Page 61 of Ice Ice Maybe
And on that annoyingly vague note, she headed out of the kitchen, leaving us alone and stunned.
I immediately turned to Zena, my brow furrowed. “Do you have any idea what your mother was talking about? What wedding was she referring to?”
Zena shrugged, her expression as bewildered as mine. “I have no idea.”
“She sounds like she’s up to something,” I said.
“Definitely,” Zena said. “And that’s what worries me the most.”
Chapter Sixteen
Zena
We arrived at the Hilton Downtown Nashville, in the heart of Honky Tonk Highway and directly across the street from the Bridgestone Arena, where the Sea Lions would face off against the Predators tonight. Not surprisingly, Dad had arranged for Nolan and me to stay on the same floor as the players. My parents stayed put in the suite at the Hutton Hotel, free to do whatever their hearts desired without the possibility of someone walking in on them and being scarred for life.
After checking in and getting our room keys, we wheeled our suitcases toward the elevator.
Nolan winked at a little girl we passed with her parents, then playfully nudged me with his elbow. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we got the room next to Mitch again?”
I shook my head, amused. “Be careful what you wish for, mister.”
As we waited for the elevator, my mind drifted to the fun day we’d had exploring Nashville. We had hit up a handful of the popular tourist spots, from the Grand Ole Opry House to the Country Music Hall of Fame and the historic Ryman Auditorium. However, my favorite part was, without a doubt,the way Nolan always wanted to hold my hand. The thought made me smile.
Standing in front of the elevator, I leaned in close to him, wrinkling my nose dramatically. “What’s that smell? I can’t put my finger on it, but it has been following us around.”
Nolan’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “That’s my new cologne, Calvin Klein Eau de Hot Chicken.”
I chuckled, thinking back to our walk through Centennial Park. We’d passed a middle-aged couple eating chicken sandwiches near the Nashville Parthenon and asked where they’d gotten them. The man pointed across the street to Red’s Hot Chicken, and Nolan and I knew we couldn’t resist another round of spicy goodness that made our foreheads sweat and our noses run. It exceeded our expectations and was as enjoyable as Hattie B’s, but I’d been teasing Nolan about his scent ever since. Not to mention the sauce stain on his shirt.
“Well, I do declare, you smell good enough to eat,” I joked as I wiggled my eyebrows.
“And you smell like trouble,” Nolan added, leaning in close, his breath warm against my ear. “The kind of trouble I can’t wait to get into.”
A spark of electricity seemed to jump between us, leaving me feeling charged and alive from his tone and gaze. Before I could respond, the elevator arrived with a ding, and we stepped inside. As the doors were about to close, an arm shot through the opening, forcing them to open again. And there, standing before us with a grimace on his face, was none other than Mitch.
“This can’t be happening again,” he muttered, stepping into the elevator and reaching for the button to his floor. When he saw the “8” already illuminated, he froze, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Nolan smirked, clearly enjoying Mitch’s discomfort. “Oh, are we on the same floor again? What a coincidence.”
Mitch clenched his jaw and glared at him. “Shut your pie hole, pretty boy, before I shut it for you.”
“Relax, Twitchy Mitchy—don’t get your tighty-whities in a bunch,” Nolan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “How was the pregame meal?”
Mitch didn’t answer.
“Oh, come on, tell me what you ate today,” Nolan continued. “Was it the usual Gerber’s turkey and gravy? No, don’t tell me, mashed banana and avocado! Did you also get the Capri Sun fruit punch juice box with the sippy straw?” He made fish lips, pretending to sip from an imaginary straw. “Mmm, yummy for your tummy.”
I watched as Mitch’s left eye twitched, and I had to bite my lip to keep from snickering. The elevator dinged again, and Mitch practically jumped out, stopping at his door and glancing back at us as we stopped at the room next to his.
“Seriously?” he practically yelled. “Again?”
“We didn’t choose this room,” I said. “It’s a delightful happenstance.”
“No—it’s a nightmare,” Mitch said. “You’d better not mess with my pregame routine today. This game is important.”
Nolan placed a hand on his chest, looking offended. “I would never!”
Mitch scowled before disappearing into his room and slamming the door behind him.
