Page 22 of Win Big

“I didn’t do the work,” I tell them. “I have a great team.”

It was a huge endeavor, to cover the ice and transform the arena into an intimate, glamourous setting for a dinner, not to mention set up the stations for the chefs who are cooking here tonight. Various businesses have sponsored tables, which are each decorated with a theme. They’re all unique and all stunning, from tall flower arrangements and gleaming glass and silver, to a replica Stanley Cup table in all silver, to a Roaring Twenties theme.

A photographer stops in front of us, and Mom, Dad, and I smile for a few pictures. I’ve done this a million times, so I’m experienced at it, but I’ll never like having my picture taken. Then the photographer moves on, and we step apart. I watch Condors’ defenseman Derek Jablonski precariously balance a tray full of martinis as he makes his way toward us. I smile as I accept a drink. “Good job,” I tell him.

“This is harder than it looks,” he says. “I’m sweating like a hooker in church.”

A laugh bursts from my lips. “Oh no.”

He grins. “I can handle it.”

“Where’s your buddy Wyatt?”

“He said he’d be here. He said he’d be a bit late, though.”

I swallow my sigh. “Yes, he did.” Dinner hasn’t even started, so I guess I can’t be too upset.

I have a few other things to attend to, so my martini and I head toward one of the cooking stations where they were having some electrical problems. Fortunately, this has been solved. I thank the chef for being here and apologize for the delays, and he’s gracious about it, thankfully. Some of these chefs are total divas.

At a few minutes past seven, our emcee for the evening, comedian Rick Radman, gets up to announce dinner is starting and request everyone take their seat. He makes a few other housekeeping announcements and a few of jokes that get people laughing. I move to the table I’m sitting at with Dan, a couple of city councilors and their wives, and the assistant GM of the team, Scott Jermy, and his wife. We tried to spread around people who work for the team, like Mom and Dad; Dave; Barry, director of hockey operations; and assistant coach Stanislav Petrov, so various guests sit with people from the organization.

Still no sign of Wyatt.

I roll my eyes. We’ll manage fine without him. I don’t know why I’m so irritated by him not showing up.

Our table is being served by goalie Arvid Bergström and Nick Romano. As they’re serving a starter—veal tartare crostino—I slide into my chair next to Dan. I flip my napkin onto my lap and smile at him. “How are you doing?”

“Great. Amazing event. As usual.” He leans over and kisses my cheek.

I pick up one of the appetizers and take a bite. Delicious, although I am far from hungry. My stomach is tight with nerves. What I really need is more wine.

That’s when I see Wyatt. He’s scowling at us, standing there looking gorgeous in his tux.

I blow out a short breath. “Excuse me for a minute.”

Dan gives me an exasperated look, like he wants me to sit and enjoy the food. I push my chair back and stalk over to Wyatt. “Thanks for coming,” I say with a sarcastic edge to my voice.

“I got here as fast as I could.” He sets his jaw.

“You’re working with Jimmy and Derek,” I tell him, pointing to the table the two men are serving. “Go see Amy, she has an apron for you and she’ll get you set up.”

He’s annoyed. I don’t know why. Maybe he doesn’t like being told what to do by a woman. Too bad. I don’t have time for that shit.

I head back to my seat. “Sorry, Dan. One of the players just arrived, late.”

“No worries. There’s always something, isn’t there?”

“So true.” I shake my head.

I try not to follow Wyatt with my eyes as he crosses the room. It’s a struggle, though, because I want to watch him. He’s flashing that bad boy grin around as he ties on an apron, listening to Amy with his head bent and nodding. Seems it’s just me he’s ornery with. Then he picks up a tray of food.

I smile and manage small talk as we eat amazing food. I do have to excuse myself again, when Amy comes by with another small problem I need to attend to. I take care of things and return to my seat for dessert.

After dinner, Rick Radman entertains with a witty stand-up routine and then we mingle and enter the silent auctions. There are amazing items being auctioned off, thanks to generousdonors, including a luxury spa getaway, diamond jewelry, and hot air balloon rides.

I do my duty. I’ve been schmoozing with people my whole life, since Mom and Dad love to entertain and frequently had all kinds of people over for dinner parties. I could hold a conversation with hockey players, coaches, businessmen, and movie stars by the time I was twelve. Which is pretty much what I’m doing now as I move from group to group.

Now that dinner is over, the players have ditched their aprons and are mingling as well, posing for pictures with fans and signing autographs. Wyatt appears to be popular with the guests. This isn’t a surprise to me; since he arrived here last season, he’d quickly become a fan favorite. The ladies love him for his good looks, ripped physique, and wicked smile; the men love him for his bro charm. And everyone loves him for his hockey skills—his willingness to play hard, make hits, and sacrifice himself for the team. And the odd time he lets go a blistering shot from the point that hits the back of the net.

---