Offside Hearts: Chapter 39

We all travel back to Denver the next morning, and a few days later, I leave practice with a pit in my stomach.

It’s Friday, and tonight is my brother’s award ceremony. I have plans to pick up Margo on the way, so I’ve got a little bit of free time before I have to shower and get dressed for something I don’t even want to go to.

But as stressed as I am about the event, I know it’s probably easier this way. I only have to see my family once or twice a year, and as long as I keep my head down and my comments to myself during those times, I usually come out unscathed. If I manage to keep the peace tonight, then I won’t have to see or talk to anyone in my family for another several months, and that in and of itself makes the whole thing worth it.

Still, as I straighten my tie later that evening, standing in front of the mirror in my black, tailored suit, I can feel frustration and worry boiling up inside me.

I’m glad Margo is coming with me, but I’m also worried about having her see me interact with the rest of the Blakes. They make me so mad sometimes that I don’t act like myself. That’s another reason I tend to keep my distance when possible. I don’t like who I turn into when I’m around them.

But this event is a big one, and my dad has been calling me for weeks leading up to it, pleading with me to make an appearance so the whole family can be there to support Brent.

As if Brent or my parents have ever shown up to support me.

I run my hand through my hair a couple more times and end up ruining the look I was originally going for. I have to grab the gel from the bathroom and try to hurriedly fix it before heading out to pick Margo up.

When I get to her place, I take the time to go all the way up to the door to her unit instead of waiting outside in the car. I’m stalling, but I can’t help myself. I want to arrive fashionably late and leave early, so that we really only have to be present at the event for no more than an hour or two.

I only knock once on Margo’s door before she opens it.

As soon as I catch sight of her, my mouth goes dry.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

She’s wearing a backless dark blue satin dress that drapes over her body perfectly. It hugs her soft curves in a way that drives me wild, but is still classy and elegant. It shows the perfect amount of skin and is clearly expensive and well-made.

And all I want to do is rip it apart at the seams and tear it from her body.

Without saying anything, I swoop down on her, capturing her face in my hands and kissing her as I step inside. Her body melts against mine, and I kick the door shut behind me. Backing her up to the nearest wall, I press her up against it, my hands roving possessively over her. She moans as I bite her lip and then soothe it with my tongue.

“Let’s just skip this whole thing and stay here instead,” I murmur, kissing my way down her neck and sliding my fingers beneath the straps of her dress. “Neither of us really wants to go anyway.”

“We can’t,” she whimpers, tilting her head to give me more access to the smooth skin of her neck even as she speaks.

She lets me suck gently on her throat just above the chain of her locket for a second, then puts her hands on my chest, opening up a little space between us.

“You are really fucking tempting, Noah Blake. But I think you’d regret it if we don’t go, and I really do want to meet your family. I promise we can pick this up as soon as we get back.” She reaches down to wrap her hand around my cock, giving a gentle squeeze that makes me groan. “But we have to go, or we’re going to be late. The last thing I want is to show up after the event starts and make a bad impression on your family right out the gate.”

I sigh and take a step back, immediately missing the sensation of having her body right up against mine.

“Fine,” I groan. “We can go. But only because the world deserves to see you in that dress.”

My cock calls me a fucking idiot as I reach out use my thumb to wipe some of the lipstick that smudged across her mouth, and as I adjust myself and try to tame my raging hard-on, Margo pulls out her phone to do a quick check of her makeup. Then we head down to my car.

As I pull onto the freeway, I notice that I’ve got a very tight grip on the wheel, and I make a conscious effort to try to calm my nerves. I don’t want Margo to know how stressed I am, but apparently, I’m not doing a very good job of hiding it, because when we pull up to the grand hotel where the event is being held, she reaches over and puts her hand on my leg.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s going to be fine, okay?”

“Yeah, I know.” I nod, feigning confidence. “I’m good.”

She raises a brow, and I realize that we know each other too well by now for me to fool her. I laugh and shake my head.

“Okay, you caught me. I’m not good, but it’s fine. Once we get inside and I get a drink in my hand, I’ll feel a lot better.”

That’s a lie too, but thankfully, Margo doesn’t call me on it. She just smiles encouragingly and presses a kiss to my cheek before we get out of the car. I give my keys to the valet standing outside the hotel lobby and then hold my arm out for her to take. We walk inside together, and she sucks in a breath as she takes in the massive, opulent lobby.

This hotel is arguably the nicest one in Denver, and the lobby has been done up in sparkling gold and silver drapery. Everyone dressed like us is being shuffled into the ballroom down the hall, so we follow the crowd in that direction.

There are two hotel staff members standing in front of a set of double doors, opening and closing them as the guests arrive. When they open the doors for me and Margo, she squeezes my arm as she gazes around at the immaculate decorations. There are tables set up around the room, with a bar at one end and a stage at the other.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Do I even want to know what an event like this costs to put on?”

“Probably not,” I tell her. She starts to wander deeper into the room, and I quickly grab her arm and pull her close. “Wait, don’t leave me alone with these people,” I whisper. “They’re vultures.”

“Sorry.” She loops her arm through mine again, leaning into me. “I just saw that they have a live string orchestra over there. Holy shit, look at that!”

She points to the stage area. Later on in the night, that’s where the awards will be given out and speeches will be made, but right now, it’s being used by a group of aerialists who were apparently hired to keep people entertained during the cocktail hour preceding the official event.

“That woman has her legs wrapped around her own neck while hanging upside down. I didn’t know that was physically possible.”

Margo sounds both impressed and horrified, and I chuckle at the expression on her face. I tend to agree with her, though. There’s bendy and then there’s too bendy.

“Last time I was at an event like this,” I say as we get in line for the bar, “they had one of those living art exhibits, where people dress up like subjects of famous paintings and have to hold super still. It was wild, although also weirdly eerie. It kinda had that uncanny valley effect, you know?”

We spend the next several minutes people-watching as the line for the bar moves at a glacial pace. I’m about to point out a particularly overdressed couple when I spot my parents across the room. I sigh and nod in their direction.

“My family is over there. Do you want to wait in line, or should we go say hi and come back to get drinks later?”

Margo follows my gaze, humming under her breath as she considers. “Let’s go now. I know you’ve been dreading it, so we might as well rip the band-aid off, right?”

“Good call,” I agree, then grimace and add, “even if I would prefer to have a drink in my hand for this little family reunion.”

She releases my arm and turns to face me, taking a second to smooth out my lapels and fix my tie. “You’ve got this. How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” I answer honestly. “Like always.”

She smiles a bit nervously and slides her hand in mine, her delicate fingers lacing with my own. “Then lead the way.”

We make our way over, and as we approach my family’s table, my mother notices us first. She rises and comes around to press her cheek against mine. She doesn’t actually do real kisses—not when she’s wearing makeup, at least.

“Hello, Mom.” I greet her with a somewhat forced smile. “This is my girlfriend, Margo. Margo, this is my mother, Sonia.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Blake,” Margo says, holding her hand out.

My mother is wearing satin gloves, and instead of giving Margo a real handshake, she simply holds out her white-clothed fingers for Margo to take, as if she’s a queen who’s waiting for someone to kiss her ring. “It’s lovely to meet you too, dear.”

She tugs her hand back a little faster than I would’ve thought polite, but maybe I’m just making that up in my head. I have a tendency to see the worst in my family no matter what they’re doing.

“And this is my dad,” I tell Margo as he comes over to greet us. He’s wearing a stiff gray suit and his usual wire-framed glasses. He looks the same as the last time I saw him, only with a bit more gray hair around his temples and a deeper forehead crease.

“Hello,” he intones in his booming voice. “How kind of you to join us tonight.”

“I’m honored to be here.” Margo nods politely and then glances at Brent, who’s just walked up with his wife, Gwen. “You must be Noah’s brother. Congratulations on the award.”

“Thank you.” Brent smiles his award-winning smile, then jovially claps me on the back. “I’m glad the whole family was able to make it.”

“I made sure of it,” Dad says, nodding firmly. “This is a very important night, and it would’ve felt wrong to not have everyone here. It’s not every day that you win an award as prestigious as this, and it’s important that we show up to support you as a family.”

There’s a snarky comment on the tip of my tongue—something about how not a single one of my family members has ever been to an Aces game—but I manage to keep it to myself.

We make small talk with my family for a few minutes, and I can tell Margo is a bit nervous, although she hides it well. The line for the bar seems to be dying out, and I figure she might feel more comfortable with a drink in her hand, so I give her shoulder a squeeze and murmur, “I can go snag us some drinks. Manhattan?”

“Yes, please.” She gives me a grateful look.

I excuse myself and head over to the bar, rolling my eyes when several people seem to have the same idea I do and beat me to it. Guess I’ll have to wait in line for a bit after all.

That wouldn’t be so bad, except as I step into the line behind two older women, my father sidles up beside me.

“I thought I’d get your mother a drink as well,” he informs me.

I nod, glancing back toward my family’s table to make sure Margo is doing okay. My dad follows my gaze, watching as Margo sits down at the table next to Gwen.

“Your girlfriend is quite pretty,” he comments.

“Thank you,” I say stiffly. “I think so too.”

“Is she from Denver originally?”

“She grew up in Boulder.”

“Ah,” he says, snapping his fingers. “I knew it. She’s got that small town charm about her, doesn’t she? It’s an understated kind of beauty.”

“I guess.” I shake my head, fighting the urge to snap at him for being so condescending. “Boulder isn’t that small of a town.”

“Is she a hockey fan?” he asks, either not noticing or not bothered by the coolness in my tone.

“Uh… yeah.” I think of her at our games, screaming her support and wearing my name on her back. “I mean, she wasn’t before she started working for the Aces, but now she’s really gotten into the game. She’s one of our biggest fans. Why?”

He makes a clicking noise against his teeth. “Ah, so you met at work. I see.”

The line moves forward, and for a few moments, my dad grows quiet. I silently pray that this will be the end of our conversation, but then he starts up again, glancing over at Margo.

“What does she do exactly?”

“She’s our social media manager,” I answer curtly. “She’s in charge of making the team look good online, which is actually a lot harder than you may think. The Aces are great when we’re on the ice, but we can’t seem to take a decent team picture to save our lives. Not to mention, none of us have any idea how to market ourselves, or the team in general.”

“So she’s in marketing. That’s very lucrative. What are her plans for the future?”

“Dad, I don’t know.” The words come out more sharp than I mean for them to, but I’m having a hard time figuring out where the hell he’s going with all of this, and it’s starting to piss me off. “I didn’t ask Margo what her five-year plan was when we went on our first date.”

“There’s no need to go biting my head off, son,” my dad grouses. “I was only trying to get to know the girl better.”

“Then why are you standing here talking to me instead of having a conversation with her?”

He fixes me with a stern look. “Well, because I also want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“What I’m getting into?”

I can feel frustration building in my chest like steam in a pressure cooker, and the back of my neck is starting to get hot the same way it does when someone pisses me off on the ice. When the bartender nods to us in greeting, I step forward and order two Manhattans, hoping my dad will drop whatever bullshit he’s spouting.

But this is Evan Blake we’re talking about.

Of course won’t fucking drop it.

He comes over just as the bartender hands me my cocktails and continues right where we left off.

“I just want to make sure you’re being careful, Noah, that’s all,” he says in a low voice. “I’m sure Margo is a kind, honest girl, but… it doesn’t sound like she comes from the same breed of people as us.”

“The same breed of people?” I scoff, gripping our drinks so tightly that I almost worry that I’ll shatter the glass. “Dad, do you even hear yourself?”

“She could be after your money, Noah,” he says emphatically. “She could be after our family’s money, and I just want to ensure that you’re being cautious about who you allow in your circle, that’s all.”

“I am very cautious about who I let into my circle,” I hiss, leaning in close and dropping my voice. “That’s why you and mom are no longer in it.”

His expression hardens. “There’s no need to be disrespectful.”

“Are you fucking kidding? You just called my girlfriend a fucking gold digger even though you’ve only talked to her for five goddamn seconds. You don’t know anything about her. What could she possibly have said or done in that small amount of time that convinced you she’s only dating me for my money?”

“It’s nothing she did or said,” my dad explains, as if he’s speaking to a child. “It’s just that… well, you know what sort of reputation you have.”

My hackles go up immediately, and my voice is tight as I demand, “What does that have to do with anything?”

He sighs, as if he’s not enjoying this, even though I think deep down, he sort of is.

“You’re not the kind of man who has girlfriends,” he says . “Or who brings a date to this sort of family function. I’m sure Margo knows all about your reputation as well, so if she really is a nice, small-town girl looking for a real commitment, why would she look for that in a man like you?”

Blood rushes in my ears as fury tightens my chest.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him, my voice shaking. “Margo is the best person I’ve ever met, and that’s why it’s so ironic that you of all people are telling me to watch out for her. Because you, Dad, are the worst person I’ve ever met. You always have been, and I’m starting to think you always will be. So get out of my face, and if I ever hear you say one more disparaging thing about my girlfriend, you’ll fucking regret it.”

With that, I turn on my heel and stalk off through the crowd.