Page 117 of Shutout
“Ican’t find the rings.”
For someone who spends so much of his time on the ice, never have I turned into precisely that until this very moment.
Glad to see I’m not the only one, though. All movement in the room stops, every single man transforms into an ice sculpture like the kind my step-mother commissioned for the reception later tonight—two swans or something.
I stop breathing in the middle of putting in my favorite cufflinks, a miniature of the Stanley Cup my team and I won last year. Through the mirror, my eyes find the face of my brother and at least he does look like he regrets uttering those words very much.
However, I still sound angry enough when I ask, “Youwhat?”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Dane cringe. “Oh, boy.”
“I didn’t lose them.” My fifteen-year-old brother stuffs hishands in the pockets of his dress pants, brow furrowing with a mighty fierce look that cowers his hockey opponents but not his big brother. “I just left them on a table when I went to the restroom, and they were gone once I returned.”
“Usually,” Aran mutters in a sinister voice, “I make threats on the older Tatum, but now I may consider changing the subject. If you ruin my sister’s wedding?—”
“And mine,” I add sardonically. “But anyway, no need to threaten anyone because this won’t ruin the wedding. We’ll fix it.”
“Right.” Max abandons his glass of brandy—the same fancy little beverage we’ve all been hydrating ourselves with while getting ready for my wedding—and gets up from his leather chair. “All we need to do is look for them.”
Jamie raises his hand like we’re in a classroom. “But wait, what if someone stole them?”
I narrow my eyes. “We’re the only guests in this hotel. If someone dared to steal my wedding rings, I will sic the Aran Rodriguez on their sorry ass.”
To illustrate, said goalie cracks his knuckles.
“Maybe let’s try to not have any murder in my sister-in-law’s wedding, okay?” Max chuckles.
“Right.” I look up at the ceiling as if I could find my patience hanging from it. With a deep breath, I turn back to my brother. “Let’s start at the crime scene.”
“But I already looked at every nook and cranny,” he whines.
“You’re just a defenseman like your brother. Don’t act like you have the best eyes in this room,” Aran retorts dryly. “Let’s go.”
“Fine.” Lee didn’t grow up under the shadow of Aran’s threats to his life, so he has the nerve to roll said eyes at the massive goalie who could still snap me in half.
For the first time Aran narrows his eyes at someone otherthan me. When his attention falls on me, it’s only to motion with his head that we should get going.
It took him a while—almost the entire time Liv and I have been dating—for him to get used to the idea that I’ll always been in his life. But I think this is the first time Aran and I are on the exact same page. We both don’t want this wedding to be anything but perfection, which is what my fiancée deserves. He’s the first one to vacate the gentleman’s dressing room, since he’s closest to the door.
I’m the only one who isn’t fully decked with tie and jacket because the photographer is supposed to drop by any second, but I don’t care about that. Not when we have a major emergency. I leave the room sans tie, vest, or jacket, with one cufflink secured in the sleeve of my shirt and the other one in my pocket.
Our heavy steps echo around the hallway as we follow Lee to the hallway. A little sideboard loaded with a gigantic flower arrangement sits in between the doors to the women’s and men’s restrooms.
“Dude,” Jamie says with laughter in his voice. “Why did you even come here when we have a private bathroom in our suite?”
“Whoever was there before me left it stinking up so bad I almost barfed.” Lee stretches his mouth in the universal gesture ofyikes. “It was honestly unlike any stank I’ve ever come across in my life. Worse than a public trash can.”
“Oh that was me, sorry.” Dane grins. “That happens sometimes after breakfast burritos.”
“Wow, I feel so bad for Mina.” They’re still going strong and probably the next couple in line to tie the knot, but maybe I should advise Mina to save her lungs. And stomach. Horrified, I add, “Do whatever it takes not to fart during the wedding or else.”
“It’s all good. I think I got it out of my system.”
“You think?” I scrunch up my face.
“Let’s divide and conquer,” Max chimes in with the voice of reason, probably because he’s the eldest of this weird bunch. “Aran and I can check the men’s restroom in detail. The rest of you should comb through this entire hallway.”
“Aye captain.” Dane salutes because, funny enough, Dane’s now a teammate of Max’s, and the latter is the captain.
