27. Nat
Nat
Three a.m. and the party doesn’t look like it’s winding down any time soon.
But the players deserve to celebrate. They put their all into the Rogues from the first day they strapped on skates and stepped out onto the practice rink in Rogue Arena.
My gaze lands on Chase.
He has had a few too many drinks and it’s obvious he’s not used to drinking alcohol. He looks confused a lot, especially when he stumbles or sways. And he’s come close a couple times in the last hour to outing our marriage.
Right now, he’s talking with a couple of the younger players, the ones that appear to have also had a few too many in spite of the fact I know they’re underage. Not that any reasonable law enforcement officer would charge them. Not tonight.
Chase shakes his head, his gaze moving in my direction. His face lights up with a grin and he heads my way. As he gets closer the twinkle in his eyes has me on alert.
When he’s close enough to speak, he murmurs, “My whiff,” and I know it’s time to extricate ourselves—him—from the room.
Oakley is still here with Walker. Hours ago, after Pa left with a sleeping Micky over his shoulder, they promised to stay until the last person wobbled back to their hotel room.
Blake’s already gone, slipping out with Drew, leaving Bran to celebrate with his teammates. Not that he lasted more than thirty minutes after she left.
Two hours ago, Whitney convinced the twins to leave with her. She’s staying with Cami’s parents at the house they own here in Vegas. And Candace is tucked up in bed. Deanne Harper and her daughter Melody volunteered to babysit and took her back to their room right after the game.
I told Chase I’d take care of the girls tonight, let him enjoy the celebration with his teammates. He protested, said I had as much right to celebrate as he did, but I promised I’d have a drink with my three partners another night.
Tonight is about the players and their families. Management can have their own gathering once we return to Baton Rouge.
I notice the older Rogues have taken it easy, while the younger ones are no doubt going to feel it in the morning.
Good thing Coach Alcott gave everyone tomorrow off.
They’d better take advantage of it too. Because he and Coach Watts are planning to push them harder than they have so far. And that’s saying something because I think they’ve been training all day, every day since the final games of the regular season weeks ago.
The smile on my face widens when Chase leans toward me making him sway.
A dopey grin on his face, he says, “I tinks I dunk.”
Laughing, I say, “Yes. I tinks you dunk too.”
“Lie down?” His knees bend and I jump forward, lift his arm and tuck myself under it. His face press into my hair and I go still when he sucks in a breath causing air to rush by my ear, and murmurs, “Yum.”
He drags out the word and a shiver trickles down my spine, warmth pooling in my core. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
We’re sharing a suite—as we usually do when I bring the girls to away games. Except tonight there aren’t any children to play buffer. Good thing he’s stumbling drunk. It’ll be easy to resist him when he’s under the influence.
And after the heated looks he’s been sending me all night, I’m surprised nothing in the room has caught fire.
I’m on fire, I know that. Every glance my way has left a scorching trail of desire in its wake.
“Need help with him?”
I turn my head to find Beckett and Cami beside me, and sigh with relief. “Would you? He’s heavier than he looks.”
Cami laughs. “He looks heavy, Nat.”
I send her a smile and move out from under Chase’s arm as Beckett positions himself under the other one so he can take over. “Thanks. We’re on the same floor as you.”
“Are you going to stay down here?” Cami asks.
“No. Oakley and Walker agreed to supervise the rest of the night.” I glance at my watch. “Not that there’s much of it left.”
“This lot will keep going until they fall down like this one,” Beckett says with a smile as he gives Chase a little shake. “All the smarter guys have already gone to bed.”
“Good thing no one needs to get up early. I rescheduled our flight back to late afternoon, so they can celebrate for as long as they last.” I push the ballroom door open so Beckett can drag a passed-out Chase through. And at this point he is dragging him. “Should I see if there’s a wheelchair or something?”
“Nah, I’ve got it.” Beckett glances at Cami. “He’s not that heavy, even if he is a dead weight.”
The elevator is right outside the ballroom, so it’s relatively quick and easy for us to get him inside and up to our floor. The walk down the corridor is a little slower. Mainly because both Chase’s shoes come off at different times as Beckett drags him toward our suite.
By the time I get the door open and we maneuver him inside, we’re all laughing because his socks are now hanging off making his feet look comically long.
“Do you think the hotel would give us the security footage of our trek?” Cami asks grinning. “I’m sure Chase would love to see how he got back to his room.”
“No.” I frown at her. “We are not acquiring hotel security footage.”
“Shame. We could have used it to embarrass him at the party the twins are planning to have this summer.”
I stop short. “What party?”
“Oh. Um…” Her gaze bounces around the room.
“ Cami …” I give her the look that gets the twins to spill when they’re trying to hide something.
“Fine. But don’t tell them I said anything. Maybe pretend you found their notebook with their planning lists.”
“Okay, this is sounding worse by the second.”
“No. It’s not. It’s really sweet actually.”
I eye my friend. “You think what they’re planning is sweet?”
“Yes. They feel bad because Chase didn’t get a party to celebrate signing with the Rogues. Or for his twenty-first birthday. Their parents would have put together a big bash for both. Cassidy and Crystal want to do it for their brother because they can’t.”
“Well, shit.” I completely overlooked Chase’s birthday last year. It was right before preseason and everyone was getting used to the new facility and team, new routines, their new city.
“We should get that footage.”
“No! And I’m surprised you of all people are suggesting it.”
Cami’s face flushes red. “I thought it would be funny.”
“Have to agree with Natalie. Not sure why you came up with the idea. One of the guys, sure, but you.” Beckett shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Is Chase in bed?” I ask Beckett.
“Yeah. Threw a cover over him.” He pointedly looks at my hands. “Didn’t need to remove his shoes.”
“No.” I drop the shoes beside the couch. “He took care of that. Thanks for helping.”
“I’m sure you would have managed without me.” Beckett reaches for Cami and slips his arm around her. “I’m going to get these two to bed, but if you need anything, help with Chase, let us know.”
“Thank you, I’m sure we’ll be fine. Hopefully he’ll sleep until morning.”
“He should. Although, I’m not sure he drank all that much. Everyone kept handing him a drink to toast his series winning goal, but I never saw him actually finish one of them.”
“Hmm…” I glance over at the room Beckett put Chase in. My room. I guess we’re switching. “Hopefully he won’t be too hungover tomorrow then.”
“Buzz when he’s awake. I want to do a quick interview with him,” Cami says.
“I’ll ask him.”
“No. I want the rough edges. The rawness of the morning after a big win and celebration.” She smiles. “I plan to grab a few words with all the guys tomorrow.”
“Okay. But maybe start with the one you’re sleeping with.”
“Come on, you.” Beckett tugs her toward the door. “No more work tonight.”
Once they’re through the door, I say, “Thanks again. See you both later.” And when it closes behind them, I take a deep breath and turn to face the room.
Beckett mistaking my room for Chase’s shouldn’t be an issue, it’s not like I have to sleep in the main bedroom. But it does offer a logistical problem when it comes to me showering and getting ready for bed.
All my toiletries are in the bathroom attached to the room Chase is currently in. I could pack everything up. Move it over to the other bathroom. My clothes too.
Except I don’t have the energy for that. All I want is a quick rinse off before slipping on my comfy pjs and climbing into bed.
Checking the door is locked, my gaze sweeps the room and lands on the bottle of champagne I’m assuming the hotel delivered after our win.
I didn’t order any and while I refrained from having a celebratory drink tonight, I no longer need to be on . I no longer need to be the in-charge owner and GM. Here, in the privacy of my suite, I can drink from the bottle if I want.
That thought brings a smile to my face.
When was the last time I drank wine from anything other than a glass? College?
The small rebellion against manners holds an appeal I don’t want to resist. And I’m already walking over the table where the ice bucket is.
There’s a couple of glasses beside the stainless-steel tub stamped with the hotel’s logo, a puddle of condensation spreading out from its base. And the ice has long since melted, making me think it’s been here a few hours. At least. But when I pull the bottle from its water bath, it’s still ice cold.
With practiced ease, I remove the wrapper and pop the cork. It shoots up, bounces off the ceiling and lands somewhere on the other side of the couch. The sound echoes through the room and my eyes dart across to the open doorway I can see Chase through.
He doesn’t stir and a rush of air leaves me, making me laugh at myself.
What does it matter if he wakes?
It’s not like I’m doing something I’m not allowed to do.
I’m an adult. I’m thirty-fucking-five. If I want to drink champagne from a bottle, I can.
I will.
It can be a belated birthday celebration for myself. Chase’s isn’t the only birthday I overlooked. Candace’s is the only one we acknowledged and had a cake and presents for.
Lifting the cold glass to my lips, I tip it up and relish the burst of bubbles on my tongue. And because obviously I’m doing all the things polite society would frown upon, I guzzle the cool liquid instead of sipping.
I’ve never been a huge fan of champagne. It reminds me too much of my childhood and the man who insisted on strict rules that were appropriate for our station in life.
Shuddering, I repress the memories that threaten to fill my head.
Albert Redding is dead. He can’t do anything else to ruin my life. Unless I let his memory, the restrictions he placed on me, continue to dictate what I do—how I behave.
“Nope. Not happening.” And I take another slug from the bottle to prove my point then grin. “I answer to no one but me.”
The emotions flowing through my veins along with the bubbles of champagne, are freeing.
For years I was forced to toe the line. My whole life, even before my parents died, was what my grandfather dictated—demanded. As much as I loved my father, he had no spine when it came to his own father.
Our lives were ruled by a man who cared for nobody but himself. His own flesh and blood no more than property he ruled over with an iron fist.
Until college.
Until I met three women who changed my life in ways I never could have dreamed of. The memories of those years rush in and I let them.
That was when Natalie Redding finally broke free of her suffocating existence and lived, became the woman I am today.
The COO of a billion-dollar global sportswear brand, owner and GM of a professional hockey team.
With a grin I bring the bottle to my lips again. The cold liquid fills my mouth, popping on my tongue, then sliding down my throat with ease. I’m more of a red wine drinker, but this isn’t so bad.
Maybe my dislike of champagne has more to do with my past than taste. With a shrug, I walk toward the bedroom. I need a shower before I crawl into bed and catch a few hours of sleep.
Chase remains motionless as I make my way through the bedroom; the sight of him sprawled out on the bed makes me stop and smile. I hope he isn’t hungover in the morning. I don’t even know if he’s ever been this drunk before.
It’s not a year since he’s been legally allowed to drink, and I know everyone sneaks beers or whatever before that, but I’m not sure if he did.
His sole focus was hockey. Until he was forced to take on the responsibility of his sisters. I frown.
Things could have been so different for the Hawkins siblings. If I hadn’t?—
I shake my head.
No. They would have found their feet. Chase would have gotten back on the path of his lifelong dream.
But he wouldn’t be passed out on that bed after a night of celebrating his game winning goal. And it isn’t only the game he won for the Rogues.
He put us in contention for the Cup.
The Cup!
Our first year in the league and we’re in the Cup final!
I’m not sure I believe it yet. At the start of the year—hell, when the franchise was announced—no one could have predicted the team would do this well. We were definitely the underestimated, unwanted stepchild of the league.
Not anymore.
The league is on notice. Hell, they’ve been on notice since preseason last September when we hit the ice and won every game.
Entering the bathroom, I close the door and put the champagne on the counter. Stripping out of my clothes, I step behind the glass wall separating the shower from the rest of the room and turn the water on.
A squeak bursts from my throat when the freezing spray hits me in the face. “Dammit.” Moving back, I wait for steam to rise before getting back under the spray. And grab the bottle of bubbles while I’m at it.
There’s a convenient shelf to place the bottle on while I wash off. I don’t bother washing my hair, I can do that in the morning, but I use the vanilla scented soap the hotel supplies to rinse away the day.
I’ve got my back to the spray, the warm water rushing over my tired muscles, letting it soothe the tension left over from the final moments of the game as I once again reach for the champagne.
Putting it to my mouth, I tip my head back and wait for the cool liquid to hit my tongue.
Lowering the bottle, I stare at it. “Huh.”
Flipping it upside down, I watch one final drop fall to the floor, mixing with the water flowing down the drain.
“Well, damn. I drank it all.”
It’s only then I notice the slightly woozy sensation taking me over. Well, double damn. I think I’ve gotten myself in the same position as my star goalie.
With a laugh, I shut off the water and press a hand to the wall when my legs wobble. It isn’t until I’m in the cooler air of the bathroom that it really hits me.
“Shit. I think I’m drunk.” A giggle escapes me and the sound echoing around me only makes me giggle more.
I don’t bother drying off, I just giggle my way into the bedroom and fall into bed.