Trivial Pursuits (Chicago On Ice Book 2) (7 page)

Pressing the dog’s
shirts?

“Please play with him while I plan this party,” Alessandra says, sticking the dog out for Magda to take. “You know I’m a stickler for people doing their jobs correctly. It requires my absolute full attention,” she declares, giving me and Collins the side-eye.

Now I want to pull a Landon move and crash this arrogant, rude, fashion-blogging heiress into the boards.

It would be worth a trip to the penalty box, I muse.

“Yes, Ms. Alessandra,” Magda says, sweeping Prince George out of her hands.

As soon as she disappears, Alessandra rolls her eyes. “Sorry. She’s
old,
and she doesn’t hear me when I call for her. It’s tiresome. So let me explain, very clearly, how I want this party to happen. You will need to rent a ballroom. At a luxury hotel. I want—”

I use all my focusing skills to keep my mouth from falling open. Alessandra goes on to list her requirements, all of them ridiculous. A ballroom? DJ? Custom invitations, flowers, photographer, videographer. A cake that is edible for both humans and Prince George. Oh, and a doggie treats bar, a custom chef-prepared dinner for the birthday boy and elaborate buffet for the adults, which should be fifty people, because this is an “intimate” affair.

I swear my entire future wedding will be less expensive than Prince George’s “intimate affair” first birthday party.

She finally stops and takes a breath. “Did you get all that, Collins?”

“Absolutely,” Collins says in a cheerful voice.

“Good. I hate repeating myself,” Alessandra says, tossing her silky black locks over her shoulder. Then her gaze shifts to me. “Now, the jewelry. First, are you sure you aren’t an amateur? You’re really young. I don’t want the pieces to look like shit.”

Of course I’m an amateur. I plan to use a children’s loom and make rubber bracelets for you, but don’t worry, they’ll match your outfit, so all is going to be FAB, Alessandra!

I hold that response inside and smile at her. “First, I assure you, I’m a strong designer. I have regular clients who return to me for custom pieces.”

“Yes, but do they have taste?”

Arrrrrrrrrgh, I want to tell her to screw off.

“Yes,” I say calmly. “My portfolio is available online if you would like to review it.”

Alessandra appears bored by the idea. “We’ll start with the idea. For the women, I want silver custom charms commemorating the occasion. They will need to be in the shape of a dog bone, with engraving. I assume you can engrave, right?”

“Yes,” I say, smiling my plastered on fake smile.

“Well, I need those, and then silver bone cufflinks with the same engraving for the male guests. And a commemorative tag for Princey Georgie to wear on his Louis Vuitton collar.”

I’m taking notes as she speaks. “I’ll come up with some concepts for your approval next week.”

“Oh, send them to Collins,” Alessandra says. “I have a zillion emails about the blog to wade through a day, so simplification is best.”

I can tell I’m going to get no further input from her on the design. She’s one of
those
clients. They want you to make it happen with no information, and when you get it wrong, you’re the idiot.

Alessandra stands up. “This is enough for now.”

I glance at Collins.
What?
We’ve learned
nothing
—not what colors she likes, what venues are acceptable, what kind of invitations—

“Alessandra, I do have a few quest—”

“Collins, your aunt assured me you were a capable planner,” Alessandra says, staring down at us. “So be capable. Do your homework and present me a plan next week that I will love. I mean, that’s why I hired you, right?”

Oh, she’s such a
bitch.

Worse, I know Collins has to sit here and take it.

“Of course,” Collins says, smiling. Then she quickly gathers her stuff up, and I do the same.

“MAAAAAAAAGGGGGDDAAA! COATS!” Alessandra yells. Then she turns to us. “Magda will see you out. MAGDA! I SAID COATS. DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Then she spins on her high-heeled boots and sashays out of the room. “Where is my Princey Georgie?” she says sweetly as she goes down the hall.

I don’t dare say a single word, or I’ll erupt in fury.

Collins retrieves her phone, and I think she’s avoiding looking at me for the same reason.

Magda hurries down the hallway. “Ladies, I’m sorry. Let me get your coats.”

“No problem,” I say, smiling cheerfully at her.

“Thank you for getting them,” Collins adds.

Magda pauses and eyes us carefully. Then it hits me. We’re the same age as Alessandra, but we don’t act like immature spoiled brats. She’s probably not used to younger people showing her respect.

“You’re welcome,” she says, heading down the hall.

Within minutes, she has returned with our coats. Collins slips into hers, and I wrap myself up in my wool overcoat, as it’s so cold out today.

Magda escorts us out of the luxury brownstone. We don’t speak until the door is firmly shut behind us and we’ve made our way down to the sidewalk.

“What an evil bitch,” Collins hisses. “I’m so sorry. I never would have dragged you into this if I knew what I was getting you into.”

I smile. “Well, you do know I’m unemployed. I need the work.”

“No,” Collins corrects, “you’re self-employed.”

“Under-employed.”

Then we both laugh.

“We’ll survive this,” Collins says aloud.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“I need to convince both of us,” Collins says.

We begin heading down the sidewalk, looking for a cab to hail. Collins wanted to do some shopping in Chicago, and I’m going to head back to the train station to go home and begin sketching.

“Do you want to stay in the city?” Collins asks. “We could hang out, maybe I can pick your brain on this party, and then end it with dinner and drinks?”

I shake my head. “Normally I’d say yes, but I’ve got plans tonight.”

Collins studies me. “What kind of plans?”

I hesitate. Only Aubrey and Beckett know about me and Landon. And is there a me and Landon anyway? We had one date. Landon even admitted he isn’t good at dating. I could see him tonight and he might never call me again.

Then I remember the feel of his lips on my forehead, warm and gentle, his hands in my hair, the way he gazed at me with those piercing blue eyes.

And I don’t believe that he’s going to run.

But I can’t say this yet to Collins. I know she’ll freak out because of who he is. About Landon’s flirty reputation. And about what happened with Troy and how she spent so many hours with me on Connectivity video chat trying to help me pick up the pieces of my heart all the way from West Lafayette, Indiana.

No, I need to see what happens tonight. Tonight will probably tell me everything I need to know about Landon’s intentions.

“Livy?” Collins asks, snapping me from my thoughts.

“Sorry, lost in thought. I’m going to the Buffaloes game with Aubrey,” I say casually, not lying, but not exactly telling her the whole truth either.

“Fun!” Collins says. Suddenly her phone goes off, and she reaches into her bag. “If it’s Alessandra asking for a status report I’ll quit,” she quips.

“I would never want your job, Collins,” I say truthfully. I honestly don’t know how she deals with all these parties and clients and emotions. I would throw myself under the covers and never come out if I were her.

Collins retrieves her phone and studies it, a sad expression crossing over her face. “Gabe.” Then she draws a breath of frozen air. “I’ve got to talk to him tonight. I can’t prolong this. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“No, you can’t,” I say, drawing her in for a hug. “But don’t worry about anyone else but you and Gabe. That’s all that matters.”

Collins steps back with unshed tears in her toffee-colored eyes. “I know.”

She spots a cab coming and hails it. “Wanna share?”

“You know, I think I’m going to go grab a coffee first,” I say, nodding. “So I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Collins says, nodding. “I love you, Livy.”

“I love you, too.”

I wave as she hops into the cab. I turn and head in the direction of the Starbucks we were in earlier.

And I’m definitely taking my own advice tonight. It doesn’t matter what people have said about Landon. It doesn’t matter if people think I’m making a huge mistake.

I’ve got to follow my heart.

And tonight I’ll see if Landon wants to do the same.

Chapter 10

TriviaPlayOrPass!

When was the word ‘selfie’ added to the
Merriam-Webster Dictionary?

I follow Aubrey down the steps of the Chicago Buffaloes arena to our seats, carrying my food and praying I somehow don’t slosh my way-overpriced craft beer out of my plastic cup and drop my sushi on the concrete floor. Normally I’m one of those girls who has to hold on to the handrail when taking the stairs—I’m paranoid about falling—but that’s logistically impossible with my hands full.

We make our way to Beckett’s set of seats right on the glass, and I manage to sit down without spilling a drop of my beer. I chalk that up as the first success of the evening.

But I still have a way to go before calling tonight a success. Mainly seeing if I can get Landon to go a touch deeper on our second outing. Will he reveal a bit more than what we talked about last night? While I love what I’ve learned about him so far, I want to know
more.
I have to see if he is willing to open up. I have to see if he wants the same from me, too.

And if we have the conversation I dream of and the evening ends in a real kiss?

Then it will be a very successful evening indeed.

“I still can’t believe you got the sushi rolls,” Aubrey says, interrupting my thoughts. She places her beer in her cup holder and balances her individual deep-dish cheese pizza and carton of fries in her lap as she shimmies out of her coat. “You need to come to a game and have junk food, Livy!”

It’s all I can do not to laugh. Aubrey is mystified by my healthy food choices, just as I am disgusted by her need to eat cheese pizza with fries at every opportunity she gets.

I peel off my coat, pushing it back against my seat, and adjust the sleeves on my gray hoodie, pulling them down toward my fingers because being right on the glass is
cold.

“So you didn’t elect to wear a sexy crop top tonight to seduce you-know-who?” Aubrey teases as she pops a fry into her mouth. “Or leather pants or stilettos?”

Then she inclines her head to the next section over, where two Puck Sluts, dressed scantily despite the fact that it’s fifteen degrees outside and freezing in here, are waiting for the players to come out for warm-ups.

I laugh. “Um,
no,
” I say firmly. “Would I like to be more dressed up? Yes. But it’s a
stadium.
I’m still frozen in this hoodie. And I’d look ridiculous dressed like that.”

“Actually, what you’re wearing is irrelevant since you’ve already taken off your clothes at his place last night,” Aubrey teases. “I bet you could seduce him with your Chicago Buffaloes hoodie and Converse shoes anyway.”

“Will you shut up?” I say, embarrassed.

And yes, my game outfit of a gray hoodie layered over a navy fitted T-shirt, J Brand skinny jeans, and my beloved Converse shoes is not exactly sexy, but at least it’s me.

And a part of me Landon needs to see,
I think. Because this outfit is me. What I wear when I’m working making jewelry or hanging out on the weekends. I’m casual, just as much as I am DesignerA on
TriviaPlayOrPass!

Aubrey lets out a wicked laugh, one that jars me from my thoughts. “Beckett had to go a few dates before I was stripping off my shirt. And yet you say you like to move slow.
Liar!
”

I feel my cheeks and neck burn hot.

“I’m going to go upstairs, buy a roasted beet salad, and force feed it to you if you don’t stop,” I threaten.

Aubrey gasps in mock horror. “You wouldn’t
dare!
”

“Oh, I
would
.”

“I call your bluff on that,” Aubrey says, lifting open the top of her pizza box. “If you went to get salad now, you’d miss Landy warming up. And you don’t want to miss him in all his hockey hotness, do you?”

I’m about to deny that when the opposing team, the San Francisco Breakers, skate out on the other end of the rink. People start moving forward, grabbing any open spot next to the glass, because they know the Buffaloes are about to come out on this end of the ice.

“And now, your CHICAGO BUFFALOES!” the PA announcer roars as Beckett leads the team out of the tunnel.

Anticipation fills me. I’ve always watched Landon before at games, but now it’s different. I don’t just see him as Landon Holder, sexy star defenseman of the Chicago Buffaloes.

I see him as Scott921. The man who spends time volunteering in secret. The one who dozes off with his cat on his chest. The one who knows Canadian prime ministers and placed the sweetest of kisses on my forehead last night.

That’s my Landon.

Aubrey and I park our food under our seats and stand up to watch the team come out. Beckett hits the ice first, and Landon is skating right behind him as he always does.

Landon is now coming around the net, toward where I’m standing against the glass. I draw an excited breath as he skates closer to me. Butterflies are fluttering like crazy in my stomach. My heart is pounding wildly as I take Landon in, looking sexy and gorgeous with his jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes.

And right now, those piercing blue eyes are locked straight on me.

I can’t breathe. I can’t.

Then he flashes me a huge smile, something he’s never done before in all the games I’ve gone to with Aubrey.

I smile back, excitement zipping through every part of me as he skates past.

“Landy!” a girl next to me yells, holding up a sign to the glass. “I love you!”

“He is hot
AF,
” another girl declares.

I know the translation for that—hot as fuck—and can’t help but agree.

Landon skates around again and smiles when he sees the sign. He gives the girl a slight nod, and she screams in utter joy.

Hmm. I wonder what the sign said.

And why did he acknowledge it?

Maybe it said, ‘It’s my birthday’ and Landon was being nice.

I glance at the what I hope is a Birthday Girl, dressed in super skinny jeans, high heels, and a plunging tight Chicago Buffaloes T-shirt showing off her perfect boobs.

Happy Birthday nod—good.

But a sign along the lines of ‘I want you and will be yours tonight’ that gets a nod? Not good.

“Stop the soundtrack of questions,” Aubrey says.

I blink, snapped from my thoughts. “What?”

“You’re watching Landy and your nose is creased,” Aubrey says. “Don’t overthink.”

“You’re right,” I say. “Besides, there’s nothing to overthink anyway.”

I had dinner with Landon
.
Dinner,
my head emphasizes.
That’s all.

But my heart says it was so much more than that.

“Oh, I disagree,” Aubrey says firmly. Then she leans closer to me, to speak into my ear over the pulsating music used for warm-ups. “Puck Sluts want what they can’t have. Remember that.”

“It was only dinner, Aubrey.”

“Oh, you can tell yourself that,” she says. “But we both know better, don’t we?”

I shift my attention back to Landon, who is standing beside Beckett as they take shots on goal. Landon fires the puck, sending it top shelf into the back of the net, and then skates around toward where we are standing.

My heart jolts the second he stops in front of me. “Selfie?” he yells at me.

The fans go crazy around us, with everyone wanting a selfie with Landon.

Landon puts his glove to the glass and taps where I’m standing. “You and me,” he yells back.

I nod happily and quickly retrieve my phone. Now my hands are shaking so I’m sure this picture will look like crap, but I’m so elated I don’t care.

I turn around, pressing my back against the glass, and hold the camera up.

And I lose my breath as I see Landon standing behind me, with a huge grin on his gorgeous face.

I snap the pic, feeling nothing but happiness sweep over me as I do.

I face Landon, who is still smiling at me.

“Is it good?” Landon asks.

“Very good,” I say, without evening checking the picture.  

He nods and skates off, back to take more shots with Beckett.

All around me I hear “Why did he pick her?” and “I want one!” and “Oh my God, she got a selfie!”

But none of that matters as I study the picture of the two of us.

Landon wanted a picture with me.

He can nod at other signs, smile at the Puck Sluts calling his name, but Landon chose me.

And that’s all I need to know.

I’ve decided I hate the San Francisco Breakers.

It’s halfway through the second period, and the Buffaloes goaltender is having a horrible night. The score is 3-0 despite the stellar defensive play of the Buffaloes. All three goals were soft. Landon has fought to keep the Breakers away from the net on every shift he takes, even blocking a shot right in front of the net instead of trusting that his goalie might actually stop the puck.

The Buffaloes have more shots on goal, too, 13-9. But nothing is going their way tonight.

Beckett is crossing center ice with the puck when a Breakers player flies off the bench and skates straight at him, throwing an elbow to the side of Beckett’s face.

“Beckett!” Aubrey yells, jumping up.

I rise from my seat, sick to my stomach. Beckett crumples on to the ice, shaking his head as if to clear the wicked blow he took.

But out of the corner of my eye, I see Landon skate hard across the ice. He rips his gloves off and punches the Breakers player who hit Beckett right across the jaw. Landon’s helmet goes flying off. Now they are fighting, and my stomach is now frozen in fear. Landon is pulling at this guy, trying to drag him down to the ice, and they are throwing punches right and left. Landon’s hair is flying all over the place, and,
oh,
do I see
blood
on him?

Beckett is up, shaking off the hit, and I hear Aubrey breathe in relief beside me. But my attention is on Landon, who has now dragged this other player down to the ice. Finally the referees get in and split them up.

The crowd roars for Landon, who is still yelling at the opposing player as he’s being dragged off to the penalty box.

“Five-minute for fighting and a ten-minute game misconduct for Number 37, Elia Dimytrov. Five minute for fighting and two minutes for instigating for Number 94, Landon Holder.”

The crowd boos in reaction to Landon’s penalty. I watch on the Jumbotron as Landon sits down in the penalty box, but then he’s being told to do something else. Landon gets up and skates back to his bench, then goes down the tunnel.
It’s the blood,
I think. He needs that cut cleaned up and a new jersey.

But as I see him walk off, I find myself breathing again.

Landon was all fists and fury in those few minutes, determined to punish the Breakers player who took the cheap shot on Beckett. He exploded on this guy and showed he would fight as much as his captain would when a teammate was in trouble.

I know hockey is dangerous. I know it can be violent. 

But I realize when someone you
know
is out on the ice, those facts have a whole new meaning behind them.

I sink down into my seat. Aubrey is still focused on Beckett, who is being checked out on the Buffaloes’ bench, but my thoughts go back to Landon as play resumes. And the contradiction of Landon beating the crap out of an opposing player versus the man who gently kissed my forehead last night is not lost on me.

There’s a lot to reconcile with Landon,
I think.

Is he the flirty playboy his reputation leads people to believe? Or is it that, a reputation? Will he disappear after our date tonight, thinking I’m too serious for him? Or will he want to see what happens if we begin to see each other?

One thing is for sure. I won’t figure any of this out from my seat right now.

But I will when we’re alone together later tonight.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Aubrey insists as we make our way through the stadium.

The Buffaloes went down 5-0 to the San Francisco Breakers, in a game where the goaltender was so bad he was pulled at the beginning of the third period. And the score would have been worse if it hadn’t been for Landon, who stopped two shots from sailing into the net with his stellar defensive play.

And now we’re headed down underneath the arena, to wait for Beckett and Landon to come out. Except Aubrey is insisting I wait in the lounge the Buffaloes have set up for the wives and girlfriends, which is the last place I want to be.

I shake my head in disagreement. “No, I’m not Landon’s guest. I’m yours. I don’t have any business being in the WAGS lounge. I don’t want people to think I assume that’s my place.”

And more to the point, I don’t want Landon to assume I think it’s my place to be there. That would totally freak him out. I mean, he’s never been into dating or relationships, and I plunk my butt in the
WAGS
lounge to wait for him?

“You’re my guest,” Aubrey clarifies. “Therefore you are simply waiting with me. To go out on a
date
with Landy.”

“Can’t we hang out in Stampede until it’s time?” I beg. I stop in front of the chic stadium club, and people bump all around us as we clog up traffic in the concourse. “Please?”

“You’re so neurotic,” Aubrey declares. “Landy wouldn’t even give this a millimeter of his brain space, you know.”

“But what if he does give it a millimeter of brain space?” I challenge.