Page 62 of The Big Puck

“I’m not going alone,” she says. “I’m going with Jason.”

“Going with your brother is worse than going alone, dear. Nothing against Jason.”

Lainey laughs, sounding like she’s about to travel around the world on an adventure, not about to attend a boring charitable gala the Portsmouth Whalers are sponsoring. If the event wasn’t for a good cause, I would find an excuse to stay home—or be anywhere else.

Aunt Hildie and Lainey aim their twin sunny stares at me, and I swear if I don’t melt now from the powerful glare, I must be made of stronger stuff than even I imagined. Or maybe I’m just that cold, like an impenetrable block of ice.

“You clean up well, Spence.” Lainey brushes a hand over the shiny lapel of my tux as if she has a right. The thaw is dramatic and instantaneous. I feel like Frosty the Snowman about to lose his soul and everything that held him together.

“You don’t have to wait,” she says. “I’m sure Jason will be here in a minute. Go ahead.” Her smile appears sincere and innocent, as if she doesn’t know I’d just as soon delay my arrival as long as possible. The less time I spend penned up in this tux and talking to sponsors with lots of money and not one ounce of hockey knowledge, the better. Because they will inevitably ask me questions they don’t really want to know the answers to and make rude excuses to walk away when I give them real answers.

If I could hang around with my players, it would be okay. These events weren’t so bad when I was a player because I and my teammates had each other to joke with, to amuse ourselves. But now that I’m Coach, I’m expected to devote my time to kissing ass, and that is hands down my least favorite pastime—unless it’s Lainey’s ass.

Fuck. Where the hell did that errant thought come from?

Oh yeah, she’s standing right in front of me, taunting me with her amazingly skimpy dress and mankiller scent.

“I’ll wait.”

Chapter 24

LAINEY

As soon as we arrive at the gala—because Spence followed me and Jason, and we all arrived at the InterContinental Boston Hotel to get valet parked at the same time —Spence is commandeered by Coach Kapinski and a group of staff. It’s a group where I’m the answer to the question what doesn’t belong? so I excuse myself immediately, and while Jason takes off, assuming I’m trailing him, I see Tina and join her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, clutching my arm. “Let’s stick together.”

It works for me, though I won’t say I’m intimidated—because hell no—it’s because she knows everyone, and I don’t. For her, sticking with me is a way to steer clear of her dad and his stuffy crowd of money people—her words, not mine.

We’re on the dance floor with every attendee under thirty when, despite our best efforts, her dad finds us and snatches her arm, pulling her to the side. I follow, my reflexive protective instincts kicking in.

“Tina, I think Jason Hall wants to dance with you.” Old man Gavonza gestures at Jason nearby on the dance floor, apparently not giving a shit that my brother is already dancing with a woman. No, that doesn’t bother Gavonza in the least, and I can’t help noticing Tina’s flinch as she turns away, her face pinking up good and hot as her dad waves in Jason’s direction.

“Mr. Gavonza,” I start, jumping into big sister mode. He ignores me and glares hard at Jason, who excuses himself and comes over, his reluctance palpable. When he sees me, he relaxes. And when his gaze meets Tina’s—well to say that he perks up is the G-rated version of his reaction.

Holding back a laugh, I look away. Maybe the old man knows what he’s doing—in this instance and only this one. In my mind, he’s still firmly in the bad guy camp until he extends Spence’s contract.

“Jason, I bet you don’t know my daughter is a world-class dancer—”

“Dad, don’t—”

Jason grins at Tina with obvious interest, stopping her embarrassed protest, and my grin pops out with the kind of borrowed giddiness like you get when you read a romance novel and the hero and heroine finally get together—except I know I’m being premature. But who cares? I have nothing to lose here, do I? When it’s not my heart on the line, I can indulge in all kinds of far-fetched and premature romantic fantasies, right?

My glance automatically zeroes in on Spence—because I’ve instinctively tracked where he is in the room at all times since I arrived. In spite of all the red flags, alerts, and alarms buzzing at me, my heart gives a momentary leap, picturing myself with him on the dance floor.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Jason says, reaching out a hand to Tina. Her smile trembles for a glimmer, then she lifts her chin and the corners of her mouth pop up as she takes his hand.

Once they take the dance floor, I’m left standing with Gavonza, which is a place I do not want to be. He has the most negative energy—and that’s the polite description—I’ve felt in a very long time, the kind I try to avoid at great lengths.

His beady eyes track to mine, and the slow snarling look, the baring of his teeth in what’s supposed to be a smile, triggers an evil chill to run up my spine. Frozen for a second, I’m about to flee—only because a gala is no place for a fight—when I feel a strong calming presence come from behind me, swooping in as if Superman just landed with his cape swirling the air around me.

“Gavonza.” Spence nods, no smile, no bared teeth. Yet somehow, he manages to radiate such intimidation that Gavonza takes a step back, his face falling into a grimace and then going neutral to match Spence’s. “You don’t mind if I dance with Lainey, do you?”

“Why should I mind? It’s your reputation—”

“There’s no reputation issue here,” I say, my voice adamant and full of insulted outrage. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, Mr. Gavonza.”

The man goes for a placating smile, but it’s as patronizing as it is insincere. I would have stayed to spar with the horrible man, except Spence tugs me, and gently placing a hand at the small of my back, he leads me onto the dance floor.