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“Ten.”
The doors closed as John punched the ten and eighteen. “I never would have picked you for Lexie.” Sean looked across his shoulder at the older man. “It’s nothing personal, I never would have chosen a hockey player for Lexie. I would have chosen someone normal.”
“You don’t think hockey players are normal?”
He glanced at Sean. “You know the life. It can be hard on a family. I always thought Lexie should marry someone safe. Preferably a dentist. He’s home every night and our family gets a dental plan at a discount. And we need it. My son plays junior triple A and he’s only fifteen. You know he’s bound to lose a few teeth.” Both men almost cracked a smile. “I thought I had her convinced she needed a normal guy. Then she turns up on that damn TV show and ends up winning herself a husband.”
“Pete’s a jagwagon.” Compared to that guy, Sean probably didn’t look so bad right about now.
“Yeah. While she was picking out a wedding dress, I was picking out ways to kill him and get away with it.” The elevator stopped and number ten above the door blinked off. “For a person who likes detailed memos, she can be impulsive, and it gets her in trouble.”
The door slid open and guilt rushed in at Sean. “Good night, Coach,” he said, and stepped into the long hall.
John put a hand on the door to keep it open. “The other night at the Key, you didn’t come right out and say you love my daughter.”
Sean guessed they weren’t tabling the discussion and now was the time. He knew what John wanted to hear and thought of one of Lexie’s handy-dandy lists of pat answers. “The first time I saw her smile, I knew.” At least that’s what he thought it said. Then he swallowed past that lie and heard himself say, “I love her more with every breath, truly madly deeply.” Jesus, had he just quoted Savage Garden? He didn’t even like that damn song.
John’s brows pulled together across the creases in his forehead as if he was trying to figure out if he’d heard the lyrics and just couldn’t place them. Either that, or he was trying to figure out if Sean had turned into a girl. “That’s good,” he said, and stepped back further into the elevator. “That’s what a father needs to hear.” The doors slid shut on John’s puzzled face, and Sean felt heat rise up his neck and burn his cheeks.
He’d never quoted mushy love songs in his entire life, and he’d just poured out the most embarrassing sap to the person whose respect had slipped through his fingers. A man he’d admired growing up. A hockey legend, John “The Wall” Kowalsky.
He moved down the hall and pulled his key card out of his pocket. It was because he’d been rattled about the lie, he told himself as he unlocked the door and walked inside. If not for that, he never would have humiliated himself. If he wasn’t careful, he was afraid he’d go full Michael Bolton, or worse, Justin Bieber.
His roomie, Adam Larson, sat on one of the queen-sized beds with his feet crossed, watching television. The goalie glanced at Sean as he took off his coat and tossed it on the back of a desk chair. “Your cheeks are red. You must have been outside. Colder than a penguin’s balls out there.”
“Yeah.” That was it. He loosened his tie, and his phone vibrated in the pocket of his blazer. He pulled it out and read another text from Lexie.
The Gettin’ Hitched reunion show is taping the day after you play the Kings in LA. The producers asked if you were coming with me.
Sean wrote, You told them no. Right? He buttoned the collar of his shirt and removed his tie and blazer.
Not exactly, she answered back.
What exactly did you tell them? He tossed his cell phone on the nightstand and tossed his garment bag on the bed.
She took a few moments to answer. I informed them that you’d consider it.
Of course she had. She was as pushy as her mutt. If he wasn’t careful, in her memo under public displays of devotion she’d write, “carries purse and buys tampons.”
Inform them that I considered it and said no. I’m not going to appear anywhere near that show. He pushed send and thought that was the end of the subject. Apparently, he was wrong. Two days later, he agreed to meet her at a trendy bar in Post Alley. She sat at a pub table and he had to push his way through a crowd of hipsters in skinny jeans and heavy beards, baggy plaid, colored tights and combat boots.
“Hello.” Not to be outdone by her surroundings, she wore ripped jeans, Nirvana T-shirt, and black leather jacket. She’d pulled her hair back, and she stood to greet him and offered her cheek for a kiss.
“Hello, baby,” he said above the noisy bar, and lowered his face to her dark red lips. Her mouth opened below his, as if she might have something to say. He took advantage of her parted lips and gave her a wet kiss. A publicly acceptable kiss that hinted at the kind of pleasure they enjoyed in private. He slid his hand up her back, under her leather jacket, and pressed her breasts against the front of his hooded sweatshirt. He wanted to catch her off guard and rattle her. He hadn’t planned on being rattled himself, instantly frustrated by the thick clothing that separated her naked breasts from his bare chest.
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes filled with surprise and a hint of sultry frustration. At least that’s what he liked to believe. He’d hate to think he was the only one feeling like they should move the party of two a few blocks away to his condo and get reacquainted.
He stepped back, and his hands fell to his sides. That kind of thinking was crazy. That kind of thinking led to doing, and doing led to more problems. Problems he didn’t need.
“This is my friend Marie,” Lexie introduced him to the other woman sitting at the pub table. “Marie, this is Sean.”
Lexie slid into a chair and Marie stood, or hopped down really. She was short, had dark hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail, and wore black glasses with little rhinestones at the corners. While Lexie wore hipster chic like a fashion choice, Marie’s Doc Martens, plaid skirt, and “Feminist As Fuck” T-shirt were clearly a lifestyle. She wore no makeup except deep red lipstick, and still managed to look cute as hell, in a feminist-as-fuck sort of way.
“Hello, Sean.” She shook his hand, and he noticed the crease between her blue eyes as if she was sizing him up in case she might have to kick his ass. Funny given that she was about five feet, two inches and weighed next to nothing.
“Marie drove me to the dock the night we took off in the Sea Hopper.”
Ah. The driver of the clown car. “It’s nice to meet you.”
