After a dip in an ice tank and a scalding shower, I'm shocked to find that the VIP Lounge is still hopping. Usually after a loss the fans and special guests clear out rather quickly. But there are still at least fifty people in there as I saunter in. And the first person I notice is Olivia. She's sitting at a high-top table with Tenley and Mae.
Olivia's hair is wavy like she used a curling iron and half up in the front. She’s wearing jeans and Tate’s jersey again. And the fact that I wish it was mine annoys me. When someone wears your jersey it’s a sign of attachment I shouldn’t want with a bed buddy. I’ve never wanted it with one before.
“Hey! Come here often?”
The deep voice is directly behind me and when I turn I see nothing but chest. Well, a broad manly chest covered in a soft gray checkered dress shirt, opened at the top to reveal skin dotted with freckles. Grady Garrison is a ridiculous six-foot-five. The tallest in the league. When my eyes reach his face I find it smiling. Warmly. But also very casually. Grady is firmly in the closet and intends to stay there. He told me this the one time we hooked up at the All-Star game last year.
"Yeah. I come here all the time, but not usually too lose to a giant redhead," I reply and flash him a friendly smile because I've always liked Grady in a friendly way. The hookup was nice but there are no lingering feelings about it. I can’t say the same for his cousin. “You think just because your last name is Garrison you can infiltrate our private sanctuary?”
My tone is confrontational, in jest, which is why it doesn’t make Grady bristle. He runs a hand through his dark copper hair and then scratches his wild ginger beard and says, without missing a beat, “Yeah the name helps. But you should know by now I’m all about infiltrating private places. It’s what I do best.”
Oh okay. He’s going straight there. Do not pass go, do not collect a hundred dollars. Just straight to innuendo-ville. I did not mean to get on this train tonight. My eyes flick over to Olivia who has noticed I’m here. She’s sipping what looks like a Coke and eyeing me.
“If I recall, I was the one doing the infiltrating,” I reply quietly.
“Well if you want to go over the details, I’m at the Beverly Wilshire tonight,” Grady replies. “Team flew out but I’m staying an extra night to see family and I have a photoshoot for Bauer tomorrow.”
“I should be all in,” I say and pause. Because I’m not. Grady was a great time. He has the added bonus of being in the closet and wanting to stay there so there’s zero worry with him. But after being with Olivia… “But I kind of have this thing with someone at the moment and they’re here and…”
“Say no more. You already have plans.” Grady doesn’t look the least bit bothered or wounded by the information. “We’re cool.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“It helps that I just kicked your ass.”
“You barely lifted a finger,” I argue. “We didn’t give you the chance to count in that win.”
“Ouch.” His giant hand goes to the center of his chest like he’s been wounded. “That hurts more than knowing your new bed buddy is here.”
“No. They aren’t. I mean I did hook up with someone here but have no plans to do it again,” I explain and now his eyes are narrowing. “It’s just awkward because… well, I just… it’s awkward.”
“Hey! You giving Grady a hard time?” Olivia asks because suddenly she’s right in front of us, reaching past me to hug her cousin. “Great game. Congrats on the shutout? I’m allowed to say that word now, right? Because the game is over?”
"Thanks, Livvy, and yes. Saying shutout is only bad luck if the game isn't finished. You're basically cursing the goalie to let one in.” He squeezes her tightly with a warmth that lights up his eyes. Now I’m jealous he gets to hug her. When Olivia turns to me she smiles and gives me a quick jerky wave but nothing else. Which is fair. “Where’s the fam jam?”
“Back corner, except for Dad and Uncle J. They’re talking with the press.” She looks at me again, reaches out, and gently but firmly pokes me square in the middle of my chest. “With your dad.”
“What is it? Oldies night?” Grady quips.
“Shooting a quick promo for Bengay,” Olivia adds with a dazzling snarky smile.
“As long as it’s not for Viagra, it’s cool,” I add and they both gasp and follow it up with groans. “They’re getting celebrity endorsements now. A retired basketball player and a football running back from the nineties have both done Viagra ads.”
“Oh gross. Oh my God. I’m going to have nightmares!” Olivia proclaims.
“Liv are you getting scared by the big bad hockey player?” a teasing voice asks, and I see Olivia’s mom walking up behind her daughter and hugging her lightly from behind. Liv does what daughters do after the age of thirteen and rolls her eyes while struggling to break free. So her mom turns her attention to me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get your dad’s disarming charm? I mean, you clearly got his hockey skills, but is that it?”
"Hello, Mrs. Garrison."
“Caplan-Garrison,” Liv and her mother correct me at the same time.
“Sorry. Mrs. Caplan-Garrison.” I extend a hand and she shakes it more firmly than most men. “Nice to see you again.”
I have met Callie Caplan-Garrison a few times but I still feel like we should be formal. Especially now. She smiles as brightly and prettily as her daughter. “Just call me Callie. It’s easiest. Sorry about the loss. Tough one, but don’t let it steal any momentum. You guys are Cup champions for a reason.”
“Thanks. You should be a motivational coach,” I smile at her. “And sorry for scaring your daughter.”
“Shut it,” Olivia warns with a nervous laugh.
