Chapter 32 Jordan
jordan
“You gonna tell me what’s up with the water tonight?” Johnny asks while I wait for our drinks. I cringe, already knowing this is going to turn into an interrogation. “You always order a scotch and Splenda after a win.”
My stomach twists. Nailed it. “Goddammit, Johnny; you don’t miss anything.”
He smirks, knowing he is well-versed on all things Riders, both on and off the ice.
“Well, you haven’t stopped by lately. I know ya’ll are busy with the playoffs, but don’t think I don’t keep up with all my Jordan Boucher love life news on social media.
And if you think I’m gonna chalk that up to a random coincidence, you got another thing coming.
Now…you gonna fill me in on what’s going on with you two or should I go grill Maggie? ”
“We’re dating now, okay?” I let out a defeated sigh. There’s no use avoiding him. He always knows everything. “We’re dating, and I’m…beyond happy to have the woman of my dreams by my side.”
He glances up as he long pours the gin, and my stomach twists once more.
“You know I don’t put up with bullshit at my bar.
I saw you two swapping spit on every news site a few weeks back, looking the happiest you’ve ever been, and now you’re acting like you have to wait for your drinks, like I wouldn’t just bring them over to ya, and sulking like you didn’t just make it to the second round of the playoffs.
” He jerks his chin across the bar. “And she’s sitting over there not looking any better. ”
I run my hand through my hair fighting to not pull out every strand.
“Johnny…Fuck! You know I like her, okay? And now I’m scared shitless to say the wrong thing and get caught up in someone who isn’t into me…
I’ve been fooled before, and I really don’t want to go down that road again.
” I drag my hand down my face, leaning heavily against the bar.
“Every time I find the tiniest bit of confidence, thoughts of my former life pop back up, and…goddammit! I don’t know what to do.
I was so confident with her earlier tonight, and now?
Now I am terrified to go over and talk to her in front of our friends. ”
“Let me tell you something, Jordan, if some part of her didn’t like you to some extent, she wouldn’t be doing this in the first place.
Kennedy Kramer is not going to fool you.
I know you’re a great performer, but that kiss?
That was all her. I saw the shock in your eyes.
” The corner of his mouth lifts, his eyes finding Walt in the dark. “There’s something there.”
He’s wrong. “Where do you come up with all this shit, Johnny? There is no way she’s into me. Even if she was, how the hell do I get her to stop thinking I’m just some spoiled rich kid who only cares about money and myself?”
He sets our drinks on the bar and throws a towel over his shoulder. “Keep showing her you’re more than that. Give her a window into the side of you no one else gets to see.”
I blink. That’s what my dad said. That’s what Hannah said.
Maybe that’s what the body-invading alpha biker bro was trying to tell me, too.
My ribcage is assaulted from the pulsing behind it, anticipation spreading through my body like the last few seconds in the penalty box.
“You know what, Johnny? I changed my mind. I’ll take that scotch and Splenda after all. ”
He flashes me a wicked grin, grabs a glass already waiting with Splenda, adds in the ice and scotch, and slides it across the bar with a wink. I take a sip, knocking back a bit of liquid courage.
Time to stop being a little bitch and date the shit out of Kennedy Kramer.
As I weave through the crowd toward the big group table, I see Kennedy wedged between Olivia and Maggie. I stand across from her, setting the glass on the table and sliding it her way.
Olivia practically jumps out of her chair as I look for a place to sit. “Jordan…here! I’m gonna go sit with Hayes. You can have my seat.”
Heat crawls across my cheeks as little smirks light up the faces of all her friends.
There is no one in the entire universe who loves playing matchmaker more than the Milwaukee Steel Riders and their significant others.
I walk around the table to sit next to Kennedy.
Everyone else is deep in conversation, clinking glasses, and celebrating our win.
But my mind is not on the next round of hockey.
It’s focused on one thing—figuring out how the hell to show Kennedy the real me.
I wish I could just say ‘hey, I’m not really the rich fuckboy you think I am. ’
Shit…maybe that would be easier.
“You changed your drink,” Kennedy says, surprising the hell out of me. “Johnny seemed pretty shocked by your water order. Is this what you normally get? You drank a cabernet in Dallas. Are you a big wine drinker?”
I smile; the thought of her remembering my drink order makes my heart pound in my chest. “I do like wine. Sometimes I have a glass to help me get to sleep. But after a win, my go-to order is a scotch and Splenda.”
“Ha! Like Michael Scott on The Office?”
I laugh. “Yeah, you’re a fan?”
“Who isn’t? I don’t even work in an office, but it’s such a funny show.” She tips her glass toward me. “I guess you don’t work in a typical work environment either.”
“You’ve been to my office. Just ice, sticks, and sweat. And a grumpy goalie who rivals Stanley Hudson with his short dialect and brooding nature.”
Her eyes sparkle as she lets out a roaring laugh. “Dear lord! Vladi really is a real-life Stanley, isn’t he? I can just picture him saying, ‘Did I stutter?’” She leans in close, heat radiating from her body to mine as she whispers, “Do you think he likes pretzel day?”
We both burst into a fit of giggles as her hand rests on my arm.
I glance at the delicate flesh touching mine, goosebumps quickly spreading across my skin, meeting her gaze as I look back up.
The air thickens as her joy fades into a sweet smile, and I match it with my own.
Maybe Johnny was right. Does she have a thing for—
“Hey, Bougie!” The moment is interrupted by EJ shouting down the table. “We’re gonna go to 414 after this. Can you hook us up with bottle service?”
Kennedy tilts her head, her gaze darting between my loudmouth teammate and me. “Jordan…” she whispers, looking me dead in the eye, my stomach twisting like I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “Why is Erik asking you for free drinks at Club 414?”
Shit. Fucking EJ. I’m gonna swap out his laces for some hideous ones next practice.
I shrug. “EJ’s just a big mooch. Never wants to pay for anything,” I say, shooting laser beams at EJ. “Buy your own drinks tonight, asshole! That salary extension’s burning a hole in your pocket.”
There. Problem solved.
Until dickface opens his mouth again. “Oh, come on, Bougie! You own the damn club; you can’t hook your teammates up? Lame!”
I slowly face Kennedy, her lips pursed, and her jaw clenched tighter than I thought physically possible.
“You own Club 414? As in…own it, own it?”
I flash a cringy smile, my heart plummeting to the floor. Yet another example of me having a lot of money that I’m sure she’ll hate. “Would you believe me if I said no? That it was a gift I inherited from a long-lost relative?”
She shifts in her seat to face me, crossing her arms. This can’t be good. “No. Spill it.”
“Okay. Yes. I own Club 414. Along with a few other businesses around Milwaukee and Canada.”
Her expression doesn’t change, but my pulse fires on all cylinders, wondering how she’s going to react. My tongue wets my lips, and I can see the wheels spinning as if she’s trying to put the pieces together. I see when it finally clicks, spots dancing across my vision.
“Wait…when I was there celebrating Benny’s last day, my bill was covered by the owner…”
“It was me,” my confession spills out of me before I grab my glass and take a drink, my throat suddenly dry as hell. This ‘show her you’re more than your money’ thing is really going well.
She blinks. “Why did you pay for my tab? I’m quite capable of—”
“It was for Benny,” I say quickly, thanking all the hockey gods for helping me come up with that half-truth. “He was cool, and I wanted to make sure he had a nice send off.”
“For Benny…” she drawls, nodding slowly. “Right. Well, that was very nice of you to do that. For Benny.”
“Yep. That’s me. Super nice doing things for only Benny.”
She leans back, breaking our connection.
The amount of money I would pay to know what she’s thinking right now is endless.
Does she know I did it for her? I love Benny, but this was one-hundo percent for her and her alone.
Running my hand through my hair, trying to calm my nerves down and figure out how to quiet her suspicions, I’m saved by the literal bell ringing above the door to Walt’s.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Kennedy spits as we see a couple walk in, hanging all over each other.
I flinch as the woman trips over an occupied table, the man making no attempt to catch her. Did I say walking? I meant stumbling. They’ve both had way too much to drink.
And the man leading a very drunk woman to the bar is none other than Chadd fucking McDickwad, III.