Most of the team was in the bar downstairs, celebrating. Not John. He was restless and edgy and too stoked to sleep, but he didn’t want to be around people. He didn’t want to eat bar peanuts, talk shop, or fend off rink bunnies.
Something was wrong. Except for the blindside hit he’d given Fetisov, John had played textbook hockey. He was playing his game the way he liked to play it, with speed, strength, skill, and hard body checking. He was doing what he loved to do. What he’d always loved to do.
Something was wrong. He wasn’t satisfied. You can have your career with the Chinooks, or you can have Georgeanne. You can’t have both.
John dropped the drape back into place and glanced at his watch. It was midnight in Detroit, nine in Seattle. He walked to the table next to the bed, picked up the telephone receiver, and dialed.
“Hello,” she answered after the third ring, stirring something deep within him.
If you kiss her, she’ll think you’re handsome. Then you can have a baby. John closed his eyes. “Hi, Georgie.”
“John?”
“Yep.”
“Where are… What are you…? Cryin‘ all night, I’m watching you right now on the television.”
He opened his eyes and looked across the room at the closed curtains. “It’s a delayed telecast on the West Coast.”
“Oh. Did you win?”
“Yes.”
“Lexie will be glad to hear it. She’s in the living room watching you.”
“What does she think?”
“Well, I believe she really liked it until that big red guy knocked you down. Then she got upset.”
The “big red guy” happened to be an enforcer for Detroit. “Is she okay now?”
“Yes. When she saw you skate around again, she was okay. I think she really likes watching you. It must be genetic.”
John glanced down at the notepad by the telephone.
“What about you?” he asked, and wondered why her answer felt so important to him.
“Well, I don’t normally like to watch sports. Don’t tell anyone, because as you know, I am from Texas,” she drawled, “but I like to watch hockey more than football.”
Her voice made him think of dark passion, reflections in windows, and hot sex. If you kiss her, she’ll like you more than Charles. The thought of her kissing her boyfriend made him feel as if he’d taken a boomer to the chest. “I’ve got tickets for you and Lexie to the game on Friday. I really want you both to come.”
“Friday? The night after the wedding?”
“Is that a problem? Do you have to work?”
She paused for a few long moments before she answered, “No, we can be there.”
He smiled into the phone. “The language gets a little salty sometimes.”
“I think we’re used to it by now,” she said, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. “Lexie is right here. I’ll let you talk to her now.”
“Wait, there’s one more thing.”
“What?”
Wait until I get home before you decide to marry your boyfriend. He’s a wimp and a weenie and you deserve someone better. He sat down heavily on the side of the bed. He didn’t have any right to demand anything. “Never mind. I’m really tired.”
“Is there something else you needed?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, put Lexie on.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lexie strolled down the aisle as if she were born to play the part of a flower girl. Curls bounced at her shoulders and rose petals fluttered from her gloved hand to the carpet of the small nondenominational church. Georgeanne stood on the left side of the minister and resisted the urge to pull at the hemline of the pink satin and crepe tank dress resting two inches above her knees. Her gaze was fixed on her daughter as Lexie sashayed down the aisle dressed in white lace and beaming as if she were the reason the small group had assembled in the tiny church. Georgeanne couldn’t help beaming a little herself. She was extremely proud of her little drama queen.
When Lexie reached her mother’s side, she turned and smiled at the man standing across the aisle in a navy blue Hugo Boss. She raised three fingers off the handle of her basket and wiggled them. One side of John’s mouth lifted, and he waved two fingers back at her.
The wedding march began and all eyes turned to the doorway. A wreath of white roses and baby’s breath circled Mae’s short blond hair, and the long white organza sheath Georgeanne had helped her choose looked beautiful on her. The dress was simple and emphasized Mae instead of losing her in yards of satin and tulle. The slit up the front gave her short stature a nice vertical line.
Mae walked down the aisle unescorted with her head held high. She hadn’t invited her family, instead filling the bride’s pew with her friends from work. Georgeanne had tried to persuade her to include her estranged parents, but Mae was stubborn. Her parents hadn’t come to Ray’s funeral, she didn’t want them at her wedding. She didn’t want them to ruin the happiest day of her life.
While all eyes were on the bride, Georgeanne took the opportunity to study the groom. In his black tuxedo, Hugh was very handsome, but she wasn’t interested in his looks or the cut of his coat. She watched for his reaction to Mae, and what she saw alleviated some of her worries over the unexpected romance and hurried wedding. He lit up so much that Georgeanne half expected him to hold out his arms so Mae could run into them. His whole face smiled, and his eyes shined liked he’d just won the lottery. He looked like a man desperately in love. It was no wonder Mae had fallen so fast.
As Mae walked passed, she smiled at Georgeanne, then moved to stand beside Hugh.
“Dearly beloved…”
Georgeanne dropped her gaze to the toes of her beige leather T-straps. Desperately in love, she thought. The night before, she’d told Charles that she couldn’t marry him. She couldn’t marry a man she didn’t love desperately. Her gaze moved across the aisle to John’s black tassel loafers. Several times in her life, she’d seen him look at her with lust heavy in his blue eyes. In fact, the last time he’d come to pick up Lexie, she’d seen that “I want to jump your bones” look. But lust wasn’t the same as love. Lust didn’t even last past the next morning, especially with John. Her gaze traveled up his long legs, over his double-breasted jacket, and up his burgundy and navy tie. Her scrutiny moved to his face and to the blue eyes staring back at her.
He smiled. Just a pleasant little smile that sent off warning bells in her head. She turned her attention to the ceremony. John wanted something.
The women seated in the front pews began to softly weep, and Georgeanne glanced in their direction. Even if she hadn’t met them briefly before the wedding, Georgeanne would have guessed they belonged to Hugh. The whole family resembled each other, from his mother and three sisters to his eight nieces and nephews.
They cried throughout the short ceremony, and when it was over, they cried as they followed the recessional. Georgeanne and Lexie walked beside John back up the aisle and through the double doors. Several times the sleeve of his navy blazer almost touched her arm.
In the vestibule Hugh’s mother pushed her son out of the way to get to his bride. “You’re just a doll,” his mother declared as she hugged Mae and passed her around to the sisters.
Georgeanne, John, and Lexie moved out of the way as the small group of Mae’s friends and Hugh’s family gathered around the couple to congratulate them.
“Here.” Lexie handed the basket of rose petals to Georgeanne and sighed. “I’m tired.”
“I think we can go ahead and leave for the reception,” John said as he moved to stand behind Georgeanne. “Why don’t you and Lexie ride with me?”