“It looks like you might be stuck with each other,” his agent had said, chuckling.
Thursday night they played their last home game before a three-game road trip across the country and Canada. Leo played that game, against Pittsburgh, because “we’re resting Bayer’s shoulder for the road.”
Whatever, Leo thought to himself as he’d tied his skates. If Coach wanted to make it sound as if Leo was just a stand-in, just let the man try to talk him down. Whether Coach was happy with him or not, he’d play his second NHL game with everything he had.
They battled Pittsburgh to a tie. Leo wasn’t entirely impressed with himself. He missed a few opportunities that he should have capitalized on. And he couldn’t always anticipate his new teammates’ moves the way he’d learned to do with the Muskrats.
If it takes time, it takes time, Leo coached himself. If only he had more of it.
On the morning of the black-tie benefit the team had a morning skate and then a good, heavy workout in the weight room. After grabbing lunch in a deli, he went back to Silas’s apartment—he still didn’t quite think of it as his own—and took a nap. While he was sleeping, his tux was dropped off with the concierge of the apartment building. He’d had to rent one from a formal wear company that had come to the practice rink to fit him. Leo’s own tux was in a box somewhere, packed up by the movers he’d hired to liberate his stuff from his place in Michigan.
Padding around the apartment as the afternoon slid into shadow, he still felt exhausted. It had been exactly eight days since he’d landed in the middle of the team’s regular season play. The Bruisers were finishing up a February slate of twelve games, while March promised an astonishing sixteen matchups. Dropped feetfirst into this brutal schedule, he was supposed to get to know his teammates, contribute to their scoring power, move from a thousand miles away, and develop as a player.
He hadn’t managed to see much of Georgia since that chat they’d had before the Tampa game, either. But he hoped she’d be at the fundraiser tonight. He could hardly believe he had to button himself into a penguin suit and smile for the cameras the night before a weeklong road trip. He hoped this boondoggle was going to raise a cargo-load of money for some worthy cause. Otherwise? Not worth it.
And then there was Amy. She’d texted him about twenty times while he napped, with pictures of the pedicure she’d gotten and the tiny underwear she’d found to go under her dress. His heart dropped when he saw those pics, because it was pretty obvious that her expectations for tonight did not match up to his own.
This night was going to end with Leo in his own bed, alone. The end.
If he was honest, it had become increasingly obvious all week that he should have already called Amy to let her down easy. He should have manned up and disinvited her to the function he’d never really invited her to in the first place. But he was trying to be nice. Amy was a puck bunny of the highest order, and a glitzy night in the company of two dozen professional hockey players would be like her best fantasy come to life. He knew she’d see it as the selfie event of the year with the best bragging rights in town. She’d have a blast, and it didn’t have to mean that they were a couple.
But now, squinting at the sexy selfies she’d sent to his phone, staying quiet seemed like a mistake. After tonight’s function, he needed a good sleep and a clear head for the road trip. What he did not need was further entanglement with Amy.
He’d just have to tell her tonight. Gently.
In an hour, she’d pull up outside his apartment building, and he’d need to be ready. On the advice of one of Becca’s office assistants, he’d sent a limo into Manhattan to pick Amy up. When they’d made that arrangement via text, he’d explained that he needed to pack for a week on the road, and she’d said she understood why he couldn’t pick her up in person.
After this shindig tonight, he’d tuck her back into that car and send her on her way again. And there would be no further misunderstandings.
In the meantime, Leo went into his rented bedroom and pulled out his suitcase. It was time to pack.
* * *
Two hours later, Georgia stood in the middle of the sumptuously decorated ballroom at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, surveying the crowd. So far, the event had gone off without a hitch. The passed hors d’oeuvres were tasty. The bars at either end of the room were plentiful and well-attended, but not overcrowded. And the florists hired to turn the hall into a winter wonderland had gone out of their way to make the place look stunning. There were silver birch branches with tiny strings of lights, and glittering snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.
It was magnificent. Even so, Georgia was perfectly miserable.
“Man, there she goes again.” Becca sidled up to Georgia, giving her a subtle nudge with her elbow.
“I don’t want to look,” Georgia grumbled. She knew Becca was referring to Leo’s date. The two of them were out on the dance floor, sliding through a slow, sultry song together.
This was one of those rare nights when Georgia wished she was more of a drinker. She needed something to numb the burn of that woman’s hands all over Leo’s body. Since alcohol in public wasn’t her style, she’d taken to drowning her sorrows in mini quiches and duck confit en croute.
“She slid her hand right up his thigh, and he removed it.” Becca snickered. “She’s like an octopus in Prada.”
Georgia only growled and shoved a mini empanada in her mouth.
“Don’t be that way,” Becca chided her. “The man is grinding his teeth so hard it’s going to leave permanent damage. He’ll have to order applesauce for supper from Denver to Phoenix. All the smack talk she’s been dishing out is getting to him, too.”
“What smack talk?” Georgia hated herself for asking.
“She told Bayer’s girlfriend that they’d been together ‘since college.’ Which is really funny, because earlier I heard him ask her how she’d been since graduation. And that was more than a year ago, right?”
“Almost two,” Georgia corrected.
Becca grinned. “You just gotta see the humor, George. This too shall pass.”
Georgia cut her eyes toward the girl—Amy was her name. She’d arrived in an entirely glamorous silver dress, her boobs practically popping out everywhere. She was stunning, if Georgia was honest. The girl was both tall and curvy, with smooth, bronze skin, shiny hair, and a rather sleek makeup job of the sort that Georgia had never mastered.
Except . . . Georgia squinted. The girl’s mouth was a little too big. And not just figuratively. It was wide. Like a muppet’s.
Ugh. And now Georgia was picking apart the appearance of a perfect stranger, and all because she was hung up on her high school boyfriend.
Pathetic much? Because while Becca might be right about this girl—that Leo wasn’t really enjoying her company—it didn’t really matter. If it wasn’t Amy then someday soon it would be another girl. Georgia had no claim on Leo. The girls would stick to him like flies in honey. He’d had his picture taken about a hundred times already tonight, by both the charity’s photographers and the ticket-holders. Rich fans who’d paid a thousand dollars a head tonight were interested in the cute rookie.