Page 18 of Riding the High

Mabel eats while I clean and we talk about her weekend. I make sure we both have everything ready to go and check the clock.

It’s Sin City time.

CHAPTER SIX

Cole

Nash doesn’t flash his money around, ever. Dude wears fucking Levi’s jeans every damn day. If you didn’t know he was an NHL player for nine years, you’d never know he was a multimillionaire.

Walking out to the runway ready to board the private Gulfstream G450 he’s chartered for our four-hour flight to Vegas, it feels like we’re all multimillionaires.

“This how the other half lives, brother?” I ask him and CeCe as they stand in front of the plane’s stairs.

“Something like that,” Nash replies as we do the brotherly clasp of hands mixed with a half-hug. “Only for one weekend,” he adds. I can tell he’s feeling sheepish about openly spending this much money.

Inside the plane is luxury wood and ivory-colored leather. It fits fourteen even though only ten of us are flying tonight. Already seated are Wade and Ivy, my sister’s other best friend Olivia Sutton, and two of Nash’s hockey buddies. Newly retired Stars center Cory Kane and his wife, Anna, talk with another former teammate of Nash’s, Chris Bell, who now plays for the New York Rangers. I’ve met them both a few times, so shaketheir hands easily when I get to an empty seat near them and drop my bag.

“Banner year for you,” I say to Chris as I sit. He scored fifty-eight goals in the regular season. He’s a grizzly fucker, always fighting dirty. The fans love him.

“Thanks, man. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to get us past the first round.” Chris’s voice trails off and his jaw falls slack as I lose his eye contact.

“Holy hell, no ring. Dibs,” he says, looking over my shoulder. I start to turn to take in the view, but I already know who he’s looking at before I see her. Because I hear her, and Ismellher. Ginger always smells like she’s just walked in from the ocean on a Caribbean island. Some mix of coconut, vanilla and citrus.

“Damn.” She pats Nash on the shoulder. “Letting us live in style this weekend, Nashby?”

“God I’m going to regret this,” Nash says, scrubbing his face and eyeing CeCe, who ignores him and makes her way to Ginger for a hug. Ginger releases CeCe and checks out the rest of the plane. I watch her through Chris’s eyes and her beauty crashes right over me like a fucking tsunami. Her normally curly hair is styled in long layered waves that make her seem … almost freshly fucked. With those almond-shaped, light brown eyes against her dewy tanned skin, she just looks unreal. I turn away, stopping myself from staring. I won’t fall into that old pattern, not when I’ve spent years keeping myself in check.

“Well? Who’s ready to tear this town up?” she calls out, causing the girls to hoot and holler.

She struts over to the minibar and bends down to grab a bottle of open champagne. Fuck me. She’s wearing royal blue yoga tights, Nikes and a white tank top. It’s a simple outfit, but fuck, those tights would take any man out at the knees. They hug every single curve her body offers, and put her heart-shaped ass on display. Ginger is hard not to stare at on a regular day butinthosetights. Goddamn. I swallow and turn my eyes back to Chris. He’s fucking eating her up.

“I can’t believe we haven’t met yet. I’m Chris Bell, Nash’s friend.” Chris addresses Ginger, moving toward her and extending a hand to her for shaking. She turns mid-sip to look up at him with a dazzling crimson-painted smile. He’s instantly a goner. Yeah, that’s gonna stop. I don’t like Chris Bell looking at her like that.

“Ginger,” she says, shaking his hand. He smiles wide.

Uh-uh. Nope. No way.

“When you’re settled, come take a seat so we can get acquainted,” he says it like he’s sure she’s all his.

I stand and move into Ginger’s sightline, pulling her eyes from Chris to me.

“She won’t sit this entire flight,” I interject, breaking their back-and-forth. “She’ll be treating this jet like a disco the whole way to Vegas, won’t you, Vixen?”

I’m not normally one to stop her from hooking up with anyone, but she’s been on the plane two minutes.Dibs?Who the fuck says that about a woman?

Ginger winks. “Why would I sit, Cole? If this plane is destined to go down, I’m going down dancing, not sitting like a square firmly buckled into my seat.”

I look into her eyes and catch the fear there.That’s right. I know she’ll be dancing, or at the very least fidgeting, the whole way to Vegas. Ginger hates heights, after a bad experience coming home from spring break one year in college. Her plane had some really rough turbulence and she vowed in the moment to never fly again. It took her a couple years, but she eventually got back on a plane.

You’d never know she’s nervous because, when she sits as we take off, she’s the picture of cool as she talks to Chris. I flex my fists involuntarily as I watch them.

“Well, if you’re up for a road trip, next time we play Nashville I can get you tickets,” he says to her.

Just say no.

“Maybe. Thanks for the offer. I’m going to catch up with my friends now though.” She nods as the unbuckle-your-seatbelt sign flashes, and heads to sit with Liv and CeCe.

“Don’t stay away too long,” he calls after her with a cocky grin I hate.

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