Page 14 of Icing the Enemy

It feelslike Oakley has had time to take Dixie out and return but since I don’t want to come off as overbearing, I hang out with Flynn, Dawes, and John Basilio. It’s the first time I’ve seen John in ages. His father was a hockey star back in the day, and we called him The Godfather in college. Why? Because he wore his father’s three Frozen Four championship rings, and he demanded we kiss the ring before each game for luck.

He plays for the Dallas Rattlers. We’re not in the same conference, and neither of our teams have made the playoffs in the last few years. He missed our last Stallions reunion because his now ex-girlfriend was having surgery.

Feeling anxious, I wander through the three hundred or so guests searching for Oakley, but I’m interrupted by the DJ announcing it’s time for the bride and groom to throw the bouquet and garter. My friends push toward the dance floor. Bryce performs the tradition first. He lifts Emmaline’s wedding gown up to her thigh, skimming his teeth along the skin. He bites the lavender garter and drags it slowly down her leg. The crowd whoops and hollers like we’re at a hockey game. He lays a passionate kiss on her until she fans herself.

Bryce stands up and in his captain voice, he orders us into place, “All right, guys, stand behind me, and we’ll see who’s getting married next.”

I stand in the back with no intention of catching the thing.

Bryce rotates with his back to us and flings the garter from his finger backwards. The single men jump over each other to catch it, but the garter lands on my head. I remove it from my thick brown hair and twist it in my hands as the guys yell, “Shearer’s next. Shearer’s next.”

“Not likely, fellas, but thanks.”

Did Bryce manifest this?

Still no sign of Oakley. The girls form a semi-circle behind Emmaline; she turns and heaves her bouquet. Coach Sweet’s date catches the bouquet, and her face is colored pink.

I wonder if something is wrong with Dixie. I don’t have Oakley’s phone number to call so I’ll just head to the room and check on them, but I’m stopped by a partial owner of my team who I hadn’t seen until just now.

“Corbin Shearer. Good to see you.”

“You too, sir. Didn’t know you would be here,” I say as I shove one hand into my pocket.

He takes a long swallow of his cocktail. “I was in town, and I’m good friends with the groom’s attorney. His wife couldn’t come, so I’m the beneficiary. You Stallions stick together, huh?”

“Yes, sir. Anytime we’re lucky enough to get together, it’s always a good time. I’m sure Emmaline knows that any of us would do anything for her. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my date.”

His eyes and weight shift, but as I turn to leave, his fingers wrap around my elbow. “I know the management team will be happy to see you photographed with a woman.”

“Why?”

“Because being a loner isn’t good for business. Enjoy your night.”

Asshole.

“Yes, sir.”

After circling the reception one more time, without hesitation, I head up to the hotel room. When I unlock the door, I flip on the light. “Oakley?”

Silence. She’s not in the bedroom or the bathroom. That’s when I realize Dixie’s kennel is gone. Oakley’s luggage and makeup bag are gone. I lean against the desk and rub the stubble popping up on my jaw, staring at the bronze-colored dress Oakley wore earlier.

Where is she?

Why would she leave without informing me?

Slinging the door open, a little voice in my head says, “Better take your keys.” But when I pull the drawer handle, my keys and the valet card are missing.

Fuck.

Maybe I can catch her if I take the stairs and don't wait for the elevator. I feel like a traveler in a rental car commercial running through the lobby as I push through the rotating entrance. The valet asks if he can help me.

“Has a woman with blond hair and dog picked up a Ford F-150?”

“About thirty minutes ago.”

“Did she ask for directions?”

The way his eyes dart away from mine, I know one of two things. He either thinks I’m a total ass, and she’s running from me, or she convinced him not to tell me.

---