“To Hot Hockey Guy! And Hot Hitchhiker! He got the Cup, he got the girl, and he got the contract, baby!”
I toss back the shot of tequila like I’m a pro.
At this point, I just might be.
I’ve had quite a few drinks within the last hour, but it’s fine. I’m fine. I have a good buzz going and I’m feeling amazing. Much better than I have in a long time.
I’m not thinking about my ex who is expecting a baby with someone else. And I certainly am not thinking about how the cost of my grandmother’s assisted living facility went up and I have no idea how I’m going to pay for it now. How the salon I worked at let me go last week because they had to downsize. How I haven’t told my best friend I’m really only one bad day away from being totally broke and sleeping on her couch.
Nope. Not thinking about any of that.
I’m just having fun in Vegas on a trip I’m not paying for and not worrying about any of it.
I glance over at my best friend, Harper, and her ridiculously hot NHL player boyfriend, Collin, and frown.
I’m happy for Harper. Totally one hundred percent happy. Not at all jealous of the way her boyfriend looks at her. Just because I’m the one who is the hopeless romantic and believes in soulmates and Harper never has doesn’t mean I should have been the one to find true love first.
Nope. Not jealous.
Their heads are bent close together and they’re whispering. I just know it’s about me.
Poor, poor, single-as-a-Pringle Ryan.
All lonely and drunk in Vegas.
So sad.
I’m certain that’s what they’re saying because I can read their lips and that’s exactly what it looks like.
Somebody tugs on my hand, and I look over.
It’s Rhodes.
Ugh, Rhodes. Mr. Grumpbutt.
He’s always frowning and never having a good time. Not even now when we’re in Vegas celebrating all kinds of exciting things like how his best friend won a Stanley freakin’ Cup. Okay, fine—I guess he won it too because they both play for the Carolina Comets, but who cares! We’re celebrating Collin, not Mr. Grumpbutt.
Rhodes tugs my hand again, and I look down at him.
He motions for me to get off the table I’m currently standing on. I shake my head because he’s not the boss of me. If possible, his always frowning mouth pulls down even farther. He grabs my hand again.
I bend down so I’m at eye level and poke him right in the nose.
“No, thank you!”
Collin laughs, pulling my attention, and says something else to Harper.
Their mouths move again, and I squint, trying to see what they’re saying now, but I can’t because I’m upside down.
I’m upside down because I’ve been captured by a beast who won’t let anyone else have a good time.
“Hey! You cranky hot giant! Put me down!”
He ignores me.
“Harper! Help!” I yell to my best friend.
Harper just shakes her head. “No! Go lie down—you’re drunk!”
I gasp. “I am not!”
I’m not drunk, just buzzed. How dare she!
“Are too!”
“You traitor!” And she is. She’s the biggest traitor ever. Who lets their friend get stolen away like this? I swat at the giant carrying me out of the club and away from my new best friend, alcohol.
“I thought you loved me!” I yell to my old best friend.
“I do!” the traitor yells back. “It’s for your own good.”
My own good? Is she nuts?! She’s sending me off with a beast!
“He’s going to kidnap me and hold me hostage in his castle!”
I swear I hear Rhodes mutter, “You wish.”
I swat at him again for that comment, and he ignores my fighting once more.
When it’s clear there’s no use fighting him and Harper is not going to rescue me, I shake my fist at her and give in to my kidnapper as he carries me toward the door.
He doesn’t stop moving until we’re outside on the strip. He pulls me down his shoulder and sets my feet on the ground.
“Watch it, Mr. Handsy!” I say when his hands slide over my hips.
He rolls his eyes, grabs my hand again, and begins dragging me down the sidewalk.
I try to tug out of his grasp, but it’s no use. He’s too strong. Too strong and too muscly and oh wow…his back looks really hot in that shirt. It’s all tight and maybe a size too small with the way it’s stretching across him.
Rhodes keeps towing me along, and I keep letting him. But only because my feet are tired. Why did I wear stilettos again?
I crash into him when the big lug makes a sudden stop.
“Hey!” I brush my hair out of my face just in time to see him steer us into an old, fifties-style diner. “What are we—oh! French fries!” I reach for one and Rhodes smacks my hand away. “Ow!”
“Sorry,” I hear him say.
“You most certainly are not forgiven.”
“I wasn’t apologizing to you. I was apologizing to the guy you just tried to steal food from. Come on.”
More tugging and pulling.
Then pushing as he slides me into a booth. He leaves me sitting and walks up to the counter. He leans in close, talking to a server. I should make a run for it. He’d never catch me. There’s no way.
But I’m too tired to move.
I slump onto the table, resting my chin in my palm, closing my eyes for just a moment.
I startle when Rhodes slides his big body into the booth across from me.
He’s staring right at me, and I hate it because I like it.
I don’t want to like it.
I look around, anywhere but at him.
“Ew. This place is hideous,” I say. It’s true. It’s so ugly. Pastel blues and pinks cover the walls, and the décor is dated, and I hate it all. “Why are we here?”
“You need food.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “I’m not hungry.”
I’m not. I just want to go back to the club and dance and have fun and forget all about how sad and lonely I am.
Rhodes either didn’t hear me, or he doesn’t care. I wave my hand in his face, trying to get his attention.
“Hello, Mr. Grumpbutt, did you hear me? I. Am. Not. Hungry.” I enunciate every syllable extra clearly just in case.
“You’re eating. You need to soak up some of the alcohol before I take you back to your room.”
I rear my head back. “Um, I am not taking you back to my hotel room. We aren’t having the sex.”
“I didn’t suggest having the sex,” he mocks, lips twitching, “but it’s nice to see where your mind goes. I said I’m taking you back to your room. For sleeping.”
A pretty waitress sets down a plate of French fries and a giant, juicy burger.
“Eat,” Rhodes instructs. “The last thing I need you to do is choke on your own puke.”
I wrinkle my nose at his words but do as he says because the food does look really good.
I bite into a fry and moan. “Oh god. This is soooo good.”
That stupid wrinkle that’s always between his eyebrows deepens. “It’s a fry. Stop moaning like you’re having an orgasm.”
“How do you know that’s my orgasm sound?”
He ignores me and steals a fry from the basket. I let him, but only because I’m too busy shoving another one in my own mouth.
Before I know it, I’ve eaten half the basket and gulped a whole glass of water, which is saying something because I hate water.
I’m starting to feel much better, and the ugly diner isn’t spinning nearly as much.
My phone buzzes in my purse and I pull it out.
It’s my ex-best friend.
Harper: Don’t be mad at me for sending you off with Rhodes.
Me: I’m mad. So, so mad.
Harper: Liar. Are you okay? Send me a pic so I know you’re alive.
I snap a selfie and send it as proof of life. She sends me one back of her and Collin, and it makes me sad all over again.
“You okay?” Rhodes asks when he notices I’m frowning.
“No.”
“No? Are you going to puke?” He looks alarmed.
I throw a fry at him. “No. I can hold my liquor just fine, thank you.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m… Have you ever been in love?”
He’s taken aback by my question. “What?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
He scoffs and shrugs. “I guess you can call it that.”
“Aww. You sound sad. Is that why you’re grumpy all the time? Because you’re sad because you got your heart broken?”
A scowl. “Sure.”
“But she did break your heart, right?”
“She…dumped me, yes.”
“Dumped you? But you’re you. Hotshot NHL superstar. You’re…” I gasp. “Oh no. You’re bad in the sack, aren’t you?”
His eyes narrow. “Shut up and eat your food, Ryan.”
“I’m full.”
“Too bad. Eat more.”
I pick up a fry and nibble at it just to satisfy him. “What’s her name?”
“Who?”
“The girl you couldn’t make come.”
“That’s not…” He sighs, shaking his head as he settles back into the booth. “Brittney.”
“Spears?”
I don’t know why I said that. Of course it’s not her.
“Kline.”
I grab my phone, tap on Instagram, and type in her name. A few profiles pop up, but I know who it is the minute I see her.
I shove my phone in his face anyway just to be sure. “This is her?”
He glances at the screen for just a second and then away again like it’s painful to look at her. He nods once.
She’s gorgeous. Like supermodel gorgeous.
“She’s really pretty. How long were you together?”
“A few years off and on. We’ve been more off recently though. But we’ll be fine. We always are.”
I listen to him as I keep scrolling through her photos. She posts a lot. Like three times a day.
But it’s the post from two nights ago that really captures my attention.
“Is that why you’ve been so sad this weekend? Because she’s engaged to someone else?”
His head whips my way. “What?”
He looks…sad. And mad.
He looks smad.
“Engaged.”
“No.”
“Yes. See.”
I show him my phone and he snatches it out of my hand, looking at the image more closely. I might still be buzzed, but the emotions that run over his face are clear as day.
Anger.
Hurt.
Sadness.
Heartbreak.
“You didn’t know?” I ask quietly.
He shakes his head, not taking his eyes off the photo. “No. I… Like I said…I thought we’d be fine. We’re always…fine.” He stares and stares, almost like he’s willing whatever it is he’s seeing to be something else.
But it doesn’t change. She’s engaged to someone else, and he’s hurting.
And now I feel bad because he feels bad.
“Rhodes, are you—”
“This is my teammate.”
“What?”
“The guy. In the photo—he’s my teammate. Well, he was my teammate. I…I won a fucking Cup with this dude.”
“Oh.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to comfort him. I don’t even know if he needs comforting because I don’t really know him.
“Drink.”
“What?”
He shoves my phone back to me. “Drink. I need a drink. A distraction. Dancing. Fun. Anything.”
His words surprise me. I haven’t seen him drink more than one beer since we’ve been in Vegas, and he certainly hasn’t been dancing. But right now, he looks like he could use more than one beer and the distraction.
“Please.”
He’s looking at me with a desperation I’m not sure I can ignore.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I’ve just started to sober up and there is nothing good that comes from drinking to forget.
But that hopeless, heartbroken look in his eyes reminds me of the same hopeless, heartbroken look in my eyes.
We’re kindred spirits. We need this. We need to let loose and forget our troubles. Forget the people who make us feel this way.
We deserve it.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Okay.”
Rhodes rises from the booth and holds his hand out to me.
I slide my palm against his, letting him pull me up.
“Lead the way,” I tell him.
And he does.
