I STOOD WATCHING the bartender set up his bar in the corner of the living room. In the kitchen, a chef worked on preparing food for the night, while servers unpacked and polished glasses.
I used to fill an entire house with party guests with one text. Now, I wondered if there would be four of us, outnumbered by the staff. I regretted making this party so official. I should have tried for a more organic party. That way it wouldn’t look like I was trying so hard.
The door buzzed, and a guy appeared at the door with a two-tiered birthday cake. I cracked open a beer and watched as he helped the servers set it up on the table. Pink and purple delicate butterflies and an edible bow decorated the cake. On the front, in plated chocolate, was Zoey’s name.
She was my reason. Zoey, who had never had her birthday celebrated, deserved to have the red carpet rolled out for her.
I mentally shrugged. Who gave a fuck if no one showed up? No matter what happened, I’d make tonight special for her.
I WAS GETTING DRESSED, after my shower, and I could hear Zoey speaking in disbelief.
“This cake is for me?”
“It has your name on it, doesn’t it?”
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
I strolled out into the kitchen. Krista sat on the stool with a glass of wine. I looked around.
“Where’s Zoey?”
She motioned towards the table where a blonde chick bent over the table to take a photo of the cake. I took a moment to admire the way the fabric of the chick’s skirt hugged her tight buttocks.
My cock twitched, so I forced myself to pull my eyes away from that delectable butt.
“Where?” I glanced around the room.
The chick turned around. My brain didn’t compute what it was seeing.
It was Zoey.
But it wasn’t Zoey.
Blonde hair cut short. Artful make-up. Loose flowing blouse, a tight skirt, and thigh-high boots.
Her eyes looked huge and her mouth lush and pink. I could see the soft rise of her breasts beneath the silky fabric of her blouse. Her messy pixie cut accented her high cheekbones and delicate nose.
I instantly got hard. Uncomfortably so.
“Oh, hey,” I managed to speak.
The tentative smile on Zoey’s face slowly slid off. Then without saying a word, she rushed past me to her bedroom.
“You fuckwit,” Krista hissed.
I felt dazed as I blinked at her. “What happened to Zoey?”
“She got a make-over, that’s what happened. And you made her feel like crap.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about punk rocker Zoey turning into a sex goddess even if my throbbing dick knew exactly how he felt. I held eye contact with Krista hoping she didn’t notice the epic boner between my legs.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“No, you stood there staring at her like she sprouted two heads.”
“She caught me off guard.”
“Fix this,” she commanded.
I TAPPED on Zoey’s bedroom door.
“Zoey?”
No answer.
I knocked harder. “Can I come in?”
“Do what you want.”
I creaked open the door. Zoey stood in front of her closet, in the process of pulling out some clothes.
“Hey.” I shut the door behind me.
She stilled, her head bent down.
“What are you doing?”
“I feel stupid.”
“I’m the one who feels stupid.”
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Why do you feel stupid?”
“You caught me off guard. When you turned around, I was…”
“You were what?”
Here it was. The truth. “I was trying to hide how much you affected me.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“You don’t believe me?”
She rolled her eyes. “You just say shit because you feel sorry for me.”
I walked towards her and grabbed her small wrist. She didn’t flinch. She merely lifted her face up to mine in question.
I pressed her palm to my pulsing cock. Her pretty eyes widened, and they dropped to my jeans.
My lip curled when her fingers curved around the bulge and lightly squeezed. Fuck that felt good.
“You’re turned on,” she stated, her voice full of wonder.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Is this because of how I look tonight?”
“Yes. No.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve been attracted to you for a while.”
Those electric blue eyes met mine in disbelief. “For how long?”
I stepped back from her hand that still squeezed me tight. “It doesn’t matter.”
“How could that be? I was all punk rock and scary.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I wanted to laugh at her self-description. Scary was the last adjective I’d use to describe Zoey. Sweet. Soft. Adorable. Sexy as hell. Uninhibited. Innocent yet street smart. “We made a deal when you moved in. No funny business.”
She looked flabbergasted. “That’s why?”
I worked to shift the conversation. “So, do you like your cake?”
Her eyes moved to the door. “Is all that for me?”
“I wanted you to have a birthday party.”
“Who’s coming?”
“Maybe just Mica. But maybe more people.”
“You did all that for me?”
“Technically Krista did it but only because I suck at this kind of thing.”
She stood there for a long moment, thinking. I waited with bated breath, trying to understand how her mind worked.
She lifted her face to mine. “Do you like IKEA?”
“I love IKEA.”
“Because I do? Is that the only reason?”
This felt like a trick question. “Who doesn’t love IKEA?”
She nodded in satisfaction. “Right?”
“Our place looks amazing. All because of you.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“Zoe, if I went into IKEA with a million bucks, I couldn’t figure out how to make this place look this good.”
Her smile had me wanting to reach out and tug her towards me. “I like decorating stuff.”
I shoved my hands in my pocket, willing myself not to touch her. “I hope you like the party.”
“I love it.”
“It hasn’t even started yet.”
She touched my arm. “It’s already the best party I’ve ever had.”
I needed to leave her room before I did something stupid like kiss her. “One of many, I hope.” I turned to go, but I stopped and looked back at her. “Don’t change your clothes. You look great.”
Her gaze was steady. “You make it hard to leave.”
“You’re a long way from leaving,” I frowned.
Those blue eyes met mine. “Thanks, Ryan.”
Disconcerted, I left her bedroom.
TWO HOURS LATER, I could barely hear myself think. Every single guy on the team showed up and most brought their plus ones. And all of them came bearing gifts for Zoey. Thoughtful gifts, way more thoughtful than I thought possible. Every gift she unwrapped, she did so with intention and care. Talking to the gift giver. Exclaiming with delight. Thanking each and every person.
When it was time to cut the cake, the entire room took pictures of Zoey beside her cake and then the sparklers were lit. Mica and I made eye contact as she stood there, stock still, watching those sparklers burn down, while the entire room sang happy birthday to her.
Her eyes shone bright, and she hugged Krista when the song ended.
Mica moved beside me when they started to cut the cake.
“You did good.”
“Thanks. I had help.”
“I noticed you took my advice with the sparklers.”
“It was good advice.”
“Jensen is in there like a dirty coat.”
I eyeballed the table where Jensen stood helping Zoey distribute the cake. She smiled up at him in a way that gutted me. That whole thing made my stomach tight.
I spoke to a waiter who walked by. “Can you grab me a scotch, neat?”
I looked at Mica who nodded.
I took a deep breath, “So how did you get everyone to come over?”
“I’m good at PR.”
“That you are.”
He slapped my back. “No one on the team wants to fight. Not with you or with anyone else. They all know you’re valuable on the ice.”
My smile felt tight. “I don’t want to fight. I want to play hockey.”
I couldn’t keep my eyes off Zoey. She stood beside the GM’s daughter, Rory Ashford, and chatted with her like they were old friends. Jensen stepped up and said something that made them both burst out laughing.
Mica drained his glass. “Come on. Now let’s make you some friends.”
THE PARTY FELT like a fucking job interview. Mica and I worked our way around the room where I did my best to connect one-on-one with every member of the team. I smiled until my face hurt, laughed at everyone’s jokes and found something to connect me with every single player and his plus one.
It was exhausting. Mica never left my side, going down in history as the best wingman possible. He seemed to have a relationship with everyone and they all respected and liked him. By proxy, because of him, they were giving me a chance.
I knew this was my big moment to try to gel with the team, but fuck if Zoey wasn’t distracting me.
When I got a glimpse of her, she was often laughing and talking to various people, all the time with Jensen glued to her side like fuzz on velcro. Why did she have to look so damn cute with her blonde hair and her short skirt?
Krista stood in the middle of the living room and clapped her hands. Someone had pushed the furniture to the walls, and in the huge center, was 15 cushions in a circle.
Everyone fell silent.
Krista’s voice rang out clear. “So, tonight, we are going to play a party game, called musical cushions with a partner. The men travel in a circle in one direction around the cushions, and their partner travels in the opposite direction. As you already can guess, there is one more couple than there are cushions. So, you must grab your partner, land on a cushion and the couple that doesn’t get a cushion is out. The winner gets this 50-year-old bottle of scotch.”
I watched as players grabbed their girlfriends and wives and tugged them towards the cushions. I knew how competitive my teammates were. This game could get rough and there was only one way to make sure that Zoey didn’t get hurt. I made a beeline towards Zoey. A moment before Jensen turned towards her, my arm snaked around her waist, tugging her hard against me.
“Be my partner.”
Her blue eyes sparkled and the cutest giggle escaped out of her. “Okay.”
Jensen looked at me with a hard expression.
“One more thing to make this game more exciting. We will remove the last woman seated from the game, so there will always be one guy without a partner. He can grab any woman to sit on his lap and that means the partnerless guy will have to leave the game.”
The men eyeballed each other.
“Everyone ready?”
Sixteen couples lined up in a circle and the music started. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Zoey. Her face was flushed, and she was laughing. The music stopped. She screamed, and I charged over the pillows, nearly colliding with four of my teammates. I grabbed her and pulled her onto a cushion.
She leaned back against me, giggling.
“We’re safe,” I said into her ear. She shivered.
Again and again, the music started. The guys became more competitive. The game became rougher as we pushed and shoved each other with ferocity. We laughed. We grunted. Each time I grabbed Zoey and pulled her down onto my lap. Which, I won’t lie, was my favorite part. She fit in my lap perfectly, and each time I took full advantage of the situation by wrapping my arms around her and cradling her to my chest. I wanted to kick everyone out. I wanted to pull her back onto my lap and kiss her neck. I wanted to hear how the breath hitched out of her throat when my lips touched her skin.
Soon it was Zoey, myself, another couple and Jensen circling two cushions.
The music stopped. Jensen and I were both on one side of the two cushions. Zoey was on the other. I moved quicker than him, but he tackled me. I hit the floor and immediately rolled over, taking him with me.
“She’s mine,” he gritted out.
“Not a chance,” I rolled off him, trying to get to my feet. He jumped on top of me.
The fun was over. This no longer was about cushions or music. This was about something else.
I worked to free myself from him when the first punch landed on my chin. More instinct, than anything, had me swinging back. I landed my fist square on his cheek and his head snapped back.
I heard a high pitch scream but my only focus was Jensen and his killer punches. He hit my eye socket. I heard the crunch of his nose as my fist connected with it.
“Break them up,” someone yelled.
Arms hauled me to my feet, dragged me away from Jensen.
He was breathing as hard as I was. Blood trickled from his nose. Murder was in his eyes.
I felt something wet trickle down the side of my face. I wiped it with my fingers. Blood colored my fingertips. The guy’s knuckles had split the skin above my eyebrow.
My eyes searched Zoey’s. She stood there, both of her hands over her mouth, her eyes filled with tears.
Mica put his arm around me and yanked me hard through the shocked crowd. “Everyone get a drink. I’m going to clean this guy up.”
“You got a med kit?” Mica asked, from my bathroom.
“Under the sink,” I sat on my bed. I felt like complete shit. “I need to see if Zoey is okay.”
“You need to cool off,” he came out of the bathroom and tossed me a wet hand towel. I wiped the blood from my cheek while he dug through my kit.
He inspected my brow. “Don’t think you’ll need stitches. Just a couple butterfly bandages and you’ll be good as new.”
I sat still while he washed my cut with antiseptic.
“So does she know?” He asked, not looking at me.
“Does who know?”
“Does Zoey know how you feel?”
We made eye contact. “It’s not like that.”
He snorted. “I think it is.”
I winced when he pinched the cut together to apply the first bandage. “She’s a friend.”
“She is that, but she’s more than that. And Jensen, he feels the same way too.”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Maybe you should tell her.”
I watched as he closed up the kit. “It’s complicated. Zoey came to stay here. She didn’t trust anyone. And I made a promise to her that this situation was without strings. I promised her I’d never touch her.”
“Zoey isn’t the same person that she was when she arrived. When I first met her, she was wary and skittish like a scared cat. Now, she’s like a flower, opening up to the world.”
I remained silent.
He stood up. “Zoey knows what she wants and she won’t be swayed by anyone.”
“What does that mean?”
“If she doesn’t like your dumb ass, she will not let you get near her.”
I watched as he dumped the kit and the towel back in the bathroom. “Change your shirt. I’m going to go do damage control.”
I didn’t want to go back out there. “Yeah, sure.”
