Bar Down (Grand Marquee Manticores #2)

Chapter 7

SEVEN

Seven Months Ago

Ash

By the time we get to the hotel, Eli still hasn’t said another word to me. I even tried to make small talk in the ride share but he just nodded along to what I was saying and continued to look at his phone, all but dismissing me.

I know I love to be the center of attention and fill the silence by talking all the time, but the fact that he’s trying so hard to avoid me is starting to piss me off.

“Are you gonna avoid me all weekend?” I ask as I catch up to him by the front desk.

“I’m not avoiding you, I just have nothing else to say,” Eli tells me without even looking in my direction, and honestly, that really fucking stings.

“I can check in the next person in line,” the concierge says, and Eli moves up to the counter, leaving me behind.

I blow out a frustrated breath and rub my temples with one hand. My headache never really went away and I definitely need a nap soon. Maybe I can skip some of the afternoon activities in favor of a nice comfy bed.

“Sir, I can help you over here,” says another concierge. I move up to the right of Eli and give her my ID and let her know I’m here for the all-star weekend.

After she types in my name, she gets a really confused look on her face and she starts asking her colleague questions about the reservation system.

Eli is still waiting for his room keys when one of the ladies says, “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding with the reservation.”

“Which one?” Eli asks.

“Well, both, really. It seems there was only supposed to be one person checking in, and then a change was made to the reservation to add a second person.”

“Okay, that’s not a big deal. We’ve shared rooms before on the road, we’ll be fine,” I say, smiling to myself. I get to annoy Eli all weekend when he’s trying to avoid me? This is the best case scenario. Maybe I can get under his skin.

“Well, since the initial reservation was made for one person, that means we assigned you to a room that only has one bed. Normally we’d be able to swap rooms, but we are extremely busy this weekend with the event and won’t be able to accommodate that change.”

My smile falls and when I look back at Eli, I can see he’s frustrated with the news.

Well, fuck me sideways, this is not what I expected. Not when I know exactly what Eli’s body feels like next to mine and how much I crave us being together like that again.

Eli

Of course there’s only one bed. Could this day get any worse? My phone dings and I look down to see a reminder that we’re supposed to be at the arena in an hour. Ash and I ride the elevator in silence and I use my key to unlock the door to our hotel room. The place is nice, fancier than I expected.

The room is clean and modern with muted beiges and grays, but it’s also smaller than I expected, and the bed is not a king size as the concierge said, but definitely a queen.

I’ll be fine.

Totally fine.

I think.

I drop my duffle and backpack on one side of the bed and pick out a business casual outfit I brought to change into. “I’m taking a shower before heading to the event,” I say, carrying my small bundle of toiletries to the bathroom. As I walk by him, Ash’s hand reaches out and catches my bicep. I stare down at it for a second before making eye contact for the first time in a few hours. I feel bad for ignoring him, but I’m just so fed up with his attitude. If he doesn’t want me to help or be his friend, then I can’t force him.

“Are you okay with this arrangement?” he asks, nodding towards the bed.

“I’ll be fine.”

He gives me a soft look and says, “I know you like your space, Eli. So if you need me to spend a few nights somewhere else, I’ll figure it out.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather have you here,” I whisper and then to not make the moment too raw I add, “Besides, someone needs to keep you out of trouble.”

One corner of Ash’s mouth lifts and he says, “Oh, I can get in plenty of trouble in this room.”

What a little shit. I roll my eyes and tell him, “Stop flirting and get ready. We leave in twenty minutes.”

When we get to the arena for the first event, Ash is immediately jumped by two of his friends. Dylan and Max introduce themselves to me, but I remember them from last season. They both play for the Vermont Vortices, one of our biggest rivals.

Just bringing them up makes me think of Dustin Mitchell, Vermont’s biggest dickhead. Remembering how he picked a fight with Ash a couple months ago at a bar makes my blood boil. I couldn’t get the image of Ash’s bruised face out of my head for a while after that. How young and vulnerable he looked, and how much I wanted to protect him.

As a goalie, fighting is not something I generally condone. I don’t understand the point of it, since all it does is bring both teams penalties during a game. When the fighting happens off the ice though, that’s even worse, and it shows that players are unprofessional.

“Are we hitting up some clubs after this, or what?” Dylan asks. I take a deep breath and try hard not to roll my eyes. Of course, this is what they care about.

“Hell yeah, we need to catch up. Isn’t that right, Ash?” Max follows up with a smirk and a light shove to Ash’s chest.

Maybe I can condone some fighting if it means this guy stops flirting with Ash.

Before Ash can reply I say, “Who could possibly catch up at a club? You won’t even hear yourself, let alone someone talking to you.”

Dylan snorts. “What, are you too old to have some fun? We’re on break, let loose a little and enjoy California.”

“Give him a break, he’s a goalie. You know how weird they are—he probably doesn’t even know the definition of fun,” Max says, poking at me.

Like I give a shit what they think. I raise an eyebrow at Ash but he’s not looking at me. Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I thought he would side with me, but it would be nice if he put his focus into something other than drinking every now and then. I roll my eyes at their childish behavior and simply walk away.

After a few interviews and photo shoots, Ash and I are ready to participate in the afternoon’s event. There are a variety of mini games for us to participate in, where we need to work together as a team to win.

The first is to play a version of mini golf, except instead of using a putter, we need to use a hockey stick to hit the golf ball. I grimace and look around for the cameras, hoping to angle myself in a way that won’t show how bad I am at this.

“What’s that face for? Already regret spending time with me?” Ash asks.

I scowl and say, “I’m terrible at golf, there’s a reason I never go when Robbie suggests it.”

He laughs and it’s bright and happy. I can’t remember the last time I heard him laugh like this. “I think you’d really like it, if you stopped being stubborn and actually let us teach you sometime.”

“How did you learn how to play golf?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low so no one else hears.

“My father taught me. It’s kind of a requirement for being born rich. If you’re born into old money, you must know how to golf,” Ash says, some of the laughter and happiness already dimming away.

He doesn’t talk much about his family, but I thought that’s just because they’re high profile and private. Ash’s dad is Nelson Meyers, one of the best defensemen in hockey history. He won five Stanley Cup championships during his time with Boston and is now the current general manager for the team. Ash never talks about him though. All I know is that Nelson Meyers has never been to a Manticores game.

“What about your mom?” I prod.

“What about her?” he glares at me.

“You never talk about her.”

“There’s nothing to say. I don’t get along with my parents, and that’s that.”

“Okay, I’m sorry I brought it up,” I say, and continue to fumble with the hockey stick, trying to hit the ball.

“Try holding the stick lower and position yourself above it,” Ash says, dropping his and helping me position mine. His hands are warm and I’m sure I’m blushing just from his proximity. “Make sure when you look down, your eyes are level with the ball. At least that’s what you want to do with an actual putter and golf ball.”

I clear my throat. “Cool, thanks.” Ash looks at my pink cheeks as he straightens to his full height and smirks. Great, now he knows I’m flustered by his touch.

After winning the putt-putt mini game, we went up against the other winning team, which happened to be Max and Dylan. This time, we had to get a hole in one to win the game.

Max went first and he hit the ball so hard it hit one of the photographers in the groin. After some apologies and making sure the guy was alright, Ash took his turn. He hit it perfectly, except as soon as the ball approached the hole, it rode along the edge and continued rolling down the other side. Dylan was smug about it and said, “You guys have no chance of winning this. My short game is impeccable.” As soon as he lined up the shot though, he hit it too softly and it only traveled halfway to the hole. The smile fell off his face quickly and I inwardly cheered.

I couldn’t believe the game was up to me. My hands were sweating and I kept brushing them on my shorts. Ash came up to me, put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “You got this, pretty boy.” I’m pretty sure my brain short circuited, but oddly, that was exactly what I needed.

Instead of overthinking the shot, my brain was stuck on what Ash said.

Pretty boy.

I smiled to myself and took the shot.

Hole in one.

As much as I dreaded this trip, I have to admit I’m actually having fun.

And if Ash happens to hug me when we win, I won’t complain about it.