Penny, Brianne’s stepsister—a temptation I didn’t want to admit.
“That’s Bellamy blood right there,” Rex Buchanan said beside me, grinning because he probably won a side bet with one of the guys. Betting that my brother would shove someone into the boards in the first period was the safest wager in hockey.
“He’s having a career year. Sports analysts said he peaked too early. Idiots. We know better.” Richard Buchanan leaned his forearms on the rail, eyes locked on the ice where Tucker—my little brother, the family’s golden puck—skated backward with a speed that defied physics.
“You know he thrives on being underestimated.” My words came out half-hearted. Goddammit. Focus, Archer. Get her out of your head.
“Careful.” Keaton Kingston finished his beer as the buzzer sounded the end of the first period, his brewer’s shoulders stretching the plaid he wore like a second skin. “Talk like that and the bookies will start swooning.”
I smirked into my glass. “Tucker’s too busy to care about the odds, having a diaper bag in one hand and a hockey stick in the other.”
Rex barked a laugh. “Come on. Let’s go up to the box and eat.”
We all vacated our season ticket seats and filed up the stairs, ending eventually at the Buchanan box they maintained annually for the games. The bartender quickly served our drinks, and attendants stood nearby, ready to load our plates up with a buffet of sports fan cuisine. My personal choices—the spicy pulled pork loaded fries, jumbo buffalo wings, and to top it all off, a stack of iced mini donuts.
“All our wives are angels taking care of the kids tonight so we can have this night out. We owe them,” Rex finished off an Italian sausage sandwich.
“I’ll be sure to pay Sophie back well when I get home,” Keaton grinned, wiping his mouth of the buffalo sauce on his wings.
Richard lifted his glass of Scotch in a toast. “To wives who make us better men.”
Glasses clinked all around—except mine and Griffin West’s.
He sat with his young son beside him, the only other man here not married. Not that it was a contest between us to see who would marry first. Hard to say. Me, the unfortunate bachelor—and trying not to put Penny at the top of a very short list of prospects. And reminding myself once again that she was Brianne’s stepsister. Or Griffin, the billionaire single father, who seemed perfectly content in his singleness.
We ate like kings, the five of us, men of the world, wealthy as shit. The only one missing was Brooks, who opted to stay home with Maisy. But Tucker and I arranged to meet after the game and go to their place here in the city so he could meet Everett. Our little nephew was over a week old and growing fast, according to the photos hitting my phone daily from his parents.
“So,” Rex said, slapping me on the back. “What’s the latest from Maisy and Brooks? Adjusting to life with two children under two?”
My grin was smug and stupidly happy. “Wren loves her baby brother. Maisy’s a rock star. Brooks watches over all of them like his life depends on it.”
Keaton pointed his fork toward me. “When are we going to toast you, Archer?”
“Maybe never.” I kept my tone breezy. “I might become the eccentric bachelor uncle who brings all the kids inappropriate gifts at Christmas that make their parents question my sanity.”
Griffin’s boy Theo perked up. “Archer brought me a drone for my birthday. Dad said it was too expensive.”
I laid a solemn hand over my heart. “Your dad is allergic to joy.”
Griffin narrowed his eyes at me. “Your dad also has to keep you from being sued when the drone flies into the window of Mrs. Eldenrod’s penthouse next door again.”
Laughter ripped through the room as Griffin ruffled Theo’s hair and stood, leaving their finished plates for the attendants to clean up. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go watch the next period from the glass.” He shot me a look that said he knew exactly what he was doing—removing his kid so the conversation could get unfiltered.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Richard leaned back and laced his fingers over his dad-bod torso. He says it’s dueto Vivian’s baking at her shop and at home. “So, Arch, really. What’s going on with you lately?”
Shit. These guys knew me too well. I took my time with a sip of Macallan, letting the burn buy me seconds. “Define ‘going on.’”
“Does your dry spell continue?” Rex asked, getting to the heart of it.
Normally, I’d lie. Deflect with a joke. It kept them from poking at the hollow parts of my life. But the memory of Penny’s smile at the coffee shop this week had been stubborn—like sunlight that never faded. The way she hung on every word I said was a lot for my head and heart to process. Damn my craving for female attention.
I set my glass down, daring to go there. Needing my guys to rally around me to figure things out. “Matter of fact, I came across someone on Dax’s app.”
All eyes swiveled toward me.
Rex frowned. “You actually used Dax’s matchmaking service?”
“I invested. So yeah, I tested it out.” I lifted a shoulder. “I swiped. Mostly left.”
