I feel like a fucking creep right now.
I’ve been sitting at the bar for the last twenty minutes just watching Hollis and Emilia dance out on the floor. They’re laughing about something—what, I don’t know—but I can’t help but notice that this version of Hollis is the exact opposite of the version I met yesterday.
Honestly, she’s confusing as hell.
And intriguing.
I hate that she’s intriguing because it makes me want to get to know her. I don’t want to want to get to know her.
“You look like hammered dog shit.”
“Thank you. I was hoping someone would notice how hard I worked to look good today.”
Smith laughs, taking a seat on the stool next to me. “This have anything to do with the fight you started last night?”
“One, it wasn’t a fight. Two, how do you even know about that? You weren’t there.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Word gets around.”
“Miller?” His grin is answer enough, and I shake my head. “Fucking rookie.” I toss back the rest of my cocktail and motion to the bartender for another. “It’s not last night. It’s just…other shit.”
“Other shit like that girl you’re staring at?”
My eyes drift back out toward the dance floor in the middle of the courtyard. Hollis has her arms up as she shimmies her ass from side to side. Honestly, she’s a horrible dancer. Zero rhythm and doesn’t know how to move her body at all.
But for some reason, I still can’t look away.
“Interesting,” he mutters, and I turn my attention back to him.
“What is?”
“Nothing. I just haven’t seen you like this in a while.”
“Like what?”
“Captivated.”
I scoff. “I’m not captivated. I’m…”
“Interested?”
I glare at him. “Intrigued is all.”
“Right.”
“Dude, it’s nothing.”
He holds his hands up in innocence. “I didn’t say it was.”
“Your tone sure as shit did.”
“And your insistence that it’s nothing sure as shit does too.”
“Because it’s nothing. You know how I feel about relationships.”
When everything went down with Celine several years ago, Smith was there to help me pick up the pieces and put myself back together. I was still finding my way with the Comets at the time, and Smith took me under his wing and helped me get my head screwed back on so the whole mess wouldn’t affect my performance on the ice too badly. He said I was too young and had too promising of a career to let something like that get me down and get me sent back to the AHL.
So, I adopted his philosophy on life—hockey comes first no matter what. I’ve lived by that rule for the last several years and it’s kept me on track. Because of it, I got to hoist the Stanley Cup over my head, and that’s what this is all about, isn’t it?
“And you get it—we have the same outlook on that,” I say.
He runs a hand over his jaw, scratching at the neatly trimmed beard he keeps. “I don’t know. I’m starting to think I might have been wrong about that after all.”
I snap my head back, surprised by his words. “Oh man, tell me you aren’t going soft on me too. It’s bad enough hearing Collin and Rhodes going on and on about their wives. Don’t tell me they got to you too.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Nah. Just…getting older. Starting to realize the things that matter and that don’t.”
“Hockey matters.”
“Hockey always matters. But…some things matter more.”
I follow his line of sight out onto the dance floor, and unless I am completely crazy, he’s looking right at Hollis’ dance partner.
I have questions—so many questions—but much like me, Smith is a private guy. That’s something we agree upon and respect about one another.
I can’t help but wonder though if Emilia may just be the cause of the shift I’ve seen in him over the last two years. The timeline does add up…
“Ignore me,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s just weddings. Sometimes they get you thinking, you know? Of things you might be missing.”
A sharp twinge in my chest pulls my attention.
“Missing? What could be missing?”
He gives me a look that tells me I know exactly what he’s referring to, but I ignore it.
He means love. I don’t miss love because I don’t need it. I don’t need it because I’ve had it and it sucks. All I need is hockey…and maybe a few one-night stands. That’s it.
“Anyway.” He pushes off the bar, then claps me on the back. “I’m going to go stop Miller from feeling up Ryan’s grandmother. He’s getting handsy, and I don’t trust the rookie.”
I laugh because it’s probably not a bad idea. To say Miller is a bit unpredictable would be an understatement.
He turns away and takes two steps before spinning right back around toward me. I lift a brow at him in question.
“Ask her to dance.”
“Ask who to dance?”
“The girl you can’t take your eyes off of. Trust me, if I could ask somebody to dance right now, I would.” He glances back at the dance floor longingly before giving his head a shake and retreating into the crowd.
I peel my eyes away from his retreating back and look out at the crowd on the floor. Hollis is dancing right in the center, throwing her arms about, having the time of her life.
She looks ridiculous. Happy.
And for the briefest moment, I want to be out there with her having fun too.
The song slowly slips into a much milder tempo. Emilia motions toward the bar, but Hollis waves her off, swaying back and forth slowly by herself in the middle of the crowd.
I don’t know why I do it. It could be Smith’s words repeating in my head, or it could be because she looks so awkward swaying back and forth alone. Either way, I let my feet carry me forward.
I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of her. Her eyes widen, surprised to see me. I’m surprised by it too.
I don’t know who makes the first move, but one second she’s standing four feet away from me, and the next she’s in my arms, no longer dancing awkwardly alone.
We’re slowly moving around the dance floor, completely coordinated, and it feels comfortable doing this with her. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t been this close to someone in a long time, but her body feels good next to mine. Soft…warm.
“You’re really good at this,” she mutters quietly after several long silent seconds.
“Lessons.”
“Huh?”
“I took dance lessons. Ballet too. A lot of hockey players do. It helps us move better on the ice, increases our flexibility and agility.”
She tips her head to the side. “That is…unexpected.”
“Plus, it helps us score points with the ladies.”
“Is that something you need help with? Scoring points with the ladies?”
“I don’t know—you tell me. How am I doing?”
“Scale of one to ten?” I nod. “I’d say a solid four.”
“A four?”
“A solid four.”
“Ah, yes, solid makes it so much better.”
“I mean, it really does. You could be a soft four, which is really more like a three.”
“Out of ten?”
She nods. “Afraid so.”
“And how does one score a three out of ten exactly?”
She motions behind me, so I swing us around, wanting to see what she’s looking at.
“You see that guy dancing with the old lady? That is a solid three. He definitely gets points for yucking it up with the elderly, but he loses a lot of points because it looks desperate, like he’s trying way too hard to impress someone.”
“You do know that’s my teammate, right?”
“Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just relay them.”
“I’d say your scoring is spot-on because well, I know Miller and he is definitely trying too hard, but I’m still confused how he is a solid three while I am a solid four. I’ve not danced with one old lady tonight, and I certainly don’t look desperate. How am I only one point ahead of him?”
“Ah, see that’s where it gets kind of tricky. You haven’t danced with any old ladies tonight, so you definitely lose points there. You’ve also not danced with anyone tonight, so you lose more points there. In fact, all you’ve done is sit at the bar skulking, so again, you lose more points. At that point, you’re a one.”
“How do you know what I’ve been doing all night?”
Her cheeks turn pink like she’s admitted to something she shouldn’t have.
“That’s not the point,” she mutters. “The point is the points.”
“Right. And I have…one? For not being gentlemanly enough and being an antisocial asshole, but also not looking desperate?”
She shakes her head. “Four.”
“How do I gain the other three?”
“Snazzy suit and scruffy sexy five o’clock shadow combined with your lonely hearts club attitude giving you this whole I’m broken please fix me vibe have brought you up a few.”
“Let’s definitely circle back to that snazzy suit and scruffy sexy five o’clock shadow.”
“Ah, see, you spoke, so you’re back down to a three. You are much cuter when you don’t speak.”
“Duly noted. Don’t speak—got it.”
“Look at that, already down to a two.”
“Well, since I’m losing points by the minute, I’d like to address the whole lonely hearts club thing. I can assure you I am not out here looking for a lover or a friend.”
“Really? This is a wedding after all. Isn’t that what people do at weddings? They hook up and make one-time bad choices they’ll regret later because they’re sad and lonely because someone else is getting their happily ever after when they’re a freshly divorced almost-thirty-year-old starting their life over.”
I lift a pointed brow at her. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience there.”
It would make sense though—the reason she was crying in her car, the reason she’s been crying all weekend, the reason her emotions seem to be all over the place.
If she’s freshly divorced, this weekend has to hurt for her.
The only indication that I might be right is the way her eyes flit away from mine just before that same sadness I saw before seeps back into her gaze, and it makes me want to hold her closer and wrap my arms around her to form a protective layer so nobody can ever hurt her again. Whoever broke her like this, I want to break them.
More than that, I want to see her happy and carefree again. I’d do anything to get that back.
I tug her closer until her body is flush against mine and drop my lips to her ear, trying not to get distracted by how good she smells when I’m standing this close to her. Her heart rate picks up at our proximity, and I can hear her breaths coming in sharper by the second.
“Tell me, Hollis, are you looking for a lover or friend?”
She gulps. It’s so audible I hear that too.
She tips her head back, staring up at me, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Are you offering?”
It’s my turn to be surprised because I did not expect her to say that.
“That depends… Which one are you looking for?”
She laughs, though there’s no humor to it, and slowly shakes her head.
“Neither. I have no business looking for either. Not right now.”
“Everyone deserves a friend, Hollis. Even you.” I tip my head down until we are eye to eye. “Especially you.”
Another stuttered breath.
Her eyes flash to my lips, then to my eyes, back to my lips once again.
If I were to move just an inch, our mouths would be touching. I’d be kissing Hollis, and I don’t think I would be stopping anytime soon.
She opens her mouth to respond, but whatever she’s about to say is cut off by a shutter sound.
I glare at the intrusion.
“Sorry,” the wedding photographer says, not looking the least bit sorry at all. “You two were just…wow. The chemistry was sparking—I had to capture it.”
He shakes the camera at us and snaps a few more pictures before sauntering off. The moment has passed.
I look back to Hollis, but with how stiff she’s grown in my arms, I already know what’s coming before she even says it.
“I have to go.”
She pulls away, and I let her leave.
I don’t know how long I stand there watching her walk away, and I don’t know how long I stand there after she’s gone.
I do know it takes me all of one second to miss her and to want to hold her again, and all of two seconds to push away the hundreds of questions already running through my head. I also know it takes me exactly thirty steps to get to the door leading outside, and it takes me one minute to find her in the gardens off to the side of the brewery.
She’s sitting on a bench, her shoulders curled forward, head resting in her hands. It’s obvious she’s upset, but I don’t know what about, and I don’t know why I care so much.
Why the hell do I care so much?
I stalk toward her slowly and quietly, not wanting to startle her, but somehow, she knows I’m here.
“You can’t be my friend, Lowell.”
I take a seat on the bench next to her, not missing the tear that streaks down her face. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t like you.”
I laugh softly, gently reaching for her face and tipping it up so she’s looking at me.
“That’s fine. I don’t really like you either.”
It’s a lie. I do like her. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I liked someone as much as I like her.
I don’t want to like her, just like I really don’t want to be fighting this urge to press my lips to hers. I don’t want to want to kiss her.
But I do.
I really, really do.
Especially when she’s peering up at me with wide eyes filled with unshed tears. I want to kiss away all the sadness and all the problems she seems to be having. I want to see her smile again. I want to see her laugh.
Want to taste her.
I think she’s just as surprised as I am when I press my lips to hers. It takes her a moment to respond, like she’s waiting for her brain to catch on to what’s happening.
I’m waiting for my brain to catch on to what’s happening too.
Why am I kissing her? What the hell am I doing?
I don’t know how long we sit like that, unmoving, our lips just resting together, but it’s like all the tension snaps out of the air in a second flat and we’re not sitting still anymore.
Hollis kisses me back like it’s the first and last kiss she’ll ever get, and I don’t dare waste a second of it, sliding my hand higher into her hair, the other one going to her hip, dragging her to me until she’s straddling my lap.
She lets out a low moan the moment our bodies connect, then settles against me like she’s sitting right where she belongs. Her hands crash into my hair, tugging me closer and deepening the kiss.
There’s no way she doesn’t feel my cock through these awful dress pants, just like there’s no mistaking the wet spot pressing against me where our bodies are meeting.
I drag my hands down her body, running my fingertips along her curves, memorizing them, making sure I touch every inch of her. I slip my hands over her ass and under the thin, flowy dress that’s bunched around her waist. My hands slide over her cheeks, and I make a low noise of approval when I realize she’s wearing a thong.
She wrenches her mouth away at the sound, her breaths coming in ragged as she stares at me with glassy eyes—this time for a reason other than tears.
“What are we doing, Lowell?”
“I’m being your friend.”
She laughs softly. “I told you I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t like you.”
“Fine. Then I’m being your lover.”
She crushes her lip between her teeth. “That’s a bad idea.”
“I know.”
“It’s a really, really bad idea.”
“I know.”
“This is exactly like one of those bad ideas I was talking about earlier.”
“I know, Hollis.” I squeeze her ass cheeks, dropping my forehead to hers. “I know.”
She’s right. It’s a really bad idea. Like the worst possible one ever.
She’s my teammate’s sister-in-law. Collin would kill me. Not to mention she’s freshly divorced and sleeping with her right now would probably fall into a morally gray area. She’s too emotionally vulnerable.
She’s too—
She moves her hips, rubbing herself against my cock, which is still dying to get out of these dress pants. I grip her hips, tugging her closer because oh god does she feel good. I run my nose along her jaw, loving the smell of fresh flowers that seems to be radiating off her.
“What are you doing, Hollis?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought this was a bad decision.”
“It is. Such a bad one.”
“The worst,” I agree, peppering kisses along her neck.
She nods. “Lowell?”
“Hmm?”
She pulls back, our eyes colliding, the moon reflecting off her dark blue gaze.
If this is the moment she walks away, I want to commit it to memory. She’s gorgeous, her skin slightly sticky from the heat in the air, cheeks flushed from my kisses, hair a mess from my hands.
Her mouth opens, and she says something I didn’t know I needed to hear so badly.
“I want to make a one-time bad decision with you.”
