My hope that the night would continue to go smoothly may have been unrealistic. First, my conversation with that lowlife Morrison, then Kristen ran smack into me. Literally. As I turned to leave the bar, she walked right into my chest. Given that I’d been standing there all along and I wasn’t exactly easy to miss, it was suspect.
“Kristen. Hey…” I took a step back to put some distance between us. Bailey was still at our table with her back turned to me, engrossed in a conversation with Shiv and Zoe. Where the hell was Penner?
She was making eyes at me—and I was trying hard to miss them. “How are you?” she purred.
“Good.” It was difficult, but I vowed I would make an effort to be civil. “You?”
“Great.” She took a sip of her drink, wrapping her cherry-red lips around the straw in a way that was intended to be suggestive and made me infinitely more uneasy.
“So, you and Penner, huh? Good for you guys.” Penner was a decent enough guy, which probably meant she’d eat him alive. I thought about warning him, but he probably wouldn’t listen anyway, and getting involved like that had the potential to stir up drama I didn’t need. Easier to steer clear of that tire fire in the making altogether.
Kristen glanced over to where he was standing with a group of guys from our team. Her face was impassive. “Yeah, I guess he’s all right.”
Damn, that was cold. Considering he brought her as his date tonight, I hoped she at least liked him a little.
“How are things with your girlfriend? Hailey?” Her arched brows knit together. “Kailey?”
“Bailey,” I said, for the millionth time. “They’re great.”
A frown glanced across her face, and she quickly forced a bland smile. “Oh, that’s nice.”
There was an awkward pause. It was uncomfortable even for me, and I had a lofty threshold for feeling uncomfortable. It happened about as often as I was wrong, which was basically never.
Behind Kristen, Luke stood in front of his table with Paul and the other Bulldogs. His eyes were on us, and he watched for a beat, wearing a chilling expression. Great. That’s what I need—Morrison thinking I’m chatting up other chicks in front of Bailey.
Already in motion, I pivoted around Kristen. “I should get back with these drinks. See you later.” Unfortunately.
Mental note to kill Ty for putting them at our table.
By the time I finally returned to our table, Dallas and Ty were there too. Ty had his arm slung around Zoe’s chair while she and Siobhan were locked deep in conversation.
I set down our drinks and pulled out my chair, then sank down beside Bailey. Briefly, I wondered if she would ask me about my Morrison or Kristen run-ins.
“Thanks.” Bailey grabbed her vodka seven and took a sip. “I heard about the time you took a guy out without touching him.”
“You mean Paul?” Hopefully, that idiot would give a repeat performance when we played them in a couple of days.
“No,” Shiv said. “When you played the Blizzards last season and that guy trying to fight you slipped and bailed.”
I laughed. “Oh, yeah. That was awesome.” The guy speared me and skated away without being called for it. When I made a hit on him in response—which was a perfectly reasonable thing to do—he got salty and started a fight. But before we could actually throw down, he lost his balance, fell on the ice, and gave himself a concussion. I loved when people did my dirty work for me. Avoiding the fighting penalties was great too.
Bailey gave me a wry smile, shaking her head. “I always said you were devious, even before I met you.”
“I think you mean genius.”
Bailey huffed a soft laugh. From across the table, Dallas snorted and rolled his eyes but said nothing.
“Actually, I need to run to the bathroom.” Bailey stood and pushed her chair away. “Be right back.”
With Morrison here, I was half-tempted to escort her there, but that would probably be overkill. I would watch her from afar like a totally normal, not at all overprotective boyfriend would. As she weaved her way through the room, I scanned the crowd but couldn’t locate Morrison.
While I waited for Bailey to return, I turned away to talk to Ward for a moment. “What time do you want to take off?”
“Up to Shiv.” Dallas shrugged.
Ty nodded behind me. “Uh, pretty sure Greenfield is hitting on your girlfriend.”
I craned my neck, scanning the banquet hall in the dim glow of the crystal chandeliers. Off to the side, beside an artificial tree covered with twinkle lights, I spotted endless legs, long blond hair, and that dress I wanted to tear off later. Bailey was being chatted up by Mason Greenfield, power forward for the NHL’s Boston Storm.
He was sporting dark, slicked back hair, a ridiculously flashy, expensive suit, and a gold watch so big I could almost make out the time from across the room. A walking new money cliché designed to pull chicks which, frankly, worked most of the time. It was easy enough being a professional athlete; the window dressing was just gravy.
And yes, he was definitely hitting on Bailey. He was probably fully aware that she was here as someone else’s date—he just didn’t care. Greenfield had graduated from Boyd last spring, and he made me look like a fucking saint.
“Looks that way.”
Guess I wasn’t the only one who liked the way she looked in that little black dress.
“She thinks he’s being nice, doesn’t she?” Shiv murmured, watching them.
I took a sip of my beer. “Probably.”
Bailey told me she didn’t get hit on very often. But—my obvious bias aside—Bailey was attractive. She had long legs, gorgeous hair, a killer smile, captivating eyes. She was the whole package.
Then I spent more time with her and discovered that, more often than not, she didn’t realize when guys were trying to pick her up. She thought they were being friendly.
My beautiful, sweet, oblivious girlfriend.
“You gonna rescue her?” Dallas asked.
“I’ll give it a sec to see how this plays out.”
I didn’t want to be a helicopter boyfriend who got crazy jealous at every turn, even though, inwardly, I kind of was. Whether or not Bailey knew it, she attracted a lot of male attention. I didn’t love it, but at the end of the day, I trusted her. She would never cheat, and she could generally handle herself. The only time I intervened was with her creeper ex or when she looked uncomfortable.
Greenfield leaned in a little too close for my liking and said something to her. Bailey shook her head, and what looked like the word boyfriend passed her lips, although I couldn’t hear the conversation from here. He cocked his head and responded. Knowing Greenfield, the retort was probably something classy about how his dick was bigger. She glanced away and scanned the crowd, eyes locking on to mine. We’d hit uncomfortable.
“That’s my cue.” I pushed off from the table and strolled across the room to join them.
Bailey watched me approach with relief written all over her pretty face. I probably should have stepped in sooner. Hard to gauge sometimes when I was trying not to go full caveman. If I let myself, I’d never leave her side. Or let any other guys look at her. Hence my holding back.
I nodded at him. “Nice to see you.” Jesus, man. I could smell his cologne from where I stood.
“Carter,” he said. “Long time no see.” He extended his hand, offering me a firm handshake—way firmer than necessary. Were we doing this now? Maybe we could pull out a ruler next.
“I see you’ve already met my girlfriend.” I slid an arm around the curve of Bailey’s waist, giving her a little squeeze.
Understanding dawned on his face. “I have. You’re a lucky guy.”
“The luckiest.”
His gaze darted back and forth between us like he was trying to find his way out of a dead-end street. And, for him, this absolutely was.
“Well,” he said, “I should go mingle. But it was nice meeting you, Bailey. Good to see you again, Carter.”
He didn’t mean that last part one bit.
“Same to you.” And neither did I.
With a nod, Greenfield turned and walked around us, making his way to the bar to find his next potential target. I had to admit, I was curious about whether he would succeed at pulling someone else’s date tonight. Hell, maybe he could rescue Morrison’s date.
“Thanks.” Bailey glanced up at me with a little smile. Her eyelashes looked impossibly long, framing her round hazel eyes in a way that I couldn’t tear my attention from. Sometimes, like right now, I got a little lost in her.
She shifted her weight, wincing and bringing me back to reality. “My feet are getting tired. Not used to heels. Can we sit down?”
“Sure.” With my hand on her lower back—a little lower than was probably appropriate—I guided her around the tables until we reached ours in the middle. Everyone had left, probably to dance or get drinks, leaving it vacant. I pulled out Bailey’s chair and pushed it in for her before sinking into mine beside her.
I slung my arm along the back of her chair, resting my hand on her shoulder. She leaned in closer, nestling against me, and her vanilla-spice perfume hit me like a drug, doing bad things to my self-control. That dress wasn’t helping, either. It hugged every curve in a way that made me jealous of the fabric. I wanted to hike it up and bend her over the table.
“What did Greenfield say to you?”
“Um…He asked me to leave with him.”
Yup. Pretty on-brand for Greenfield.
I nodded. “I figured.”
“Why?” She angled her head, giving me a questioning look.
“Because I saw the look on your face, and I know what he’s like.” I slid my arm off her shoulders and rested my palm on her thigh. Warmth from her skin radiated through the thin fabric, melting away the rest of my self-control.
“Don’t worry.” Her lips quirked. “It was nothing compared to the things you whisper in my ear in public all the time.”
I should fucking hope not. I’d said some pretty filthy things to her. If another guy talked to her like that, I would cut out his tongue.
“Better not be.”
Beneath the white linen tablecloth, I skimmed my hand down her leg and dipped under the hemline of her dress. Bailey drew in a soft breath as I walked my fingers up the smooth, silky skin of her inner thigh. Too bad it wasn’t my mouth. But later…
“Jealous, Carter?” Her voice turned breathy, taking my mind to even dirtier places.
“Just making sure he was somewhat respectful.”
My fingers traveled another inch, close to reaching my desired target. Bailey bit her bottom lip, crossing her legs and clamping down on my hand with her thighs so that I couldn’t move any higher. She shot me a sidelong glance, fighting a smile. I definitely had her going, and I’d gotten myself worked up in the process too. Was there a coat closet somewhere nearby, or…?
“For the record, Mr. Caveman, I’ve caught multiple girls checking you out tonight. One practically undressed you with her eyes.”
Probably Kristen. She basically eye-fucked me. Awkward. Bailey took that in stride, though. I wouldn’t have been thrilled in her shoes. Hell, I wasn’t thrilled myself.
“There are other chicks here?”
“Well played.” She smirked. “You must want to get lucky tonight.”
“Wasn’t I going to get lucky before?”
“Oh, I meant extra lucky.”
Fuck me. I would be surprised if I left this event without getting arrested for doing something indecent.
“What does extra lucky mean?” I lowered my voice, ducking to catch her gaze. Anyone who came back to our table before I found out the answer to this was going to be on the receiving end of a galvanized death stare.
Bailey’s eyes danced in the warm light. “I don’t know. What do you want it to mean?”
“Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?”
What don’t I want it to mean? That list is probably shorter.
“Tell me and we’ll see.” She inclined her head, bringing her ear closer to my mouth. God, she smelled good. Maybe we could call it a night early. Like right now.
“I picked up those Velcro cuffs we talked about the other day.”
“Hmm.” She shrugged. “Maybe if you’re nice.”
“I’m always nice, baby.”
Unfortunately for me, several hours and three drinks later, Bailey was in no condition to be tied up—or do much of anything other than pass out.
When Siobhan handed Bailey that last drink, I had a hunch it might put her over the edge. I didn’t say anything, but maybe I should have, because by the time we got out of the cab, the drink had worked its way into her system and she could barely walk a straight line. And she tripped on the sidewalk. Twice.
I steadied her with an arm around her lower back as we climbed the staircase. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, why?” Bailey stumbled as we scaled the last stair.
“Easy.” I was having some vague déjà vu from the night at XS, though the circumstances were dramatically different. Better in every way—I was with her now and also, no one was throwing up. Not yet at least.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
I steered her over to my dresser and released her once I was confident she’d regained her footing. “You will be once you sleep it off, my little lightweight.”
“Sleep it off?” She looked up, making a pouty face that was both adorable and sad. “I didn’t think we were going to sleep. You said we could…”
“I love you, but you’re minutes away from having the spins, and that won’t be a good time for either of us.”
Bailey harrumphed a little sound of annoyance, like she knew I was right but didn’t want to admit it. I kissed the top of her head and turned toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. While she got ready for bed, I went down to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water. When I returned, Bailey was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, looking pitiful.
She rolled onto her side, and the blanket shifted, revealing a sliver of my red Falcons T-shirt. “I feel gross.”
“You’ll feel better in the morning.” I set the water on the nightstand and slid into bed beside her.
“Then I’ll be hungover.”
“Drink something. It’ll help.” I picked up her a glass from my nightstand and handed it to her. She drained half of it before placing it on her side of the bed. When she settled under the blankets again, I pulled her closer, and she slipped beneath my arm, nestling against my chest.
“I ruined our night.”
“Not at all. Obviously, you’re not getting out of being tied up another time, but that can wait. Did you have fun?”
“I did…” She groaned, covering her eyes. “But why am I so drunk? I didn’t even drink very much.”
“You don’t drink very often, though.”
“Neither do you.”
Not anymore. Probably a handful of times since we’d been together. Maybe I still had some leftover tolerance.
“I’m also, like, twice your size.”
Bailey laughed. “Not even.”
“Fine. One and a half times your size.”
She snuggled closer to me, letting out a long sigh. As she fell quiet, her breaths grew slower and more even, like she’d drifted off, but a moment later, she spoke up again.
“My academic advisor is going to put in a good word for me with the scholarship committee. She has a lot of sway as the department head. Plus, I got a call about videoconference interview for that internship…” She trailed off. “I wasn’t going to tell you about either of those because I was scared of jinxing them. But if you do leave, maybe at least those things will work out.”
My chest tightened, and there was a sharp pang in my gut. She was obviously spinning in circles about this, but I didn’t know what I could do to help. It wasn’t even a surefire thing yet.
“Don’t worry about the leaving thing for now, James.”
“It’s hard not to.”
I kissed the top of her head, giving her a squeeze. “I’m here now, right?”
“I know.”
