"That's him," Leif said, pointing. "He has a grudge with the D-man from the opposition. Someone is going to pick a fight tonight." He looked excited at the prospect.
"So he holds grudges and you don't?" I asked.
"Exactly," he agreed. "Mikko is the asshole in the family. I'm the nice guy."
Forrest snorted.
"Now who's trying to cast aspersions on whose reputation?" Leif asked.
Forrest raised his hands. "I didn't say a word."
"You didn't have to," Leif told him. He leaned past me and poked Forrest in the thigh. "You know what they say. A snort tells a thousand words."
"I think that's 'picture,'" Forrest said.
"Picture, snort, whatever," Leif leaned back and crossed his legs at his knees. "I hold a grudge sometimes, but nothing like my brother. He'd high stick the kid who stole his crayon when he was seven. Seriously though, the D-man he hates? He's a total asshole. I think he put the ass into hole, or the hole into ass, whatever. Garrett Ryan is a total prick. He deserves to have his face punched."
"Who deserves to have their face punched?"
I startled at the familiar voice.
Woody stepped into the box, closing the door behind him before glaring at the three of us. Me in particular.
"We were just talking about you," Leif said, grinning.
"I fucking dare you," Woody said. He smirked at me, then turned to Forrest, his expression clearly saying, 'what the ever-loving fuck is she doing here?'
"You can join us," Forrest said easily. "You remember Sable Kohl."
"I remember Woody from such moments as 'him trying to kill me,'" I said. Was he armed right now? No, he would have had to go through arena security like the rest of us, right? Of course, he still had hands, feet, and muscular thighs which looked strong enough to break heads.
What did I have? A nice hot bowl of nachos. I supposed I could throw it at him and run. I doubted I'd get very far, though, not to mention if the men to either side of me were working with him…
I looked from one to the other. Neither jumped out of their chair, trying to grab me by the arm to hold me down for him.
Yet.
"He's on his best behavior tonight," Forrest said. "Right, Woody?"
"I'll think about it."
Woody hooked an ankle around a chair and pulled it a couple of feet away from us before flopping down into it and lounging, legs stretched out, arms crossed.
"Depends how much she's going to fuck with you two tonight," he said. "I'm just here to watch hockey."
"I'm here to watch hockey too," I said.
However good Mikko Larsen was at holding a grudge, Woody seemed even better. It didn't help he was attractive, even scowling at me the way he was.
He used to be your stepson,I reminded myself.
If I had to guess, I'd say he was a handful of years older than me. Was that why Wolfgang hadn't mentioned him? Did he think I was going to run off with someone closer to my own age? Given the opportunity, I absolutely would have, but not with a man who looked at me like he wanted to throw me out of the box.
"I've heard that before," Woody said.
"Just a suggestion, but you should tell yourself that," I said. "I don't want any trouble."
If anything, his scowl intensified.
