Status update: I still hated clubs. So far, I was seriously underwhelmed by this XS joint. It was cramped and humid, and the DJ sucked. The beers were ridiculously overpriced too. Fifteen bucks for domestic? Fuck off.
Of course, I was here because we’d pulled off a shutout against the Bulldogs. That did take the edge off my current level of irritation. Seeing the look of defeat on Callingwood’s faces as they left the ice was damn near priceless. Suckers.
But the only interesting thing that had happened since we arrived was meeting that feisty blond chick from their school. That didn’t pan out, but I had other options. It was time to call it. I was too sober for this scene.
“You played amazing tonight,” the short brunette next to me said, batting her eyelashes. Her name was Morgan. Or maybe Meghan. I hadn’t caught it over the loud music, and I didn’t particularly care.
“You a big hockey fan?” I asked.
I was sure she knew next to nothing about hockey. She probably wasn’t even at the arena earlier. But my game was on point tonight, so in this case she’d guessed correctly.
She nodded. “Love it.”
“Tonight was tough, huh? Thought we were headed into extra innings,” I said. “It was close until we got that last touchdown.”
“Totally.” She made a pouty face. “I’m so glad you won.”
See? She didn’t know shit about hockey.
And people think I’m the superficial one.
Squaring her shoulders, she stuck out her chest to draw attention to her plunging lace V-neck dress and the plump cleavage it contained.“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”
She was wearing entirely too much makeup, which would probably rub off all over my sheets later. But she was cute enough, and she seemed like she’d be enthusiastic in the sack so why not?
“Uh, yeah. Hang on.” I looked over her shoulder for Dallas and Tyler but couldn’t find them in the crowd. Whatever, I was leaving with or without them.
Morgan/Meghan stroked my arm with her long, pointy red nails. “Sure.” Her hands were fucking freezing. I hoped they’d warm up before they got to my junk.
Before I could open my mouth to say anything further, a soft, warm hand landed on my other forearm.
“There you are.” The voice was sugar sweet.
I glanced to my left, discovering my failed pickup attempt from earlier. Long, honey-colored hair, a smattering of freckles along her nose, and eyes that were this crazy hazel-green that I couldn’t even begin to describe.
Callingwood.
Our eyes locked and she tilted her head. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She tucked a lock of caramel blond hair behind her ear and gave me a familiar smile, like we knew each other well. Like we hadn’t just met.
Morgan stepped aside, withdrawing her hand with a frown. “Is this your girlfriend?”
“Sure. Let’s call it that.” Callingwood smiled, shooing Morgan away like a pesky animal. She had a good six inches on Morgan, which added insult to injury.
“Seriously?” Morgan glared at me. “You’re an asshole. Good luck with this one, sweetie.” She huffed and spun on her red stiletto heel before disappearing into the crowd.
So much for having options.
“Um, hi?” I turned to Callingwood with a frown.
What the fuck? Did she come back just to cockblock me?
I wasn’t sure whether she had changed her mind or was simply hell-bent on ensuring I went home alone tonight.
Unfazed by my lukewarm reception, she gestured to her friends. “Zara and Noelle, you remember Carter. I mean, Chase. Chase, this is Zara and Noelle. I’m sure you have some cute friends to introduce them to, right?”
Right. They were like a trifecta of gorgeous girls. My friends would be all over it. Zara was curvy, with long, reddish brown hair nearly down to her waist. And Noelle was more angular. She had a short black bob and golden tanned skin. Both very attractive, objectively speaking, but Callingwood was by far the hottest.
“Sure.” I kept my attention fixed on her. “I appreciate the introduction, but I still don’t know your name.”
I was part-irritated, part-intrigued, and wholly hoping I could still close this. I liked the challenge. I was dysfunctional that way.
Zara laughed, fluffing her long auburn hair. “I don’t know why she’s being so mysterious. Her name is Bailey.”
Bailey. It didn’t ring a bell. I couldn’t put my finger on why she looked familiar, though, and it was driving me crazy.
“Do you have a last name, Bailey? Or are you a one-name wonder like Rihanna?”
Bailey looked away, taking a sip of her drink. “James.”
Like Derek James, D-man for the Bulldogs? Holy shit. That was why she said she hated me. There was no shortage of bad blood there.
“Is Derek your brother?”
“Yup,” she said, popping the P.
“Ah.” I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral.
Talk about a plot twist. Derek was a fairly average-looking dude; even a little gangly. But his sister was a fucking dime. Athletic but curvy, with enough to grab on to. Tall too—in her heels, she wasn’t much shorter than me.
I was into it. Fully.
Noelle leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Bailey is single and ready to mingle. Newly single as of yesterday, in fact.”
Bailey shushed her, cheeks reddening. “We don’t need to talk about that.”
“What?” Zara shrugged. “It’s Luke’s loss.”
Luke…Luke. Then it clicked. Bailey was Morrison’s girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend, it would seem. That was why she looked so familiar. I’d probably seen her in the stands before.
But she was cheering for the wrong side.
“He’s an idiot, right?” Noelle chimed in, nudging me.
“Definitely,” I agreed. On both parts, actually—it being his loss and his status as a total fucking idiot. Luke Morrison was the worst kind of hockey player; one who took cheap shots and refused to answer for them later.
“Hey, fucker. I thought you might have left.” Tyler strolled up, holding a drink in each hand. He had no intention of offering me one. He was just double-fisting.
“This is Bailey, Noelle, and Zara.” I gestured to each with my beer. “And this is Tyler, one of our goalies.”
“Nice to meet you.” Tyler flashed them a grin. He sidled over to Zara and Noelle, ushering them a couple of steps away and striking up a private conversation. He’d probably seen me talking to Bailey and done the math before coming over. He was a damn good wingman, but that wasn’t what I needed at the moment. I wasn’t sure what I needed, actually.
I returned my attention to Bailey, who was batting her lashes, waiting for me to speak. She was fucking gorgeous—in the way that told me she’d still be gorgeous the morning after.
Not that it mattered; I didn’t do sleepovers.
Hooking up with her after decimating their team tonight would add major insult to injury. Unless I was looking to pave the way for a full-on line brawl next time, I should run in the other direction and never look back.
But I’d never been good at doing what I was supposed to.
“Do you want to dance?” I asked.
“Let’s get a drink first.”
I glanced down at my fresh beer and her half-full drink, but I knew better than to argue. After the chilly reception I’d initially received, she’d warmed to me, and I didn’t want to ruin it.
Bailey grabbed me by the hand and turned, threading her way through the crowd as I trailed behind. We squeezed through a group of people clustered in front of the bar. She stood up on her tiptoes and leaned over the counter, looking for the bartender. Her miniskirt rode up, revealing her long legs, defined calves, and did I mention legs for days? I was a leg man, and hers were fucking phenomenal. They’d look incredible over my shoulders.
She was hot as hell.
Unfortunately, after seeing how unsteady she was walking over to the bar, I had a feeling she was drunk as hell too.
“So…” Bailey turned back to face me and stepped closer. Yup, her eyes were glassy. She traced a slender finger down my torso, coming to a halt above my jeans. “Does your offer still stand?”
I wished I could say yes. I really, really did.
“That depends,” I said, studying her. “How drunk are you?”
I had a few hard limits—like taking advantage of drunk girls. And I had a feeling she was well past the point of tipsy.
She made a face like I’d insulted her. “What, are you gonna breathalyze me?”
“Should I? You seem pretty wasted.”
“Maybe a little.” Bailey swayed on the spot, confirming my suspicions that she was significantly more intoxicated than she had been during our earlier encounter. Grabbing the edge of the bar, she braced herself, looking down at the surface. “Okay, maybe more than a little. That last shot is hitting me hard.”
“Do you want a glass of water?”
“No, I think I want to leave.” Her lips folded into a frown. “I’m getting tired.”
Pretty sure “tired” was code for the spins, but I wasn’t rude enough to call her out.
“Your friends look a little occupied.” I nodded in their direction, where Tyler and Zara were dirty dancing in the corner of the dance floor, accompanied by Noelle and our third-line center, Gabe. “Should I go break it up so they can leave with you?”
Bailey glanced over and paused, brow crinkling. “No…I don’t want to ruin their night.” She hiccupped. “I’ll get an Uber.”
In other words, she’d rather ruin my night than Zara and Noelle’s, because there was no way I’d let her leave by herself. I’d be surprised if she even made it home.
“You can’t leave here alone.”
“Sure I can,” she said, grabbing her purse off the bar. “Watch me.”
I shook my head. “I’ll come with you.”
“Because you want to get me into bed?” She gave me a coy smile and tripped over her own feet. I caught her elbow, steadying her.
“No, because I want to make sure you don’t die.”
She shrugged, tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder. “Eh, works for me.” She pulled out her phone and typed a quick text. A moment later, from over on the dance floor, Zara checked her phone and glanced up, looking in our direction.
Bailey waved at her friends, pointing to the exit and mouthing, “Bye.”
Noelle shot her a questioning look, gesturing as if to say “what gives?”
Bailey waved her off and gave her a thumbs-up, which seemed to pacify her.
“They’re okay with you leaving with me?” I asked.
“Oh, I told them who you are,” she said. “If anything happens to me, they’ll know who did it.”
Drunk logic for sure, but whatever worked.
