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Chapter Seven
Then
I really didn’tdig holiday parties.
I didn’t mind the booster club parties—the ones held at the bowling alley or wherever—but holiday parties were stuffier. We were expected to wear our pre-away game attire, and as someone who preferred his sweats and skates, slacks, button-downs, and ties were not my favorite.
Thankfully, Coach and the club were allowing us to ditch the ties and sport coats. If it were a holiday party just among the team, none of this would be required, but because it was a party for our fans, we were expected to put on a show.
I was messy-spiking my normally messy hair—I was low maintenance that way—in the half-bathroom of the house the boys and I were renting, when Jason Thompson came barreling into the apartment through the door across the hall. Dude didn’t even live in this complex, so what the hell he was doing here was beyond me. He’d have had to drive past the hotel where this shindig was being held, to get here.
I leaned out the bathroom door, watching as the rook moved into the kitchen, where he grabbed what I assumed was one of my beers, to shoot the shit with Caden.
Rook didn’t care for Caden’s big-name brews, and often gravitated toward my local microbrewery ones.
I was going to make him start paying, the shit; they weren’t cheap. Caden’s Milwaukee’s “Beast” was far easier on the wallet.
I stepped back into the bathroom to finish my hair and wash my hands, and when I headed into the kitchen, Jason was already gone.
Sure enough, as the bottle on the counter was an indication, the fucker took one of my beers—and only drank a quarter of it.
“He’s going to start paying,” I threatened, which only sent Caden into a deep laugh.
“You’ll forgive him.” There was something about the way Caden said it that had me pausing, but then pushing past it and ignoring the thought.
“That shit’s expensive.” I could afford it, but still. Respect.
“It’s a fall beer, Press; they’ve moved on to their winter lagers.”
“All the more reason to savor them.”
“Whatever. You done in the bathroom, Beauty? You’re such a fucking girl.”
I grinned crookedly, giving my friend the middle finger. “Hey, now, some of us like to look good.” I ran my hands down my light blue dress shirt, then tucked my hands in the pockets of my brown slacks. With a shrug and a grin, I added, “Can’t help that I’m pretty. You should probably stop breaking your nose.”
“Caro digs the ruggedness.”
“When is she due back, anyway?” Caroline Leigh, country superstar sensation, was headlining a West coast tour. When it wasn’t hockey season, and she wasn’t on tour, Caden and Caroline lived in Nashville—just like every one of her closest country crooning BFFs. I liked to give Caden shit about it. He was the furthest thing from a cowboy.
“She’ll be in town next Monday, and we’ll head down to her family for Thanksgiving Thursday morning.”
Shit, I hadn’t even considered that Thanksgiving was coming up. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to do with our big thirty-six hours off from the game. Thankfully, my family was only six hours north, so I could probably make that work.
“You make plans for the holiday? You hanging with Teague?”
I shook my head, moving to dump Jason’s basically untouched beer. “Nothing yet. We got a week.”
“Yeah. Hardly. We’ve got five days.”
My lips kicked up to the left and I nodded. “Yeah. Plenty of time.”
“Well,” Caden said, pushing away from the counter, “what we don’t have plenty of time for, is getting down to the party. We’re going to be fashionably late, so it’s a good thing you put on your makeup.” Then, he tossed my truck keys at me. “You may be the lady, but you’re driving.”
***
From my spot at the banquet hall bar, I watched as Jason fucking Thompson walked into the room with Ryleigh Scott on his arm.
What the ever-loving-fuck?
