“Sounds good.”
“One other thing. You can’t tell anyone about this. I’m locking down this facility tomorrow all day, so if staff asks you what’s going on . . .”
“I’ll say I don’t know.”
“Given the shit the last owner pulled, I hate keeping them out of the loop. But it’s only for a few hours. I plan on leaving them all tickets for the game at the box office.” He paused. “Do I need to have them hold any tickets for you?”
I oughta give Dani the chance to attend, even if she passed on it. It’d be a dick move not to include a ticket for Tyson. My former teammates Mariah and Amy would love to see me give trash-talking Amelie SanSimeon-Wipf—aka Asswipf—an ice facial or ten. “Four tickets would be great.”
“Done. Now finish out your class. If I send you home, Margene will get even more suspicious and she’ll be plenty pissed tomorrow when I give her the day off without explanation.”
A million things danced through my mind as I reentered the rink, but foremost was checking my stick stash and my game skates before practice in the morning. I’d just laced up my right skate when someone plopped down across the aisle from me.
“Heya, Coach,” Nolan said nonchalantly.
My head swiveled around. The instant my eyes met the intense blue of his, I felt a flutter in my belly and a warm tingle in my chest.
Which immediately morphed into panic when he said, “Everything okay? Margene said Jax called you into his office. He didn’t find out about your . . . Friday thing, did he?”
Friday thing. The interview.
Shit. How had I forgotten about the most important thing in my life of late?
I cleared my throat. “No, it wasn’t about that.”
Nolan relaxed. “Good.”
I noticed he still wore office attire. A trendy maroon-colored wool suit with wide plaid stripes a vivid blue that matched his shirt, and a vest that accentuated his blue-and-maroon-checked tie. His suit pants were the slim cut he favored, and he wore oxblood-colored oxfords and no socks. The man looked as if he’d walked off the set of The Bold and the Beautiful.
Not fair really.
“Gabriella?”
I’d secretly started to love the husky way he said my name. “Did you just finish working?”
“Yeah. Long day.”
“And you stopped by here . . . why? Mimi’s class is over. Are you meeting with Jax?”
“No. I’m here to ask if all went well with the handoff for the outfits today.”
I filed away that “he’s here to see me!” giddy feeling for later. “No issues, but I wasn’t expecting any given Q’s iron fist.”
“I warned you he’s a tyrant.”
“Hmm. He reminds me of someone else I know.” I tapped my chin in mock thought. “Who could that be, I wonder.”
“Guilty. Along those lines I came to make sure you plan on taking it easy tomorrow night before your big Friday thing.”
Uh no, I’m not. Actually, I’ll be playing hockey in the men’s league, a game which will likely be broadcast, as Amelie SanSimeon-Wipf and I break gender equality barriers and try to break each other’s bones.
Not that I could tell him any of that.
How pissed off would Nolan be tomorrow night when he saw me suited up in hockey gear and not at home pressing my interview suit, and shooting bullets at the net instead of going over the bullet points of my last questionnaire?
Plenty pissed off.
I didn’t answer; I focused on lacing up my left skate. Then I pushed to my feet and sidestepped onto the rubber mat. I smiled at him. “Thanks for checking on me, Nolan.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem off.”
“I am. I hate lying. I’ll just be glad when this is over.” I patted him on the knee before I stepped onto the ice. “Get some rest, Fancy Pants. You look like you could use it.”
Fifteen
NOLAN
Fancy Pants.
And a fucking knee pat.
Gabriella Welk was the hardest goddamned woman to read that I’d ever met.
On Monday, when we’d found the clothing she needed to give her a visual edge for this interview, she’d shown me a vulnerable side of herself I hadn’t expected.
She’d hugged me before she left.
And she’d held on.
And on.
During that wonderfully impromptu physical display, with her wrapped in my arms, her cheek to my chest, her hair tickling my chin, I was enveloped in the sweet cocoa bean, vanilla aroma that was all her.
I’d been thankful for the wool and down coats between us or she would’ve known how thoroughly her scent had aroused me.
Literally a dick move.
Not the first one I’d made one around her, probably wouldn’t be the last. The more time I spent getting to know her, via our crazy text messages and her in-person antics, the more I realized my dickish diatribe about her not being my type had been completely true.
Had been.
Because that brash, crude, hard, unforgiving, judgmental Gabi . . . wasn’t the real Gabi at all. Sure those attributes were part of her, but not all of her. Not even freakin’ close. She’d shown me the loyal, funny, honest, playful and dare I say . . . sweet? side of her that was at the core of who she was. I found those characteristics appealing as hell.
So lack of attraction wasn’t the issue for me now. Now I had it bad for her.
Real bad. Like show-up-at-the-damn-ice-rink-after- a-fifteen-hour-workday-just-to-see-if-I-could-get-her-to-smile-at-me kind of bad.
And when she had? I felt like I’d accomplished something monumental today.
This was after I’d negotiated a million-dollar discount on a software prototype LI was bidding on.
Just when I’d scrapped my idea to wait around and ask Gabi to dinner, my phone buzzed.
Caller ID read Ash.
I answered, “This is Nolan Lund.”
“Why do you insist on doing that when you know damn well it’s just me?” Ash complained.
Standing, I hustled up the incline that led out of the rink. “Maybe I’m someplace where I need to present a professional tone.”
“Wrong. You’re at the ice rink. I can hear the blowers going.”
“I stopped in briefly to get verbal confirmation for a snag I’d hit for my LCCO event this weekend,” I lied. “But it’s all good. So what’s up?”
“Honestly? I’m sick of my own company. Wanna grab a beer and some wings?”
“No work talk?”
“None.”
“Excellent. Where do you wanna meet?”
“The only place to have wings: Branyon’s.”
“See you there in twenty.” I wouldn’t have time to go home and change. But my motto had always been better to be overdressed than underdressed.
I cranked on my audiobook for the drive, letting it distract me from my day.
Branyon’s was busier than I expected for a Wednesday until I realized it was ladies’ night. Luckily Ash had already snagged a booth in the back corner.
“Hey.” I hung up my topcoat and then peeled out of my suit jacket before I sat down.
Ash eyed my shirt, vest and tie combo. “I’d look like a clown if I wore that. Looks great on you, however.”
“Thanks.”
“I ordered the appetizer platter, a dozen wings and a pitcher of Leinie’s.”
“Sounds good.”
The waitress showed up with two frosted glasses and a pitcher. She filled our mugs and bailed.
“So you’re sick of your own company, huh?”
“I’ve gotten into a rut.” He swigged from his mug. “I’m partially blaming you for that.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Nothing. That’s why I’m blaming you. We used to hang out all
the time. Then Jax returns to town—”
“And yanks us both up short for using his failing bar business as our personal Cheers when we were supposed to be acting like the businessmen we are and helping him make it profitable?” I took a drink. “I’ll take half the blame and the guilt.”
Ash ran his hand through his blond hair. “Wow, you’re really getting the hang of that.”
“The hang of what?”
“Of breaking something down to its basest level to root out the problem.”
I stared at him. “Jesus, Ash. Is that a compliment? Or an insult?”
“Both. Since I’m on the receiving end of both from you.”
“What? Right now? You’re not making any sense.”
“Never mind.”
Leaning in, I said, “Fuck that. I’m here. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
After a moment, he said, “It’s embarrassing.”
I didn’t cajole him; I merely waited.
“Fine. I’m jealous.”
“Of?”
“Of you and Jax spending more time together now that he lives here. Brady, Walker and Jens . . . you and me. We’ve hung out as a group our entire lives. For a while Brady and I were tight. Same with you and Walker. The three of them as brothers—no need to explain that. As the only girls, Annika and Dallas are more like sisters. Jax was an island of his own in Chicago. Which left you and me. Then when our cousins stared pairing off, we ended up hanging out more often. Which was cool, because we always got along. So like I said, now that your brother is back, it’s just me by myself, and it sucks.” He made rings on his bar napkin with the bottom of his glass. “I miss us doing shit together, cuz.”
Not what I’d expected. Since he’d bared all, I could too. “I won’t lie, it’s been great having Jax back in the Cities. Sober, he’s not a bad guy.”
Ash snickered.
“But the brotherly camaraderie I’d started to establish with him faded awful damn quick when he and Lucy decided to give it another go. Don’t get me wrong; I couldn’t be happier for them. But at the same time, I’m aware that if I don’t make the effort with Jax, he won’t. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Oh, he’d realize after a couple of weeks that he hasn’t really talked to me, then he’ll try and make up for it.” I paused. “Kinda like I’m doing now with you.”
“Nolan. Just—”
“Let me finish. After Jax took us to task for our lax handling of his bar, we avoided hanging out together for a while out of guilt. For me, it seemed that translated into a tense work situation between you and me at LI, especially after being named future CEO. You treated me differently, so did Brady. I’ve been careful to stay in my own lane since then. That’s not an excuse, Ash, it’s the truth. I hadn’t figured out a way to bring it up, so I just—”
“Decided working seventy-plus hours a week would prove your company loyalty?” Ash interjected.
“You know about that.”
“Christ, Nolan, I am the COO, it’s my job to make sure all the individual operations are running smoothly as part of the whole.”
My neck flushed crimson and I reached for my beer. After a big gulp, I said, “So is this where you tell me to cut back on my hours? That you trust me not to make another huge financial mistake?”
He shook his head. “You need to be able to trust yourself. If that means you put in a shit ton of hours learning and discarding methods to earn that self-confidence, so be it. I’ve been there. So has Brady. It won’t last forever, but man, when you’re in the thick of it, it might seem like an eternity.” He blew out a breath. “I thought we agreed not to talk about work?”
I shrugged. “We’re in a family business. But on the personal front, I’ll just say I’m glad you had the balls to bring this up and I’m sorry I’ve blown you off. I’ll do better.” I held my mug up and we toasted on it.
The food arrived. We jumped on it like hyenas so there wasn’t much conversation.
After the plates were cleared, we both switched to soda.
Ash sighed. “When’d we get so old that we stop at one pitcher of beer?”
“Sad, ain’t it.”
“Next we’ll be popping Viagra.”
“I wish Dallas was here to demand you counteract that suggestion you just sent into the stratosphere, lest the universe believes it’s a wish we want to come true,” I teased.
Ash looked at the ceiling. “I retract that popping Viagra joke, universe.”
“She is rubbing off on us.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve agreed to try yoga with her when she gets back from belly dancing in Bali or whatever she’s doing. I haven’t seen her since the night of the pre-party. Speaking of the party . . . after my mom busted me lying about having a date, I never found out why you were minus a hottie on your arm?”
My brain conjured Gabi’s image from that night. Not what she’d worn but the dismay on her face when she’d admitted she’d overheard the conversation at Buddy’s. I wanted to crawl in a hole after that. But she’d accepted my apology with more class than I deserved and then we’d had a great time. So technically, I did have a hottie on my arm that night—she’d just been twisting it instead of hanging from it.
“Nolan?”
I looked at my cousin. “Sorry. I’ve been reassessing that aspect of my life too. Let me ask you this. Do you think I have a specific type of woman I’m attracted to?”
Ash blinked at me. “Whoa. Really? You want my honest answer to that?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. You like ’em easy. Tall and leggy. Hair color doesn’t matter. Bra size doesn’t matter. Age doesn’t matter. Ethnicity doesn’t matter. Most often intellect doesn’t matter. You definitely don’t like them pushy. You’ve been like that kid at a birthday party, who sees all these beautifully wrapped boxes of presents lined up and you open them one right after another, not caring what’s inside because the next present might be better, it might have what you really want. But at the end of the day, you’re just sitting amid empty boxes and you can’t remember opening any of them.”
I think my jaw might’ve hit the table.
Ash backtracked. He set his hand on my arm. “It’s not like you’re an asshole to them or anything. You’re just upfront about them curbing their expectations when it comes to what you’re willing to give them. They get one night, maybe two, but that’s it. And a date doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll end up in your bed.” He paused. “Am I wrong?”
“No. For some reason I thought that honesty would make me seem less shallow. But when I see it from a different perspective, it appears I have the depth of a sidewalk puddle.”
“So make different choices going forward. Or don’t. This wasn’t a judgment call from me. You like what you like.”
The question was . . . why did I prefer women like that? Had it always been that way?
No. I clearly remember dating the cute, funny, clarinet-playing geeky girl in high school. I’d also spent the first few weeks of college crazy about an in-your-face theater major.
I vaguely recalled a dormmate, a guy I’d thought had serious game, telling me to level up. To date girls worthy of my stature.
Then I remembered Jax had given me advice—aim high. Don’t pick the low-hanging fruit because I’d develop a taste for them.
Apparently, I hadn’t taken his sage advice. Then again, neither had he until he’d gotten back together with Lucy.
“Nolan. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”
“You haven’t. It’s hard to hear the truth.”
“Tell me about it.”
My gaze zeroed in on him. “Not that I’m deflecting, but what is going on with you? Since when do you have trouble getting a date?”
Ash blushed. “Since the only woman I’m interested in is the last one who should ever be on my radar.”
“
Why?” Several years ago Ash had gotten involved with his secretary and it hadn’t ended well. I hoped for his sake he wasn’t headed down that slippery slope of mixing business and pleasure.
When he leaned in, his eyes were a little wild. “I can’t talk about it because it makes me crazy. So I’ll just continue trying to ignore it. And her.” He exhaled. “But goddammit. Some days—some nights, I’m like . . . but what if I’m missing out on something great?” He lifted his hand from the table in a stop gesture. “See? Even I can’t believe the mixed signals I’m sending. How the hell is she supposed to react?”
I reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m here whenever you’re ready to be less cryptic, okay?”
“Well, well, what do we have here?” a deep voice sneered above us. “A couple of queers holding hands. How romantic. Oh, my bad. I meant how disgusting. Why don’t you take your perverted PDA someplace else.”
I glanced up at the guy—late twenties, big and bulky, obviously used to pushing his weight around.
I’d been bullied growing up. Now, I pushed back. “Nah. We’re good.”
“I don’t think you understand, homo. I wasn’t asking. I’m telling you to get the fuck out. We don’t want your kind in here.”
“What kind is that? The minding-our-own-business kind?” I asked.
He bent down close to treat me to a nose full of his onion breath. “You’re about to get your sorry ass kicked.”
“This tough-guy bullshit doesn’t work on me. Back off now and I won’t have to embarrass you.”
“You? Embarrass me? That stupid-looking suit you’re wearing is already embarrassment enough. Did your boyfriend make it for you? Did you suck his dick to say thank you?”
The scene played out in my head, me grabbing him by the hair and smashing his face into the table. Could an EMT tell the difference between dried ketchup and dried blood?
Guess we were about to find out.
“I can’t exactly get out of the booth with you standing there, can I?” I’d been so focused on him that I hadn’t paid attention to his friends. Friends who stood behind him.
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