Page 13 of Ice Ice Maybe
Mitch’s eyes flicked to the empty seat to my right. He hesitated for a moment, then lowered himself into the chair next to Dad with a forced smile.
As everyone settled in, I found myself acutely aware of the empty seat, wondering just what kind of entrance Nolan had planned. He’d proved he could improvise with that amazing kiss that nearly knocked me off my feet, but I had no idea how he would respond when he met the legendary Mitch Redding, a 6’ 4” tall man who weighed a solid 240 pounds.
“How was your first meeting and practice this morning?” Dad asked.
“All good,” Mitch said. “Like I’d never left. It’s great to be back.” His eyes darted to me, then he quirked a brow.
“Mitch blended right in from the minute he stepped on the ice,” Coach Quinn said. “The boys are glad to have him back on the team, and their energy was off the charts. This is going to be fun to watch.”
“I agree,” Steve said. “I was only at the rink for about twenty minutes, but I don’t think I have ever seen the team this motivated to make a run for the playoffs. And it all starts tomorrow against San Jose.”
“The Sharks won’t know what hit them,” Mitch said with a confident grin.
“That’s what I want to hear!” Dad said. “I have high hopes for the last twenty games.”
After we suffered some conversation about the weather and real estate in San Diego, our server appeared and took orders for drinks and appetizers.
A few minutes later, Mom’s eyes went wide. “There he is!”
I turned as Nolan swaggered past the hostess and headed in our direction with his head held high, his entrance a perfect blend of confidence and style. He wore dark wash jeans that hugged his athletic legs, paired with a crisp white button-down shirt that was untucked under the perfectly tailored navy blazer that accentuated his broad shoulders. His hair was artfully tousled, and a hint of stubble along his jaw added a rugged charm to his polished look.
Mitch scrutinized Nolan with his eyes from head to toe as he approached. “Who is that, exactly?”
“That’s Zena’s boyfriend!” Mom said with a peppy zing worthy of a double shot of espresso.
“Zena’s …” Mitch glanced at me with his nose up. “Seriously? That guy?”
“I know—I’msolucky,” I said as Nolan stopped in front of my parents.
“Nice of you to dress up,” Dad said, eyeing Nolan’s outfit with concealed disdain as he stood and held out his hand.
“Dad, leave him alone,” I interjected. “He looks great.”
“Very stylish,” Mom said.
Nolan shook Dad’s hand firmly, his eyes twinkling. “Last time I wore a suit was on my wedding day. That didn’t end well, so …” He shrugged playfully. “Lesson learned. No more suits.”
Mom stepped forward with an amused look to greet him. “Can’t blame you at all. I avoid black cats and hotel rooms on the thirteenth floor.”
Nolan’s face lit up. “Mrs. Dalton, always a pleasure to see you. I swear, if your smile were any more radiant, I would get third-degree burns on my face.”
“Oh, you are always the charmer,” Mom waved him off, beaming like they’d known each other for years. “And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Elena?”
“Ask me again tomorrow,” Nolan said before kissing her cheek. He turned to Mitch and extended his hand. “We’re all excited to have you back on the Sea Lions, Mitch. Ready to break that playoff drought?”
Mitch stood, towering over Nolan as they shook hands. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Well, I’m here for the shrimp linguini,” Nolan joked.
I smiled. “Me, too.”
Mitch glared at Nolan, his grip visibly tightening as he stuck out his chest further. “I’m talking about hockey. I came to San Diego to do a job, and I’m going to do it. And win.”
“Let’s hope so or Mr. Dalton just flushed fifty million dollars down the toilet,” Nolan said.
Everyone laughed, except for Mitch, whose jaw clenched while a vein pulsed in his temple. This plan to irritate him was already working like a charm.
“There’s my girl!” Nolan exclaimed, sweeping me into his arms.
