I turned my back a little bit so I wouldn’t be at risk of meeting his eye. “I thought I was pretty familiar with the roster,” Gracie was saying. “But I don’t think I know of a Poang.”
Jay cracked up while Karlsson rolled his eyes. “It’s not my real name. This dumbass over here thinks it’s hilarious to call the team’s only Swedish player by the name of a piece of Ikea furniture.”
“Ikea is Swedish,” Jay argued. “It makes total sense.”
“It’s a fucking chair,” Karlsson shot back.
“Hey, man, it could be worse. I was thinking about calling you Meatball.” Jay got a dreamy look in his eyes. “I love Ikea meatballs.”
“Ignore him,” Karlsson advised the girls. “And please call me Henrik.” He shot a glare at Jay. “As it is my actual name.”
“Hockey players are kind of notorious for nicknames,” I explained. “No one in that locker room is called by their real name.”
“Exactly,” Jay said. He pointed to a D-man by the bar. “That there is Ken McDonald—we call him Nuggies, like the chicken nugget. Get it?”
Rosa snorted. “Yeah, I think I could figure that one out.”
Jay was still looking around the room. “Tall kid over there is Beans, ’cause he’s a string bean.” He pointed at our goalie. “We call that guy Enzo the Goalie. Because his name is Enzo and he’s the goalie.”
“Verycreative.” Gracie turned to me with laughing eyes. “And what’s your nickname?”
“These days we call this guy Cap,” Jay said, draping an arm over my shoulders. “Sometimes we call him Crunch. Like the cereal, you know, Captain Crunch. Sometimes it’s Steve, or Rogers, or just straight up Captain America.”
I shook off his arm. “You do realize that you are literally the only one who uses any of those nicknames.”
Jay shrugged unabashedly. “What can I say? I have a gift.”
“What did they call you in New York?” Grace asked. “You weren’t captain there.”
“Sticks,” I said. “Because my jersey number is eleven.”
“That’s kind of cute,” Rosa said, and Jay pinched my cheek.
“It sure is,” he cooed.
I knocked his hand away. “Your brother had a pretty cute nickname for me in high school,” I told Grace. “He always called me ass-wipe?—”
“Good evening, boys.”
I spun on my heel at the interrupting voice and sure enough, there was Andy Knight himself standing behind me. And from the flash in his eye, I was pretty sure he’d heard me. “Nice game tonight,” he continued. He nodded at Karlsson. “Excellent penalty kill.”
“Thank you, sir,” Karlsson said. “We felt pretty good out there.”
“Glad to hear it.” He directed his attention to the girls. “Grace, Rosa, there are a couple people I want you to meet.”
“Sure,” Gracie said, her voice noticeably high-pitched. Rosa must have heard the note of panic too, because I noticed her hand come up to pat her friends back in aget-it-togetherkind of gesture.
“It’s been really nice chatting with all of you,” Rosa said, waving to the guys. Grace shot me a fleeting, disappointed glance as she turned to go.
I was so busy watching her that I didn’t notice Andy leaning in closer until I heard his voice in my ear. “I’m pretty sure it was fuck-face, not ass-wipe.” Before I could react, he had turned to lead Grace and Rosa away.
I headed up to my room pretty shortly after that. The party was a lot less fun when I was watching Grace from across the room. Her brother apparently wanted to introduce her to all of the coaches, the front office staff, and half of the players. I was pretty sure he was just doing it to keep her away from me.
Fine. Let him monopolize her time at the bar. I had her all night.
CHAPTER 23
Istopped off at the concierge desk before I went upstairs, wanting to make sure that all of my plans had been carried out as requested.
