Gabi gently placed her fingers over my mouth. “Stop obsessing. It’ll be fine. If Curtiss doesn’t show up, then we’ll YouTube it. You can learn how to do anything on there.”
I started to respond, but her thumb was lightly sweeping over the swollen spot on my bottom lip and I sort of forgot how to breathe.
“This looks better too.” Then her blue-gray eyes met mine. “Have you been icing it properly?”
“Yes.” I puckered up and kissed her thumb. “With a tumbler of scotch on ice.”
“Whatever works.”
She retreated and sipped her coffee, but I felt her watching me.
Which made it hard to focus. My phone buzzed and I answered it without checking the caller ID. “Nolan Lund.”
“Morning, boss. I’m headed to the bowling alley. Just wanted to make sure you’re on your way since you’re the only one with keys.”
“I’m already here.”
That surprised Sam. “Oh. Aren’t you an eager beaver this morning?”
“Are you even using the phrase ‘eager beaver’ in the right context?”
Gabi blushed.
Why did I find that so damn cute?
Sam sighed. “Since you’re so contrary, I’m eating your muffin.”
I snickered. My mind was on one track today—I didn’t dare look at her again.
“Never mind. See you in fifteen.” He hung up.
“Sam is on his way. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do because he’s got the lists.”
“I don’t want to bowl you over with my suggestions, but we could go back into the mechanical room and flip some switches.”
“Hilarious. Let’s put a pin in that idea for now.”
She smirked at me.
“Come on, I’ll let you watch while I find some lights.”
“I never asked how many kids signed up for the event.”
“A hundred and fifty. Above our initial projections.”
Gabi continued to stroll around, checking everything out. “Since this is a LCCO event, will there be media coverage?”
I shook my head. “Strictly a private mixer. I wasn’t certain we could skip the parental permission forms since the attendees will all be minors, but Sam assured me it wouldn’t be necessary since it’s not a school-sanctioned event.” That little niggling ball of doubt started unraveling in my chest. “I hope kids show up. My fear is that they’ll wake up today and think . . . No one will ever accept me, so I’ll just stay home.”
“That is a possibility. But there are also those kids who will be nervous as hell to come, but they’ll do so anyway and maybe for the first time ever, they’ll be surrounded by people who accept them, and they’ll see they’re not as different or alone as they’d thought.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Why’d you decide to do an event like this?”
“I wish I had a great, uplifting story as an inspiration. But I’d been waffling on two other ideas when Sam suggested this. I immediately got on board.” I swigged my coffee. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I would’ve guessed you, as a member of the Lund family, would host a sports-themed event.”
“I’m sure Jax will do that once he’s caught up building his business empire. As far as my cousins, we all do our own thing when it comes to LCCO. Annika sponsors a coat drive. Brady and Lennox host tutoring classes. Walker and Trinity build and paint sets for community theater. Jensen and Rowan run a summer camp that focuses on music, dance and art.” I smiled. “After today? The pressure will be on Ash and Dallas to get their projects lined up.”
“Woo-hoo!” sounded from the entryway. “The star power is here, baby, so light ’em up!”
“Back here,” I shouted.
Gabi’s friends Mariah and Amy wandered in.
“Write it on the calendar, Mariah is early for a change!” Gabi said.
“What do you mean, early?” Mariah whirled on Amy. “Woman, did you lie to me about what time we were supposed to be here?”
“Yes. How was I to know you’d actually listen to me for a change and we’d be nearly an hour early?” Amy smiled at me. “Hey, Nolan.”
“Amy. Thanks for coming.”
“What do you want us to do?”
Sam hustled in, laptop bag dangling from the crook of his arm as he carried in two boxes. “I’d love for one of you to grab the other box of volunteers’ T-shirts in the back of my car while I set up the coffeemaker.”
“You bought a coffeepot?”
He looked at me over the tops of his sunglasses. “You bought a coffeepot. You know I don’t function at all without massive amounts of caffeine.”
“Yes, we agreed not to discuss the Miami incident ever again.”
Mariah and Amy returned, and introductions were made. Then Sam’s friends Markus and Edison arrived.
Sam clapped his hands to stop the chattering. “I have two boxes of T-shirts for volunteers so please find a size that fits and put it on. If someone approaches you claiming to be a volunteer, send them to me. Since we are dealing with minors, I have a list of officially recognized volunteers.”
While Sam passed out other assignments, I snagged the bright blue T-shirt off the top of the pile that had my name on the sticky note. I checked out the design as I walked to the locker room area. VOLUNTEER in big black letters across the front, curved over a rainbow. The LCCO logo on the back. Perfect. Simple with clear sponsorship.
I’d just removed my button-down shirt, when I heard, “Nolan?” I turned around.
Gabi stood there, gaping at me. “Oh. I, ah . . . sorry.”
The way her eyes devoured me didn’t say “sorry” at all.
So I flexed my arms and tightened my abdomen as I leaned over to pluck the T-shirt off the bench. “Did you want something?”
“I . . . ah . . .”
Erasing the distance between us allowed her a better—closer—view of my torso, because she hadn’t looked me in the eyes since she’d walked in. “Gabriella? Are you okay?”
She blinked and tilted her head back to meet my gaze, then jammed her finger into my sternum. Hard. “No, I’m not okay, you sneaky jackass.”
“Excuse me?”
Another poke, harder this time. “I really thought the reason you wore such fancy-ass custom-made clothing was because you’re the brainy type, not the athletic type . . . kind of like when that super-nerdy character Chidi from The Good Place whipped off his shirt after being doused by sprinklers and everyone was like . . . whoa, he is built like that? Now I see that you had this kind of a dream body underneath those ridiculously trendy clothes the whole goddamned time I’ve known you. What the fuck?”
“Why are you pissed off?”
“Because how is that fair? Seriously. You’ve got this beautiful face, and a stupidly charming personality, and you’re smart, and disgustingly rich, and freakishly stylish, and now I find out you are sporting a ripped and toned physique too? You suck, Lund.”
How could she throw out such a flattering list of compliments and make them sound like insults? Jesus. What was wrong with her?
What is wrong with her? What is wrong with you? Since that is one of your favorite things about her.
I couldn’t help it: I laughed.
“It’s not funny.” She got this gleam in her eye that scared me a little.
“What?”
“Level with me, sport. Do you have a big dick too?”
What the hell? “No. I think it’s about average.”
“Oh. Well . . . that’s good. There’s still a chance for us then.”
And . . . I was fucking gone for with this woman. Crazy, mad about, completely wild for her.
Before she retreated, which I sensed she was about to by her body language, I circled my hand around her wrist and brought it to my mouth to nip a
t the finger that’d been poking me. “Now you know how bowled over I was when you stripped down to nearly nothing to try on clothes on Monday. Every inch of you is utter perfection, Gabriella, which you cover up in hockey gear and tracksuits.” I pressed my lips to the top of her head. “You are glorious and I’m obsessed.”
We stared at each other and I swore the temperature of the room went up fifty degrees.
“Nolan.”
“Yes?”
“Are you ever gonna kiss me?”
Angling my head, I bussed her cheek. Then dragged my mouth to her ear. “Yes. But not until that lip is healed.”
She muttered something about me being a sadistic cock of the walk.
I nuzzled her temple, inhaling the sweet warmth of her skin. “Harsh words from a woman who smells like goddamned cookies.”
“Boss . . . Oh, crap, sorry, I’ll come back.”
Sam’s interruption snapped Gabi out of it, and she stepped back. “Put a damn shirt on, loser.” Then she turned and stormed off.
I never did find out why she’d tracked me down.
* * *
* * *
I needn’t have worried about no kids showing up for the event.
We were absolutely slammed from a half an hour before we were set to start.
Not all the attendees wanted to bowl, which actually worked out because the lanes could only accommodate 144 bowlers at a time. The food truck meals were complimentary, but the attendees had to sign in and get a ticket before jumping into a line.
The “alphabet” volunteers wandered among groups of kids, talking to them, answering questions, just hanging out, being their authentic selves.
Gabi and I weren’t working together, but I’d catch a glimpse of her ponytail bobbing as she cut through the crowd. It soothed me to know she was here.
Sam and I were dividing up the prizes for the bowling tournament winners when I heard a familiar voice.
“Nolan, darling, this is amazing.”
I got up and skirted the table to hug my mother.
Edie Lund was a stunning woman; ageless, her asymmetrical bob complemented her strong jaw, high cheekbones and wide smile. I’d inherited her eye color and her fashion sense. Although she’d dressed down in navy-colored silk harem pants, an emerald and navy plaid jacket over an ivory lace blouse that matched her navy cloth pumps trimmed in ivory, her style screamed classy. A sapphire necklace, emerald earrings and pearl bracelets rounded out her look.
She gave me that raised Mom eyebrow. “Do I pass inspection?”
I grinned. “Always. Great weekend outfit.”
“I tried to get her to wear jeans,” my dad complained. “No such luck.”
This had been an ongoing joke for years. My mother never wore denim out of the house and my dad would live in jeans on the weekend if Mom let him. Besides, I really didn’t need to hear Dad going on about how fantastic her ass looked in jeans anyway.
He held his arms out. “No comment on my great outfit?”
Dad had refused to wear “fancy” jeans, meaning ones he couldn’t get at a sporting goods store. He preferred the Levi’s 501 shrink-to-fit, button-fly style, which he wore with Orvis oilskin leather hiking boots. Beneath his brown leather bomber jacket, he’d donned a hunter-green waffle-weave Henley. I hid a smirk that mom had coordinated his outfit to hers. “You look outdoorsy, Dad. Fit as the proverbial fiddle.”
“Perfect for hiking in the mall, eh?”
I took in his dark hair, streaked with gray. “Did you get a haircut?”
“Yes, but I swear this is the last one. I’m thinking of growing my hair out. Past my ears at least.”
“Dude. You’re almost seventy.”
“Still younger than Jagger and Clapton and they’ve both got flowing locks.” He threw back his shoulders. “I could pull it off.” He winked at me. “My old man is breathing fire in hell at the idea of ‘any son of his’ contemplating hippie hair.”
“I say you oughta do it.”
Then Dad noticed my assistant. “Sam! I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“And why is that, sir?” Sam asked.
Mom and I exchanged a look—sometimes, despite his being CEO, what came out of Archer Lund’s mouth wasn’t PC.
“Because you’re usually rocking those suits that cause envy throughout the office,” Dad added as clarification. “Love the casual look.”
“Thank you, sir,” Sam said. “I’m pleased you decided to see LCCO at work, especially on your day off.”
I squinted at my mom. “Are you checking up on me?”
“I’m here offering my support to my very capable son, nothing more.” She gestured to the wall-to-wall people. “This all came together very well.”
“We weren’t sure yesterday if it would. Sam has gone above and beyond.”
Sam blushed. “I’m just the idea man, boss.”
“Hey, Sam, do you have any more volunteer T-shirts? Nolan’s stylist, Q, and his husband, Elton, are here.” Gabi froze when she saw my parents. “Oh. Sorry to interrupt.”
“No, dear, it’s fine.” My mother’s too-shrewd gaze winged between us. “I didn’t realize Coach Welk was helping you out with this, Nolan.” Her head tilt indicated she’d found it intriguing that Gabi knew the name of my stylist and his husband.
I wasn’t getting anything past Mom.
“If you’re here, who’s running the rink?” my dad asked Gabi.
She laughed. “I think you know Jax is cracking the whip on all my classes today, so feel sorry for the kids. They will be thrilled to have me back Monday.”
“Maybe we oughta swing by there, Eeds.”
Eeds. Dad shortened everyone’s name. An annoying habit he’d passed on to my brother. My mom swears I believed my name was Nol until I started kindergarten.
“Before you go . . .” I ripped off four meal tickets for the food trucks. “I’ve heard the bratwurst is good. So’s the Purple Rain ice cream. Help yourselves.”
“Thanks. You’ve done good work here, son.” Dad snatched the tickets. “See you Monday.” He wrapped his arm around my mom’s shoulders and steered her away. When he leaned in to whisper in her ear, she threw her head back and laughed.
“My god. Those two are the cutest thing ever,” Sam said with a sigh. “Hashtag couple goals.”
“Did you seriously just hashtag my parents?”
“Darling, everyone should hashtag your parents,” Q said behind me.
I turned to face him and his husband, Elton, a Korean man who literally was a rocket scientist at U of M.
Q said, “Gabriella invited us. She said these kids needed to meet people who are happy and successful and uniquely themselves. I told her to sign us up.”
“I’m thrilled you’re here. I’m embarrassed to admit I should’ve thought of you and issued the invite myself.” I handed Q an XXL T-shirt and Elton a medium. “We’re about half-done with the event so get T-shirted up and jump right in.”
Although I didn’t get out to the food trucks, two street tacos and a bratwurst with mustard appeared at my spot at the registration table right as the event wound down. In my gut I knew Gabi had gotten it for me. Not that I’d seen her recently to thank her.
Sam was off . . . doing Sam things, leaving two seats open at my table.
Mariah plopped down next to me, and Amy sat on her lap. “So, big boss man . . . let’s talk about Gabi.”
I indicated that I was chewing.
“You like her,” Mariah said.
“We can tell,” Amy added.
“Yeah?” I glanced up. “How?”
“You went racing out of the skybox right after she got injured.”
Now I wondered how many people had noticed that. I thought I’d been circumspect.
“Oh, then you two hustled out of the skybox togethe
r, although she didn’t look happy to leave that other hockey dude sitting there with one of her students.” Amy tapped her chin. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the reason she seemed so huffy in the first place, so does the chasing-after-her thing count as a romance angle?” she asked Mariah.
“Yes, because Gabi was much calmer and happier when she returned to the skybox.”
Amy said, “Cool beans.”
“So you like her, we like you, we like the idea of you two together, so we’ve decided to give you a crash course in romancing Gabi,” Mariah announced.
I took a swig of water. “What makes you think I need that?”
“Because it’s Gabi.”
“Fair point.” I lowered my voice. “You know she’ll kill you both if she finds out you’re doing this, right?”
Amy lightly punched Mariah in the arm. “I told you.”
“So let me save your lives and say thank you, I appreciate the offer. But if I can’t figure out how to romance Gabriella on my own . . . I don’t deserve her. I’ve already screwed up more times than I care to admit to, but each time it happens, I learn something important about her.” And myself, but they didn’t care about that.
Mariah harrumphed. “This was a bust.” She lifted Amy off her lap. “Call us if you get stuck and maybe we’ll help you.”
After the food trucks pulled out, the kids started to go too.
We got a lot of questions about when we planned to do this again. While I appreciated that they had a good time, we wouldn’t make any future decisions until we’d crunched the numbers. While LCCO didn’t only do fund-raisers, an event where we footed the bill entirely wasn’t the goal either.
I gathered the volunteers around. “Thank you, everyone, for coming today. It meant a lot to the kids and it meant a lot to me too. So give yourself a round of applause.”
I waited for the whistling and commotion to fade before I spoke again.