Chapter 28
Tonight,everyone was in the kitchen for the cooking competition. He wanted the bride and groom to have a great time, so he forced himself to put his conversation with his mom out of his mind.
At the various islands, Ginty, Noa, her sister, and Jaime’s wife, Grace, stood at their stations while the three judges sat in the banquette with pads of paper and pens.
After tasting each dish, they’d assign a number based on a scale of one to ten, with ten being flawlessly delicious.
The other guests stood in clusters, some picking at the hors d’oeuvres, others gathered at the makeshift bar where the bartender made cocktails, and everyone else listening to Hellcat, the MC, explain how the competition worked.
Every time Booker looked at her, warmth spread through him. It was just like in the cabin—when he recognized her on a level he didn’t understand—only so much deeper now because he knew her.
He loved her mind.
Her body.
Her smile.
He loved the way they needed to stay physically connected whether holding hands or a simple touch. After a lifetime of very little physical intimacy, he craved it—her—constantly.
He loved?—
He pulled in a sharp breath.
Say it. It’s okay.
He loved her.
I fucking love that woman.
It was such a simple thing, love. When you met the right person, it came effortlessly.
He couldn’t wait until the competition was over and the guests had gone to bed so he could have her to himself. But this night meant too much to her. She wanted Noa to have the best wedding possible, and she was loving every minute of hosting it.
He’d happily carry her train and let her shine for the rest of their lives.
She stood at the massive island. “You’ve got twenty minutes on the clock.”
“Why do they say that?” one of the hockey players near him asked. “Where else would time be counted but on a clock?”
“True,” someone said. “That always bugs me.”
Hellcat laughed. “Well, that’s what they say on the TV show, so that’s what we’re doing.” She turned back to the contestants. “Keep in mind, our chef put all the baskets together, so don’t go blaming us”—she gestured to herself and then the judges—“if you don’t know what to do with the ingredients.”
Lulu raised her hands with a comical expression. “I’m just here to eat good food.”
“All right, are you ready to go?” Hellcat asked.
“You know I can’t cook, right?” Noa pointed out.
Ginty gazed at her with affection. “I got you, babe.”
“Hey, no cheating,” Hellcat said.
“It’s our wedding,” Ginty said. “And my woman’s not going to lose.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” Jaime said.
“I’ll let it go with the appetizers,” Grace said to Noa. “But it’s gloves off in the dessert round.”
Everyone laughed, and Hellcat glowed with happiness. “All right, open your baskets.” She read from the sheet the chef had given her. “You’ve got the winning stout beer from the Wild West Days Festival, edible flowers from Delilah’s hydroponic farm, corn tortillas, and crickets.”
Noa jumped back. “Oh, hell, no.” She shot Hellcat a horrified look. “Are you kidding me?”
“Yes. I’m totally kidding. Would I do that to the bride?” Hellcat picked one up and waved it. “It’s actually adzuki beans.”
“Oh, my God. I was literally going to walk away and never come back.”
“Don’t worry, babe, I’d burn the place down before I made you touch a cricket.” Ginty rubbed his hands together. “All right. Let’s do this.”
“And the clock starts…now!” Hellcat said.
“I don’t even know what to do,” Noa said. “What do I do?”
“Grab some corn, some avocado, and make that salad you like.” Ginty didn’t miss a beat. He dashed from the pantry to the refrigerator, grabbing ingredients. He chopped an onion like a pro and dumped it into a pan sizzling with oil.
“Holy patootie,” Hellcat said. “Ginty, you’re on fire.”
Meanwhile, Grace—the owner of the Singing Baker patisserie in Owl Hoot—was quietly singing a Lorelei Calloway song and taking her time to put her dish together.
With everyone watching the competition, Booker was surprised when Cole, Declan, and Jaime closed in on him.
“All right, what’s going on?” Cole, the former forward for the Brawlers and now team owner, crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a challenging look.
“What’re you talking about?” Booker wanted to watch his Hellcat.
“You’ve obviously got a thing for her.” Jaime said, without a trace of residual anger.
Booker appreciated that his old friend was so willing to let it go. He felt bad about the misunderstanding. He should’ve known better. He did know them, and they wouldn’t have blown him off like that. And to find out the three of them hadn’t reconnected until recently…it just made him sad. And, he supposed, this was their chance to fully reconcile.
To do that, he’d need to let them in. “Yeah. I do. We met a couple years ago but only found our way back to each other now.”
“You’re together?” Declan asked.
“You’re with Lorelei Calloway?” Cole sounded surprised.
Jaime laughed. “Fuckin’ Golden Boy. Of course, you’d wind up with a pop superstar.”
He’d forgotten about the nickname they’d given him. They’d thought everything had come easily to him, and maybe back then they were right. It sure didn’t feel that way now. “We have a kid.”
Their smiles flatlined.
“You have a kid?” Cole asked.
“Do you mean Stevie?” Declan asked. “She’s yours?”
“Yeah. She’s my daughter.” He didn’t think the guys did it consciously, but they shifted into a semi-circle, shielding him from the others.
“I’m confused,” Declan said. “Stevie’s almost two, and you just found each other again.”
He let them do the math.
Cole’s eyebrows shot up. “You just found out? Holy shit.” He cut Hellcat a look. “She didn’t tell you?”
“We didn’t exchange numbers.”
“But it’s Lorelei Calloway,” Cole said.
“I don’t listen to pop music, and she’d dyed her hair?—”
“She’s a good kid,” Declan interrupted, getting back to the point. “You got this.”
“I’ve got to make some changes, though.” Confiding in them, seeking their advice, came easily, naturally. Like old times. “I can’t work in New York and be a father to a child in Calamity.”
“No, you really can’t,” Jaime said. “It’s the little moments that matter the most. It’s not the big-ass birthday parties I throw for Kinny that make us tight. It’s all the times she gets into bed with me when she has a nightmare. It’s being home after school so she can tell me someone hurt her feelings. You live in New York, you’re not going to get those moments.”
“I’m trying to get my partners to let me work remotely, but so far, they’re not willing to change the terms of our contract.”
“Take over the team, man,” Cole said. “I’m a shit owner.”
“You’re not a shit owner,” Jaime said. “You’re just not as good as I was.”
Cole faked a punch, and Jaime blocked it. “Fucker.”
“We could use the help,” Declan said. “We’ve got deep pockets, but we can’t fill the stadium.”
They all must’ve thought of Kurt, their former coach and owner of the team, at the same moment, because their gazes dropped to the floor. They’d met him when they were kids trespassing on his massive acreage. Thinking they’d never get caught, they’d made a dirt bike course. What harm could it cause? But they didn’t know Kurt walked his property regularly. He kept tabs on every corner.
Instead of calling the police, though, he’d formed a Juniors Hockey team for them. He’d even formed the Renegades in the hopes they’d all play together.
He couldn’t have known Booker’s accident would send them off in different directions.
But maybe now, he and the guys could start talking again. Maybe if he moved here and spent time with them, it would lead to…friendship.
But right now, they were asking for his help. “Well, no shit you can’t fill the seats.”
They all shot him a look of surprise.
“We’re a great team,” Declan said. “We won a Cup.”
Jaime clapped Cole on the back. “He won a Cup. And then, he retired. Asshole.”
“What’re your revenue streams?” Booker asked. “Do you get all the money from parking and concessions?”
“No, we let external services handle that,” Cole said.
That was an easy fix. “Bring it all in-house. But also, I’ve been to some games. It’s not fun.”
“Hockey’s not fun?” Declan seemed shocked.
“Not at your stadium. You’ve got to appeal to your audience. It’s harder in a state like Wyoming, so you’ve got to work social media hard to make it look fun to be there.”
“We shoot T-shirts into the crowd,” Jaime said with a straight face.
They all burst out laughing.
“Wow. You’re a real visionary,” Booker said. “Hire a social media person?—”
“We have a PR team,” Cole said.
Booker shook his head. “I’m talking about someone who films the players as they enter the building or come off the bus. She can ask them questions like who’s your celebrity crush? What’s your guilty pleasure?”
“Why didn’t you think of that?” Jaime asked Cole.
“Hey, I took over from you,” Cole teased right back. “I’m just keeping the lights on.”
“Cole’s just a pretty face.” Jaime rolled his eyes.
With a serious expression, Cole said, “It’s true.”
“You’ve got to do more than that.” Booker loved talking about shit like this. “Have theme days, where you get everyone to dress up. Give a prize for the best fan costume. Do regular giveaways. And why aren’t you capitalizing on the whole outlaw concept? You need a bandit logo on your helmets. Your T-shirts should have a cool graphic. Also, what kind of streaming contracts do you have? If you’re not leading with the Cup, you’re not maximizing deals. That’s where the money is.”
“You realize you’re an owner, right?” Declan said. “You can step into the role tomorrow and be here with your family.”
The kick in his heart told him he’d like that. “Maybe one day. But I’m right in the middle of negotiations for some of my longer-term clients.” Not to mention the ones who’d trusted him enough to join a boutique agency. Like Jimmy Wilkenson. After a rough and unsteady career, Jimmy had left his agent and signed with Booker, who was close to getting him the best deal of his career. “Too many players rely on me. I can’t just walk away.”
“Well, it’s here for you,” Declan said. “When you’re ready.”
“You were born to own this team,” Jaime said. “You know how to brand and get endorsements… We could use all your skill sets.”
Clapping and whistles turned their attention to the competition. Grace had won the round, and Jaime dashed across the room to hug her. “My girl, bringin’ home the win! How much we win, baby?”
Booker smiled. Jaime had always been the competitive one.
“Next up is Declan, Walter, Sherry, and Hailey,” Hellcat called. She sent him a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
A fierce determination took hold. He couldn’t lose her—not only was she the mother of his child, but she was the source of light in his world. And it struck him: his solution was the Canadian phenom. Signing him could either give him leverage with his partners or launch his own agency based in Calamity. This kid was the biggest get in a decade.
As everyone gathered closer to find out what was in the next set of baskets, Booker headed outside. The cool night air washed over him, and the moon shone high in the sky.
Peace filled him, the kind of fulfillment he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid. His mom, his friends, Hellcat, Stevie…the only thing left to work out was his career.
His thumb hit the call button.
The father gave a clipped, “Hello?”
“Mr. Marchaud, Booker here.” He sounded positive. Confident. I’m here to win.
The silence, though, was not a good sign.
“I’d like to come out there and skate with your son. Now’s the time to think about what he needs to work on so when he gets to training camp, he’ll be ready. You’d be surprised how many of the free agents outskate the tenders and drafted kids. How does next Monday sound?”
“Booker.” The man sounded like he was hanging onto his temper. “You need to stop calling us. We’ve made our decision.
“Liam’s signed with an agency?”
“Not yet, but it won’t be yours. Frankly, we’re disappointed that after all the time we’ve given you?—”
Given me? I’m the one who provided your son with the best skates, hooked him up with the top coach in Canada, paid for private lessons, paid for his billeting, and gave you the advice he needed to get where he is today.
“—you haven’t had our son’s best interests in mind.”
He’d done enough sucking up. This man had crossed a line. “What the hell are you talking about? Everything I’ve done was designed to get your son exactly where he is today. He’s a top draft pick because of my guidance and help.”
“Marcus told us you left under an ethics cloud. That you withheld offers from your clients based on your own self-interests. We don’t want our boy’s clean slate polluted by that kind of behavior.”
“My behavior—” But the connection dropped. Dammit.
Booker tipped his head back and filled his lungs with fresh mountain air.
He’d gotten so caught up in Lorelei and Stevie and this wedding that he’d lost sight of his business. While he was distracted, Marcus had gained the advantage.
That fucker was not going to get away with this.
He needed to think. He needed to figure out a plan.
But it had to be later.
Right now, he had a wedding to co-host.