Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Chloe

The warm, damp air of the Bahamas feels a lot like Florida in the summer. Thankfully, I had a few months to adjust to it before coming here for Roman and Olivia's wedding. I knew enough to pack multiple swimsuits, the lightest of sundresses, and all the sweat-proof makeup a girl can find at Sephora. I spent yesterday at the pool working on my tan, which ended in a full body pink burn that will probably just fade away into my normal pale color the day after I return to Florida. I saw a few people from the team floating around the hotel, but I did not see Nikolai.

Not that I'm looking.

I snort and sip the iced coffee I got in the lobby, staring out at the bluest water imaginable from the balcony of my third-floor hotel room. I am so looking. I can't seem to help myself. The man delivered the best kiss of my life, then pushed me away, all the while giving me longing glances and frowns like he has some opinion about how I live my life. He's taking up space in my brain and I don't appreciate it. I need that space to juggle all the details of my league.

Glancing at my phone for the hundredth time today, I refresh the screen to see that I now have twenty-two kids registered for the first open house. It's a scary number. If all of them want to join my league, I'll be looking at hiring another coach to assist me as soon as we get started.

I nearly choke, seeing the time in the corner of my phone screen. I slam my coffee cup down on the side table and rush back into my room to buckle my feet into the tall wedge sandals that take me all the way up to five-foot-seven. A slick of bright red lip gloss over the carefully painted lip liner and I'm off, tucking the tube into the tiny handbag I bought to match the red hibiscus flowers splashed all over my tea-length sundress. The straps around my neck leave my back bare and my breasts lovingly pressed together for impressive cleavage. I may or may not have had torturing Nikolai in mind when I bought this dress...

The wedding ceremony takes place outside in a stunning white gazebo in front of the backdrop of the ocean. White chairs break up the expansive green lawn. Flowers are positively bursting from every surface, making me feel like I'm on a secluded tropical island getaway. I slip into a chair next to Kaitlyn and compliment her dress. She's got that pregnancy glow, making a gorgeous couple with Banks. So much so, a little crackle of jealousy threatens to bring down my mood. They're clearly in love and planning for a future that I'll never have.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise and I shift in my seat to see Nikolai sitting down directly behind me with a few of the other players on the team. They all say hello to Banks, Kaitlyn, and me, but I'm only acutely aware of one of them.

"Hello," I say quietly, letting my gaze trail down his long body. Damn. The man can clean up, that's for sure. He's in linen pants, brown leather loafers, and a white button-down shirt that's open at the collar. The shaggy hair I once had my fingers in is styled like he just stepped away from a photo shoot.

"Chloe," he answers quietly. His gaze dips down to my cleavage and then darts to the side, studying the flowers tied to the chairs on the end of the row.

Soft music plays from hidden speakers as people continue taking their seats. I swivel back to the front and try to control my breathing. Why does this man do this to me? He just says my name and suddenly I'm about to hyperventilate? Get your shit together, Chloe.

The music changes and Roman and Olivia's three kids each come down the aisle and then stand up at the front by the gazebo. Roman steps through the back side of the gazebo where he's been waiting and hugs each of the kids before standing next to the officiant, looking like a million bucks in his tan suit. There's a moment of silence and then a haunting instrumental love song plays. The whole audience stands as one and looks toward Olivia's entrance. And this time, my attention isn't pulled away by the frustrating goalie. Olivia is stunning in a fitted white lace dress, the height of fashion and yet looking so at ease in her skin. I sneak a look at Roman to find his jaw locked tight and his hands wiping his eyes as he tries to hold it together. That's my favorite part of weddings; seeing the groom react to seeing his bride. Josh had smiled and nodded at me, but no tears. I'll always wonder if that was my first sign that we would have been better off staying friends.

"Welcome to the wedding of Roman LaFontaine and Olivia Wylder. You may be seated."

I go to sit down and nearly jump out of my skin when a single finger slides across my exposed back like a lover's caress. As quickly as it's there, it's gone. I glance back to see Nikolai clear his throat as he sits behind me and stares straight ahead. I turn my eyes forward again and try to grapple with the knowledge that he touched me slyly right there in the open. For the last few months, he's been doing his best to avoid touching me at all.

My brain, now officially hijacked by the man behind me, doesn't hear half of what's said, but I do manage to stand and clap when my newly married friends make their way back down the aisle with broad smiles. Nikolai gets lost in the sea of people as we all exit the lawn and make our way to the outdoor dance floor surrounded by round dinner tables and twinkle lights overhead. It's probably for the best because I see Dad at one of the tables, his hand over his head, waving at me.

"Hey, pumpkin. I saved you a seat. Gorgeous place for a wedding, huh?" He gives me a hug and we both sit.

"Most definitely. Then again, Olivia is always on point with trends and fashion. I would expect nothing less from her wedding." My gaze darts around the space, still not finding Nikolai.

Several players and their spouses fill in our table, and soon the conversation turns to hockey. The first course is served, and Dad decides now is the time to turn his attention to my business. He gives each of his players a stern glance.

"Did you all spread the word about Chloe's youth hockey league? First open house is next week, you know."

Heads nod and I smile graciously. "It's all good, Dad. I have plenty signed up already."

His phone rings, cutting off his reply. He looks at the screen and fumbles over his words. "I, um, gotta take this. Excuse me." He scrapes his chair back and rushes off, phone pressed to his ear.

I narrow my eyes, salad forgotten. Conversation continues to flow around me. Danny's wife, Sara, leans over and whispers to me. "Your dad's been getting a lot of phone calls he's been secretive about. I don't want to start trouble, but the guys have been talking about it. Is everything okay with him?"

I dab a napkin at my lips as the waiters whisk away our salad plates and replace them with our main meal. "Interesting you should say that. I was wondering what's going on too. What do the guys think the phone calls are about?"

Sara looks uncomfortable. "They think he's dating someone."

I nod thoughtfully as I sip my champagne. That's it. I'm going to corner Dad tonight and make him spill the beans. If people are already talking, as his daughter, I have a right to know what's going on in my father's life. My rock lobster and fried plantains don't taste like much, not with my head spinning about Dad.

And Nikolai. I finally see the hot-and-cold goalie when the waiters slide miniature slices of rum cake in front of us. He's got a phone pressed to his ear as he leaves the area too. With regret, I push away the cake and stand up, letting Sara know I'm running to the bathroom. Dad's still not back and now Nikolai has left. What's going on with these guys? Don't they know it's rude to leave a wedding reception early?

The quick trip to the bathroom doesn't yield either of the men, so I head back to the reception, seeing that a band has begun playing, and Roman and Olivia are out on the dance floor, taking their first dance as husband and wife. It's adorable the way they look at each other like no one else exists. What must it feel like to be the center of someone's attention like that? The song changes to another and more couples take to the dance floor.

"You have to dance with me, beautiful." Bobby materializes next to me and holds out his hand, his youthful face sporting a wide grin.

I roll my eyes but let him tug me onto the dance floor. He takes liberties, his hands coming around my waist and dipping low enough I kick him in the shin until he moves them upward a few inches. He howls with laughter, and I join in, finding him a breath of fresh air. He's harmless fun. We dance through two songs, chatting away the whole time before I beg for a break and more champagne. He moves away to grab me a glass at one of the bars, leaving me at the side of the dance floor.

A harsh voice in the distance has me turning around and squinting. Out there in the dark by a lit tiki torch is a tall figure on the phone. The man turns and the fire dances across his features. Nikolai. And he looks angry.

I turn on my heel without giving it much thought, striding across the grass toward him. He hangs up and looks up at the dark sky like he's biting back some creative Russian curse words.

"Did you break a nail? I hate when I do that. So annoying."

His head drops and his eyes burn into my already heated skin. "You should not be here."

I twirl my finger in the air. "Like, the Bahamas? Or here on this pathway with you? You'll have to be more specific."

"Chloe," he growls. The man actually growled my name and now I don't want to hear my name said any other way.

I step closer, tilting my head back to stare up at him. The bobbing fire makes his cheekbones look like they've been carved from granite. "Nikolai," I purr.

He reaches out and for one intoxicating moment, I think he's going to bestow another one of those mind-bending kisses on me. Instead, he puts his hand on my back and spins me around. The feel of his palm against my bare skin sends a shiver down my body. He pushes, forcing me to walk back to the reception. I go along peacefully, hoping for...something...anything from Nikolai that's not shutting me down.

I'm disappointed when he gets right to the edge of the light from the party and gives me another push, taking his hand from my back. "Go back to the party and dance with your little boys."

My mouth drops open, but Nikolai has already spun back around, his phone jammed to his ear, barking out Russian words I do not understand. He walks away and I watch him go, heart thumping sadly in my chest. Anger replaces the humiliation of him pushing me away again. I stiffen my spine, forget the way his single hand covered the entire width of my back, and make a beeline for the bartender. I do what he says. I drink, have fun, and dance with all the boys I can find, all the while flipping off Nikolai Drugov in my mind.