval before trying anything?

  "Do you want me to go with you?" Peter asked, nudging Chris's shoulder.

  "Would you?"

  Peter nodded. "Not gonna lie," he said, "I've been avoiding that booth like the plague because that blonde woman annoyed the shit out of me when we bumped into them in line, but I'd deal with her if it meant helping you out."

  Chris stood too fast and nearly fell backwards. Maybe tipsy wasn't the right word. There was a good chance he was drunk now. He could still think coherently but his brain felt fuzzy, like trying to see through a heavy fog. Regardless, he still intended to head over to where this woman was, and he felt more secure about the choice, knowing Peter would be with him. Which sounded ridiculous but apparently, even the booze didn't quite make him as brave.

  As they headed over, Chris tilted his head so Peter would be able to hear him. "The blonde one?" he asked. "You mean the one that looks like a supermodel? With the big smile? You have a problem with her?"

  "I can read people like a book, man." Peter brought his beer to his lips and took a long sip. "And her book says Fuck you, Peter. Don't even think about talking to me or I will ignore the shit out of you and make you feel inadequete."

  Chris laughed and rolled his eyes. When the two of them reached the booth, the women stopped talking and shifted their attention to Chris and Peter. Chris cleared his throat, drawing a blank at what he was going to say.

  Shit.

  "Well?" the blonde supermodel asked, her blue eyes lingering on Peter.

  "Well?" Peter asked. "Well? God, give him a minute, Becky!"

  "My name is Cam, you idiot," Cam said with a sneer.

  "I don't even know what your name is."

  "I just told it to you. Why would you go with Becky?"

  "Ladies," Chris interjected, deciding he needed to say something now before Peter ruined things. Chris had no idea how things got tense between Cam and Peter, but he supposed it didn't matter. He wasn't interested in the blonde or anyone else. He wanted to be around the brunette. "My name is Chris and this is Peter. We just won a very, very prestigious reward and we wanted to know if you would like to celebrate it with us."

  "Can we trade your friend for another one?" Cam asked. Her red headed friend smacked her shoulder but there was an amused smile on her face.

  "What are you celebrating?" another woman asked. She had dark hair and green eyes and sat between the bride - Chris could tell because of the sash around her chest and the short veil she wore in her hair - and another red head with brown eyes.

  "We won the Stanley Cup," Chris explained. He could
n't help the smile on his face as he said it out loud to total strangers. There was a surge of pride coursing through his bloodstream and he felt happy. Completely and indescribably happy.

  "Oh," the red head with the brown eyes said. "I thought some of you looked familiar. Congratulations, that's awesome."

  "Wasn't your game, like a few hours ago?" the blonde asked, but her focus was on Peter and not Chris.

  "Yeah, so?" he asked.

  "Aren't you out past your bed time?"

  "I am only thirty years old."

  "Does your face know that?"

  "Anyway, can we buy you some drinks?" Chris grabbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly awkward at the banter going on between Cam and Peter. "I see we're celebrating an upcoming wedding?"