Can you believe what happened near the end? Crazy to see those two chicks fighting.” She leaned closer, letting her breast graze my forearm. “You know they only did it for attention since no one really cares about women’s hockey and they finally had people watching them.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that type of comment and I hated that Gabi and other female players had to deal with this attitude—especially from other women. I flashed her a fake smile. “We’ll agree to disagree on that point. Enjoy the game. I’ve got to get back.”
She frowned. “But I thought maybe we could have a drink and catch up. It’s been a while.”
Not only did I not have a clue who this woman was, I couldn’t remember if I’d slept with her.
There’s something to be proud of.
Guess I’d be having that shot of scotch in the skybox after all.
I started to walk away and heard her shout, “I’ll catch you later.”
As I returned to club level, the oddity of our other Lund family members not being in this skybox occurred to me. Since my cousin Annika’s husband, Axl, played for the Wild, she’d scored her own box. I assumed that’s where my cousins and aunts and uncles were.
When Jax had told me about this exhibition this morning, he’d mentioned the Wild organization had donated one of the corporate boxes for the Western Conference players, their friends and families. So I’d walked in only knowing my parents, Lucy and Mimi and the instructors from Lakeside.
Then I’d recognized Tyson and assumed the blonde with him was Dani, Gabi’s sister. Two other women were in the back getting their drink on. From their expert commentary and their acquaintance with Dani, I suspected they were Gabi’s former teammates.
I’d been so pissed off that Gabi hadn’t told me about her participation in the exhibition that I hadn’t spoken to anyone while the teams went head-to-head.
But now that I’d returned and the Wild game had started, I had no choice but to be social.
After a shot.
I waited at the bar for the pour, and Gabi’s sister moved in beside me. “Is Gabi okay?” she asked, which threw me, because how had she known that’s where I’d gone?
After tossing back the shot, I chased it with a drink of water.
Dani said, “Tyson recognized you as Gabi’s friend, so I figured you’d gone to check on her.”
I faced her, allowing a moment to look for her resemblance to Gabi, but found none. This woman still had the baby-faced features of a girl, with her big brown eyes and long blond hair. Whereas Gabi was all woman.
Then she offered me a shy smile. “Oh. I’m Dani Welk, by the way. Gabi’s sister.”
“Good to meet you, Dani. I’m Nolan Lund, Jax’s brother and Gabriella’s . . . friend.”
“How is she?”
“Fuming, mostly, with a side of indignant.”
“Sounds like her. She and Ass”—she cringed—“I mean, she and Amelie have hated each other for years.”
“Don’t editorialize her nickname on his account,” a husky voice said behind me. “He’s Stonewall’s brother and the Hammer’s cousin by marriage. He understands bad blood in hockey, am I right, Lund?”
Then the voice turned into a body that moved in on my other side. I turned my head and we were eye to eye, which put her in the six-foot-two range. She pointed at my empty shot glass and said, “Two more,” to the bartender.
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
“Nope. I’m Mariah Aguirre. Gabi’s former teammate and longtime friend.”
“Nolan Lund. But you knew that.”
“Yep. Gabi roped me’n my girlfriend, Amy”—the woman she gestured to next to her offered me her hand and a shy smile—“into helping out with the LGBTQ mixer on Saturday. Then we got the invite to this and I’m like . . . hot damn, we’re movin’ on up in the world.”
I laughed. “I’m glad you’re here to support Gabriella and I’m really happy you’re helping out on Saturday.”
Mariah handed me a shot.
My protest, that I didn’t need another shot, died when she said, “To Gabi.”
“To Gabi.” I touched my glass to hers and knocked the booze back.
She said, “Whoo-ee. You and me could get into some trouble. None of these pansy-asses appreciate good scotch.”
I snagged a bottle of water. “Somebody please fill me in on the bad blood between Gabi and that Amelie chick.”
“We call her Asswipf—ass whiff—not only because she’s a stanky asshole, but her damn initials are right there in the name; Amelie SanSimeon-Wipf. Get it?” She laughed. “Gabi came up with it.