Want You to Want Me, Page 2

  “Omigod, spare me! If you say something lame like your love transcends intimacy”—she snorted—“I swear I will brain you with my goddamned hockey stick.”

  That one was even better.

  “We haven’t been intimate because we knew it would hurt you. This is a screwed-up situation, but the last thing either Dani or I want to do is cause you any pain, Gabi.” A pause. “You introduced us, for god’s sake.”

  “This is why I don’t do nice things. They always come back to kick me in the ass,” she retorted.

  Another pause.

  “Will you knock off the sarcasm for one minute and listen to me?” Tyson asked.

  “Fine. Say what you need to.”

  “Things haven’t been great between you and me for a while.”

  “You aren’t seriously thinking about blaming me for the fact you’re lusting after my little sister, are you?”

  “No, but your response to this conversation is proof of why you and I don’t work. After Dani left for Florida to train for the Olympics, you pulled back from her, from me and from your former teammates—teammates who resented the hell out of Dani because she was there instead of you. Dani had no one to talk to but me. So we spent a lot of time together. All of it platonic, all of it that getting-to-know-you stuff that you and I never bothered to learn about each other.”

  “So because I have no clue what your favorite color is—”

  “Will you stop interjecting your personal regrets into this conversation? Because we both know you preferred hookups to a relationship for this very reason, Gabi.”

  Ouch.

  He sighed. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came here to break it off in person and to ask you to not be too hard on Dani about this. She worships you. The fact her feelings changed for me has been eating her alive.”

  Silence.

  “What happens after you leave here, Ty?”

  “We both move on.”

  She mumbled something I didn’t hear.

  Then Tyson stepped back and Gabriella barreled past him. She’d almost reached me lurking in the corner, when Tyson said, “Wait.”

  She whirled back around. “What?”

  “I wasn’t done talking to you.”

  “Tough shit, because I’m done talking to you. I need to finish closing procedures, so feel free to let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.” She threw open the inner rink door with such force it juddered against the concrete and slammed shut.

  Tyson ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. He gave the arena door a long look, almost as if he was stupidly considering going after her, before he turned and spotted me.

  I spoke first. “Sorry. I stopped to get some paperwork and I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

  “Calling it a conversation is putting a positive spin on it,” he muttered. He studied me. “Who are you that you’re stopping by this late for paperwork?”

  “I’m Nolan Lund. Jax’s brother.”

  “Did Gabi know you were here?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been on the receiving end of infuriated Gabriella and my first thought was to flee.” I resisted telling him it’d be wise for him to do the same before she stormed back here.

  His gaze sharpened. “I take it you two are friends?”

  “We’re acquainted. Why?”

  “Could you stick around for a little longer and make sure she’s okay?”

  Was this dude for real? I scrutinized him and realized he was truly concerned for Gabi’s well-being. Still, he was an asshole for dumping her for her sister. “Sure.”

  With a muttered “Thanks” he shot out of there like his ass was on fire.

  Not that I blamed him.

  I probably should’ve done the same thing—then it was too late. She stomped out of the rink, demanding, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Two

  GABI

  An awkward moment followed, where neither of us said anything.

  Nolan Lund, that good-looking bastard, broke the silence first. “Stopped to get some paperwork and saw a guy rush in here. I figured you were alone, so I thought I’d check and see if everything was okay.”

  “I’m peachy keen, jellybean.”

  He raised one arrogant eyebrow. “Quoting Rizzo from Grease? I’m shocked.”

  I shrugged. “I identify with the mouthy ones.”

  His intense blue eyes searched my face. “What happened?”

  “Is that why you’re here? Hoping to catch me messing around on your brother’s dime?”

  “Jesus. No. And indignant deflection won’t work, Gabriella.”

  “I can’t believe you’re surprised I don’t want to talk about my feelings when it comes to my boyfriend. Or should I say ex-boyfriend.”

  “Your ex? Since when?”

  “Since about two minutes ago.”

  “Wait? You broke up with him here? Tonight?”

  “Don’t flatter me, slick. We both know you overheard him breaking up with me. And if you stuck around to watch the train wreck, you’ll be sadly disappointed that I’m not about to go off the rails.”

  “Your ex might’ve been thinking you’d have a breakdown.”

  “Why?”

  “He asked me if we were friends.”

  “What did you say?”

  He bestowed the sexy, smirking grin that had me dreading his answer. “I told him the truth.”

  “That we’re enemies?”

  “You think we’re enemies?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No. Frenemies, maybe.”

  My eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “I said we knew each other since my brother owns this place. Then he asked me to make sure you were all right.”

  “Of course he did. Because he wants to come off as the good guy.”

  In the entryway, Nolan reached for the lighting panel the same time I did, and his rough-skinned fingers brushed mine.

  I jerked my hand back, surprised he didn’t have soft, white-collar hands, since he held a soft, white-collar job. “Thanks for your concern, but I got this.”

  Outside the front door, he said nothing while I dug out my keys.

  “Look. I appreciate you sticking around, but as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Then explain to me how you planned to lock up the building with a can opener.”

  I glanced down. Sure enough; I’d clutched the carabiner with my random mini tools in my hand, not my key ring.

  Goddammit. What was wrong with me?

  You’re not invincible. This breakup has affected you.

  After I locked up and set the alarm, I turned around and Nolan was right there. Nearly nose to nose with me. No sarcastic smirk on his too-perfect lips. No mean glint in his mesmerizing laser-blue eyes.

  “Just because you’re not currently sobbing over the breakup doesn’t mean you’re not distracted by it. Get pissy with me, Gabriella, but I’m not letting you get behind the wheel to drive home when you’re acting like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the poster girl for road rage.”

  Girl. As if.

  But you are a little ragey, Gabs, admit that.

  “Well, lucky for you, ace, I’m not headed home.”

  “Doesn’t matter where you’re going. I’ll drive you.”

  I blinked at him. “Did you seriously just offer to drive me to the bar?”

  “Which bar?”

  “Buddy’s.”

  That gave him pause. “You sure you wanna go there?”

  “No, Nolan, I’d rather go to Flurry,” I retorted. “That’s your usual hangout, isn’t it? But since I don’t own the type of clothes that’d pass their snooty dress code, I’m going to Buddy’s. Plus, h
alf-price happy hour drinks started at nine. Some of us have to stick to a budget.”

  “Then Buddy’s it is.” Nolan gestured to his car.

  His sleek, two-door sportscar, painted a gorgeous bright blue with glossy black accents, hogged two parking places. Just as I opened my mouth to call him out on his assholish parking behavior, a series of beeps sounded, and the car doors moved.

  Up.

  Holy shit. It had doors similar to the DeLorean in Back to the Future. It might’ve been the hottest car I’d ever seen.

  Not that I’d tell him that.

  But my awe must’ve been apparent because I heard him snicker.

  “Admit it. The doors are wicked cool.”

  “They do have that alien spaceship vibe, Chewie.”

  “Chewie?” Nolan laughed again. “I’m definitely more Lando Calrissian than Chewbacca.”

  “Dream on. So is this a new toy? I’ve never seen you drive it.”

  “It’s not a new car, but it’s new to me. I bought it to celebrate after I was named future CEO. It’s not great in the snow, so it’s been stored. Today looked decent so I took it out.”

  Winters in Minnesota were brutal, but we’d had above-average temps the past week as we drifted into spring. “What kind of car is this?”

  “Bugatti Veyron.”

  “Never heard of that brand.”

  He shrugged, not surprised I wasn’t familiar with a vehicle that probably cost over a million bucks.

  “Get in.”

  It was cool watching the doors slide shut. The flashy blue leather interior and knobs and buttons in weird places gave it that exclusive vibe. This vehicle most likely cost more than I’d earn in a decade. Or a lifetime, the way my career had gone of late.

  Nolan pulled out of the parking lot. “Buddy’s. You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure it’s no surprise to you I like dive bars with cheap booze.”

  Buddy’s was only two miles down the road from Lakeside Ice Arena. But a mile across the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. I’d started hanging out here after my first night working at Lakeside more than a year ago. I’d needed a drink after dealing with my boss at the time, a little troll of a man with an inferiority complex, who, thankfully, was no longer employed at the rink. I still dropped in occasionally, but not nearly as much as I used to.

  Nolan eyed the parking area with distaste, choosing to parallel park beneath a streetlight. As soon as he opened the doors, I bounded out of the car and headed to the front entrance.

  Being at Buddy’s soothed me, the knowledge that some things resisted change. Rusty metal siding formed an entryway. The bullet holes in the scarred metal door were from an incident years past between a jealous girlfriend and her cheating boyfriend. The door hadn’t been replaced, since it still served as a badge of honor for the owners and a helluva conversation piece for the regulars.

  Inside the doorway, I scanned the space. With only about a dozen customers, it was a slow night.

  “Gabi!” a voice boomed from behind the bar.

  My gaze winged to the bartender and I grinned. “Rico.”

  “Been a while, champ.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’ve been busy.”

  “Haven’t we all. I missed that smiling face. Have a seat.” He yelled at the guy sitting in “my” chair to make room for Buddy’s most famous customer.

  Famous. Right. I crossed the sticky linoleum and mouthed Thanks to the gray-haired dude who’d relinquished his wobbly barstool for me.

  Rico leaned across the shellacked bartop. “First one’s on me. Margarita rocks, right?”

  “Aww, you remembered. You really did miss me.”

  He smiled. “None of these assholes know anything about hockey. I missed arguing with you.”

  Then the bar went quiet.

  No surprise as to why.

  Nolan Lund.

  A beautiful billionaire dressed to the nines was an oddity at Buddy’s.

  To Rico I said, “He’s with me.” Rather than releasing an ear-piercing whistle to get Nolan’s attention, I waved my hand over my head. I did have some class.

  “With you?” Rico said. “As in—”

  “He’s my DD.”

  “Ah. That explains it. That suit is too damn nice for him to be your parole officer.”

  “Hilarious.”

  Nolan took the seat beside me, next to the wall.

  Rico set a full glass in front of him.

  “What’s this?” Nolan asked.

  “Coke. Unless you’d prefer diet. You’re her DD, right?” Rico didn’t wait for his response. He returned to making my drink, presenting it with a flourish.

  I took a long sip and sighed. “Perfect as usual, Rico. Thanks.”

  “Lemme know if you need anything else, champ.”

  Nolan and I sat in silence for several long minutes. From the corner of my eye I watched him take in the space. The limited selection of top-shelf booze reflected in the faded mirror. The scuffed wooden bar spread out in a long, blocky C shape. The TVs suspended from the ceiling. The lone pool table, currently unused. The throwback jukebox, also quiet. The plastic molded bar signs—Hamm’s, Grain Belt, Olympia, Schlitz, Pabst Blue Ribbon—beer brands straight out of the 1960s. The customers, a mix of biker-looking types, eyes on the TVs, and couples sharing laughter over pitchers of beer. The lone cocktail waitress, Brenda, a well-preserved sixtyish woman and also Rico’s mother, loaded glasses in the undercounter dishwasher.

  After Nolan pulled his phone out, I expected he’d start scrolling through it. But he set it aside, reached up and loosened his tie.

  “Aren’t you worried about someone stealing your car?”

  “It’s insured.” He sipped his Coke. “It’s also got an alarm system that’ll wake the dead and alert the cops.”

  He’d said that loud enough so anyone listening in the bar knew not to fuck around with it.

  I stirred my drink, a million other thoughts racing through my brain.

  We must’ve sat there awhile, because finally, Nolan said, “Are you going to talk to me? Or do I have to wait until you’ve had several of those before you loosen up?”

  “Fine. I’ll spill my guts. Have you ever been dumped?”

  A beat passed. “No. I haven’t.”

  Of course he hadn’t. “It sucks.”

  I drained my drink and signaled to Rico for another. “It’d be easier to pretend this breakup blindsided me. But the truth is . . . I deserved to get kicked to the curb.”

  “Why?”

  “Besides the fact I’m a shitty girlfriend? Before Tyson showed up and confronted me, I hadn’t seen him in over a week. And in that week, he’d texted me twice. Which is two more times than I’d texted him.”

  “That answers my next question.”

  “Which is?”

  “If you missed him, which would be no, since apparently you forgot all about him.”

  I tossed ten bucks at Rico when he served the fresh drink.

  “How long were you with Tyson?”

  I licked the salt off the rim of my glass and took a sip. “Nine months. I knew him from University of North Dakota—UND. A bunch of us displaced hockey players who’d relocated to the Twin Cities hung out regularly. He and I usually ended up together, so we started dating. A few months in, he took leave from his assistant coaching job at a private high school to be a third-level assistant coach for the U.S. Olympic Women’s Ice Hockey Team.” I scowled. “Never occurred to me not to introduce him to my little sister, Dani, the newest member on the team, since he’d be part of her coaching staff. To be honest, I was relieved that Dani would have someone to look after her.” I sighed. “It’s my own fault. Out of sight, out of mind. Literally. Both of them. They talked about each other to me all the time, and I thought it was cute they were so friendly. Since
returning from the Olympics, both Dani and Tyson went silent on me.”

  “So you truly didn’t know about them sneaking around behind your back?”

  I looked over at him. “If you were there, then you heard Tyson’s claim that nothing physical had happened between them.”

  He studied me. “And you believe that?”

  “Yep. Tyson is the good guy that all women want to be in a relationship with. Dani is the stereotypical good girl that all men are looking for.” I refocused on stirring my drink. “It’s like some code of honor thing for them. Neither of them would purposely hurt me, which is why this situation will be awkward as hell for a while.”

  “You’re not in the wrong here.”

  “Aren’t I?” Maybe that’s why I wasn’t bawling my eyes out.

  And maybe—just maybe—a small part of me felt relieved. Ty and I had always been better friends than lovers. Sex hadn’t been lousy between us, it just hadn’t been a priority. I’d chalked up the lack of lust to conflicting schedules and then physical distance after he’d temporarily relocated to Florida.

  “What’s going through your mind right now?” Nolan asked.

  “That I need to find a great rebound ASAP.”

  Nolan choked on his soda.

  Rico grinned at me as he reached into the cooler. “Just say the word, champ, and I’ll jump through all the hoops to be your rebound man.”

  Laughing, I shooed him away. My phone vibrated and I pulled it out.

  Three missed calls from Dani. I shoved it back in my pocket and let the current call go to voice mail.

  “Was that your sister?”

  “Be interesting to see how many times she’ll call to try and explain.”

  Nolan’s eyebrows lifted. “To explain? Not to beg your forgiveness?”

  I shrugged and knocked back another swig.

  Neither of us said anything for several long minutes. I’d started to tell him he could take off and I’d find my own way home, when he spoke.

  “You play pool?”

  I kept my expression bland. “Sometimes. Why?”

  “Table is open. Let’s have a game.”

  “Sure.” I motioned Rico over. “A shot of Cuervo and some quarters, please.”

  Rico poured two shots; one for me and one for him. He winked. “This way you’re not drinkin’ alone.”