Chapter 6
Magnus
Kelsey’s a classic puck chaser. She’s biting her lip and hanging on every word I say, even though I’m saying as little as possible.
This is a tightrope walk. I can’t afford to piss off my team owner’s sister or his cousin’s daughter. But I’m also well fucking aware that Caroline was rude to Blair, and Kelsey is refusing efforts to rebuff her.
I guess I’m up for sale to Hudson McClain as a hockey player, but that doesn’t mean I’ll form personal relationships with people close to him just to get in his good graces.
“We should hang out,” Kelsey says, putting a palm on my chest. “Want to get a drink after the event?”
She’s twenty-four, tall and thin, and she works for one of McClain’s businesses as a creative consultant. I can smell the nepotism on her.
“I’m here with a date.”
Kelsey’s smile falters.
Caroline scoffs. “You said she was just a friend.”
“I said we’re here with friends. But we’re on a date.” I glance over my shoulder at the table, where Blair’s looking uncomfortable beside the empty chair I’m supposed to be sitting in. “It was nice to meet you both. I have to go.”
I don’t wait for them to respond. After making my way through the crowd of minglers looking at auction items, I exit the ballroom and find the hotel’s concierge desk in the lobby.
“How may I help you, sir?” a man in a polished suit asks.
“I need a Sprite.”
“A Sprite? Like the drink?”
“Should be easier to find than a woodland creature, right?”
He doesn’t get the joke.
“I can check with our kitchen staff, or you can buy one from the vending machines in the vestibule by the elevators.”
“I’ll buy one. Can you get me a glass with some ice in it?”
“Of course, sir. Right away.”
The vending machine vestibule is hidden by frosted-glass walls. I swipe my credit card and push the buttons for a bottle of Sprite, which is delivered by a mechanical arm.
After picking up the glass of ice, I go back into the ballroom. On my way to the table, I see a pro football player from Cincinnati and an actress who fetches eight figures per film.
I can’t even imagine having the kind of money the two of them do. But if my not jumping all over his cousin’s daughter costs me a contract in Cleveland, I don’t want one.
I’m not the smartest or funniest guy in any room, but I won’t be outworked, and I treat people the way I want to be treated.
Lyckan soker den some inte jager den.
My grandpa always said that. It translates to “luck finds the one who doesn’t chase it”.
Carter Stanton is a veteran player and a great guy; he told me there’s a place for me on a pro team, even if it’s not Cleveland’s. I have to trust that and not let worry derail me.
When I set the glass of ice and bottle of Sprite down beside Blair’s plate and take my seat beside her, she smiles at me.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “But thank you.”
“I know where to get them now if you need more.”
She opens the bottle and fills her glass immediately. A server puts a fresh bottle of Heineken on the table for me.
“So how’s nursing school?” I ask her.
“It’s good. I’m starting a clinical rotation in an obstetrics unit next week.”
“Are you looking forward to it?”
“Mostly. I’m a little nervous, but mostly excited.”
“Do you have to look at ... the ...?” I stumble over my words.
“Vaginas? Yes.” Her warm smile goes all the way to her eyes. “And C-sections, too. That stuff doesn’t bother me, though.”
“You probably wouldn’t make it far in nursing if it did.”
“I’ve seen people pass out in clinicals. Some of them overcome it and some don’t.”
She’s very pretty. Her soft-looking skin and curvy body remind me how long it’s been since I was with a woman. I can pick up on the slightest hint of her floral perfume—just enough to make me want to lean in closer.
“Teach me something about nursing,” I say.
She quirks a brow, amused. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
I take a drink of my beer, watching her as she calculates.
“Okay, here’s something important. If someone recently had surgery, and they cough or sneeze and their organs come out through the incision, you should not shove them back in.”
“What?” Lucien cries from the other side of the table.
“Not our conversation,” Talia snaps. She gives me and Magnus a quick smile and says, “Ignore him.”
Blair’s cheeks flush. I wonder if she knows this is a setup. I wasn’t sure at first, but now that I’ve picked up on everyone at our table listening to our conversation while pretending not to, I know.
I can’t get entangled with my coach’s fiancée’s sister. That wouldn’t be much better than Kelsey. But Blair intrigues me. I want to know her better, even if we’re only ever friends.
“That actually happens?” I ask. “People’s organs can come out?”
“Yeah. We’re supposed to have patients cough or sneeze as gently as they can while holding a pillow.”
I rub a hand over his jawline, imagining it. “I can’t even imagine sneezing and having organs pop out. I’d need some serious sedation.”
“You’d get it. That’s a trip into emergency surgery.”
She’s sipping her Sprite as our predinner salads are delivered, and I sneak a glance at her. Blair is the complete opposite of Kelsey. There’s nothing fake or pretentious about her.
“Those are some ripe tomatoes,” Blair says to Jules.
Jules laughs so hard a little snort comes out. “Oh my god. The farmers market creep.”
I thought Blair was talking about the tiny tomatoes on our salads, but it was an inside joke. She looks at me as she explains.
“We were at a farmers market a couple summers ago and this vendor ...” She cringes and smiles at the same time.
“Jules had nothing in her hands. She was just existing and we were looking at the produce on a table, and this guy—he picked up a huge cucumber and held it out to her, and he was staring at her chest while he said, ‘Those are some ripe tomatoes. How do you like the size of this?’”
“No.” Mara groans from the other side of the table. “Tell me you flipped the table.”
“Jesus,” Carter says. “He’s why women expect men to be creeps.”
“The entitlement some men have,” Coach Turner says, shaking his head with disgust. “I want to drop by that guy’s produce table sometime and shove that cucumber up his ass.”
“Babe, it was forever ago,” Jules says. “And if you fought every guy who made a comment about my jugs, you’d be really busy.”
Coach smiles wryly at her. She arches her brows, reading his thoughts.
“Yes, I do have to call them jugs. We’re all friends. I also reserve the right to call them fun bags.”
“Or tatas,” Suki says.
“The twins,” Talia adds. “Melons. Titties. Hooters. Snack holders.”
Mara takes over. “The senoritas. Knockers. Christmas hams.” She turns to Leo. “What are some other ones?”
He shakes his head, his eyes darting to Coach Turner. “I don’t use slang words to describe women’s bodies.”
Mara laughs heartily. “Okay, good to know.”
“This is a social thing,” Coach says. “You boys can relax.”
“Thanks, Coach Turner,” Carter says.
They’re all smart, and so am I. I’d stab myself in the nuts before I used words like “titties” or “jugs” at a table where he, his daughter, and his fiancée are sitting.
Dinner is served, and it’s beef Wellington with steamed vegetables. Blair and I keep talking, and I find myself more and more drawn to her laugh. Her smile. Her neck, with a little curl of hair at the nape.
Since I got to Cleveland, I’ve admired Carter’s relationship with his wife. All the couples at this table have the kind of relationship I hope to have one day. They and their partners genuinely enjoy each other’s company. They have intimacy, but also respect.
My father was devoted to my mother until his sudden death from a stroke ten years ago. We all felt his loss deeply, and less than two years later, Elin’s injury knocked us flat again.
Dessert is a fancy chocolate cherry thing that looks like a work of art on each plate.
“I kind of hate to mess it up by eating it,” Blair murmurs.
Mara’s frowning at her plate. “There are two people in this chair, but only one dessert.”
Leo passes her his with a wink.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
He shrugs. “You’re growing our kid. You deserve it.”
She gives him a dreamy look. “Reason number sixty-eight why you still get laid even though I’ve reached the waddling stage of pregnancy.”
“I’m not doing it.” Leo fights a laugh.
“Yes, you are.”
He closes his eyes, laughing. “Babe. No.”
“Come on.”
Leo arches his brows, meeting her gaze. “Fine. What’s reason sixty-nine?”
She beams at him. “I’m so glad you asked.”
Blair takes a picture of her dessert. I use my fork to get a bite of mine, then hold the fork out to her.
“You can try mine.”
The table goes quiet as she looks at the fork, her cheeks that sexy shade of pink once again. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I couldn’t help myself.
It’s just flirting. I’m being careful, but I’m only human. Blair is a single mom. She’s used to balancing nursing school, raising two kids, and household chores. I want her to know she’s also a beautiful woman, and she makes me wish I could have more.
Her lips part and she takes the bite of dessert from the end of my fork. I’m secretly hoping she won’t demurely cover her lips with her fingertips and daintily wipe her mouth with her cloth napkin.
“Mmm.” Her eyes widen. “It’s like a Little Debbie cake, but better.”
Lainey bursts out laughing. “It really is. I love me a Zebra Cake and an ice-cold Dr Pepper.”
I should set my fork down on my plate. Or eat my own bite of dessert. But getting the fuck out of my stank hotel room and having some fun has lowered my guard.
I take another bite of the dessert and offer it to Blair. Her light-blue eyes dance with happiness, her smile making me smile.
“Did you guys see that new thing the Coyotes social media team is doing?” Jules asks. “Where they have a kid interviewing the players?”
The rest of the people at our table discuss it, but Blair and I remain completely focused on each other. I feed her my entire dessert, and then she switches her small dessert plate with mine.
When I get a bite of it and offer it to her, she laughs and says, “You’re sweet, but that one’s for you. There’s a capacity to this dress, and I’m pushing it.”
Her phone buzzes with an incoming text. She’s reading it when the auction begins, the room going silent.
The auction is long and not all that interesting to me. Others are hanging on every bid, paying attention to who’s willing to shell out six figures for a meal from a private chef or team memorabilia.
Hudson McClain let the foundation auction off a one-hour call with him for business advice, and that is going for almost twenty-six thousand dollars.
He casually bids on a rare collector’s bottle of bourbon, competing with another man for it until he finally lands it for thirty-three thousand five hundred dollars.
He and I are not the same, but I admire the way he’s built an empire after coming from a regular middle-class upbringing. He has a reputation as a fair team owner who is a generous supporter of charities.
Finally, the auction ends, and people start leaving. Jules and Coach Turner stay where they are, deeply engrossed in a conversation about the trip Coach Turner bought in the auction for the two of them.
Blair appears exasperated as she pushes a button on her phone screen, taking a video call.
“Hey, guys, stop sending me FaceTime requests. I’ll be home soon.”
“Mom, look! I ate all the Nerds ropes Chloe brought.”
“Nice. Who needs teeth, anyway?”
“When are you coming h—is that Magnus? Hi Magnus!”
Coop is grinning on Blair’s phone screen, Eli nearby.
“Are you coming over?” Coop asks. “I still have some Skittles left.”
He’s a sweet kid. I glance at Blair, then back at the screen.
“I’d love to come hang out sometime when it’s okay with your mom,” I say. “I’ll give her my number so we can set something up.”
“Mom, can he?” Coop’s eyes are like saucers as he pleads. “Please?”
“Tonight?” she blurts.
“Please.” He breaks out prayer hands and I try to suppress my smile.
“Coop, it’s after ten. He doesn’t want to come over this late.”
“Yes he does! He wants to play cars.”
She shakes her head. “It’s too late for that.”
“But it’s not a school night.”
“I know, but–”
“Mom, please, please, please.”
I jump in, hoping to help. “How about if I come over just for a little bit? You can show me your room and we’ll make plans for me to come back another time.”
“Yeah!”
He puts the phone down and leaves, Blair rolling her eyes.
“He does that when he’s excited,” she says. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’ve only got a stuffy hotel room to go back to.”
She locks eyes with me for a second, her cheeks lightly flushed. “Okay then. You can follow me home, I guess.”
“Damn, son.” Lucien claps me on the back. “Heading back to her place already? Well done.”
I glare at him, though I don’t know why I bother, because it doesn’t faze him in the least.