“Did I?” Georgeanne was flattered that he would recall the color of her dress. “I’m surprised you remember.”
Dmitri smiled and little creases appeared in the corners of his eyes. “I remember. I wear no gold chainz now.”
Georgeanne glanced at Mae, who shrugged and looked up at a grinning Hugh. “That’s right. I had to explain to Dmitri that American women don’t like to see jewelry on men.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mae disagreed. “I know of several men who look fierce in pearl chokers and matching earrings.”
Hugh pulled Mae against his side and kissed the top of her head. “I’m not talking about drag queens, honey.”
“Is this your little girl?” Mark asked Georgeanne.
“Yes, she is.”
“What happened to your eye?” Lexie handed Georgeanne her plate, then pointed her last strawberry at Mark.
“The Avalanche caught him in the corner and gave him a pounding,” John answered from behind Georgeanne. He picked Lexie up with one arm and lifted her until they were eye level. “Don’t feel bad, he probably deserved it.”
Georgeanne glanced at John. She wanted to ask him about Virgil’s parting comment to her, but she would have to wait until they were alone.
“Maybe he shouldn’t have goosed Ricci with his stick,” Hugh added.
Mark shrugged. “Ricci broke my wrist last year,” he said, and the conversation turned to which man had suffered the most injuries. At first Georgeanne was appalled by the list of broken bones, torn muscles, and number of stitches. But the longer she listened, the more she found it morbidly fascinating. She began to wonder how many men in the room had their own teeth. Not many by the sounds of things.
Lexie placed her hands on the sides of John’s head, turning his face toward her. “Did you get hurt last night, Daddy?”
“Me? No way.”
“Daddy?” Dmitri looked at Lexie. “Iz yours?”
“Yes.” John turned his gaze to his teammates. “This little worrywart is my daughter, Lexie Kowalsky.”
Georgeanne waited for him to say that he hadn’t known about Lexie until recently, but he didn’t. He didn’t offer any explanation for his daughter’s sudden appearance in his life. He just held her in his arms as if she’d always been there.
Dmitri glanced at Georgeanne, then looked back at John. He raised a questioning brow.
“Yes,” John said, leaving Georgeanne to wonder about the silent byplay between the two men.
“How old are you, Lexie?” Mark asked.
“Six. I had my birthday, and now I’m in first grade. I gots a dog now, too, ‘cause my daddy gave him to me. His name is Pongo, but he’s not very big. He doesn’t got a lot of hair either, and his ears get cold. So I made him a hat.”
“It’s purple,” Mae told John. “It looks like a dunce cap.”
“How do you get the hat on your dog?”
“She pins him down between her knees,” Georgeanne answered.
John glanced at his daughter. “You sit on Pongo?”
“Yeah, Daddy, he likes it.”
John doubted Pongo liked anything about wearing a stupid hat. He opened his mouth to suggest that maybe she shouldn’t sit on her little dog, but the band struck up a few chords, and he turned his attention to the stage. “Good evening,” the lead singer said into his microphone. “For the first song of the night, Hugh and Mae have asked that everyone join them on the dance floor.”
“Daddy,” Lexie said barely above the music. “May I have a piece of cake?”
“Is it okay with your mom?”
“Yes.”