Page 111 of Ice Ice Maybe
“I agree,” I said, suddenly feeling a little more relaxed.
As we drank in the view in a comfortable silence, I knew whatever happened with the Sea Lions and our future, we’d deal with it together.
My heart leaped into my throat when my phone rang, and in my haste to answer, it slipped through my fingers like a greased puck.
“Butterfingers,” Nolan teased as he scooped it up and handed it to me.
“Okay—here we go,” I said, tapping the screen. “Dad? Please tell me you have good news.”
“The lawyer says Nolan’s limited partnership idea is viable,” he said. “Wheels are already in motion to implement it. The Sea Lions are staying in San Diego.”
Elation surged through me like an electric current. I flung myself at Nolan, wrapping him in an embrace so enthusiastic it almost knocked us both over.
“We did it!” I squealed, my arms locked around him in a grip that would make an octopus envious.
Nolan’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he lifted me off my feet, spinning me in a celebratory twirl. When he set me down, our lips met in a kiss that made the world fade away.
Dad’s voice cut through our euphoria. “We need to celebrate! What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”
Still giddy, I said, “I have meetings most of the afternoon, but the morning’s light.”
“Perfect,” he said. “I already know Nolan’s off, since there’s no game. Meet us at the airport in two hours. I’m having the pilot prep the jet. We’re flying to Santa Barbara for a special evening and will stay the night there.”
“Wow!” I said. “Okay, see you soon.”
As the call ended, Nolan and I exchanged looks of excited disbelief. Who knew saving a hockey team could be so exhilarating?
Two hours later, we settled into the leather seats of Dad’s private jet. Almost immediately, the intercom came to life with Captain Jack’s familiar voice.
“Welcome aboard,” he said. “Once we’re airborne, our flying time to Santa Barbara this afternoon will be a short thirty-five minutes. Current weather there: clear skies and a delightful seventy-nine degrees. We’re currently third in line for takeoff. Please sit back, make yourselves comfortable, and enjoy the flight.”
Nolan shook his head in amusement. “This has to be the shortest flight I’ve ever taken.”
Dad nodded and said, “Two hundred miles isn’t far in a car, but with LA traffic, a normal three-hour drive can easily stretch to five. Not worth it.”
Once we were in the air, the flight attendant distributed champagne flutes, as usual.
Dad raised his glass, “To the Sea Lions!”
“Cheers!” we chorused, the crystal clinking melodiously.
Dad glanced across at Nolan. “I want to thank you again for your help, son.”
“Happy to help, sir,” he replied.
Dad’s eyes softened as he gazed at Nolan. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you still giving hockey lessons to underprivileged kids?”
Nolan nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, though I had to find someone to cover for me when we were on the road with the team. Why do you ask?”
Dad was gentle, almost paternal when he said, “Just making sure you’re still getting time on the ice. And you’re still hitting the gym regularly, correct?”
“Of course,” Nolan replied, suspicion creeping into his tone.
Dad took a sip of champagne, his eyes twinkling. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking of a way to repay you for all you’ve done for our family.”
“That’s not necessary,” Nolan said.
“I disagree,” Dad said matter of factly. “Since Mitch will miss the rest of the season with his torn achilles, and we have no chance of making the playoffs, I have been presented with a unique opportunity to do something special for you. Something you’ll no doubt remember for the rest of your life. I’ve made arrangements with Coach Quinn for you to suit up for the Sea Lions against the Dallas Stars in Texas, the last game of the season.”
