Neve stiffened as Tor slid into the seat beside her. She refused to glance over and instead focused on his hand, the one that had just roamed the wilds of her body like Davy Crockett. It sported fresh scrapes on the knuckles, the middle one split.
“Hey! You’re bleeding, man,” Jed said, passing him a napkin. “What were you doing?”
Tor grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his hand as Neve’s heart skipped a beat. From the corner of her eye she saw the frat boy from the hallway storming to the exit with one eye swollen shut.
“He defended my honor,” she broke in wryly, still unable to believe it.
Had Tor really done that? Punched the white-hat asshole?
Breezy and Jed paused before bursting out laughing.
“Good one.” Her sister’s shoulders shook. “You deadpan better than anyone. For a second I almost believed you.”
Breezy didn’t mean her amusement to come across as mean. Neve abstractly knew she laughed out of disbelief that Tor would ever be called upon to be her heroic knight in shining armor.
But to a sour, hurting part deep in her soul, it sounded mocking.
The gorgeous head coach of a professional hockey team body checking a drunken frat boy on my behalf? Yeah. Right. Dream on.
“Got my hand jammed in a door while trying to get some air.” Tor drained his glass without further explanation.
Such an obvious lie. Confusion swept through her as her brain grappled for any logic. Tor Gunnarhadpunched that jerk. Did he really fight for her? The notion shouldn’t be sexy. Violence was never the answer. But—gah—there was something so undeniably delicious about a straight-laced man turning into an utter caveman.
But then again, look at the facts. He wasn’t giving her a pent-up look full of secret “I shed blood for you” passion. In fact, he stared past her shoulder as if she wasn’t even there, like what had happened in that bathroom meant nothing.
As if he’d already forgotten it.
A wave of insecurity swept away any arousal.
“We got a game this weekend, playing Michigan State. Want to come offer some advice?” Jed asked him after a beat.
Neve appreciated her sister’s boyfriend’s low tolerance for conversational silences. Let him fill the air space and keep the attention off her. And Tor’s knuckles.
“Can’t. I’m going to a wedding.” He made it sound like he was getting a root canal.
“Shouldn’t that be a happy occasion?” Margot plonked down, jumping in mid-conversation as usual.
“It’s for my ex-wife,” Tor said crisply. “I’m suresheis looking forward to it.”
Neve’s mouth dried. He was going to watch his ex-wife marry another man. Eeesh. Thatwason par with getting a root canal. Without novocaine.
“Ouch, that’s no bueno.” Margot wrinkled her nose. “Hope you’ve lined up a hot date as a matter of pride.”
“I’m flying solo,” Tor grunted.
“Are you crazy?” Margot was never one to beat around a bush. “No, no, no! You can’t do that. That’s a rookie move. Think over your options. Who can you ask?Someonehas to volunteer as tribute.”
“My sister did. Then she fell rock climbing. Unfortunately, her rehabilitation doesn’t gel with that timetable.” Tor’s frosty rebuttal settled over the table like another ice age, freezing them into another awkward silence. Even Margot appeared to be quelled.
“The air-hockey table has opened up.” Jed pointed, once again saving the day.
“I’m in,” Neve announced, eager for the distraction, just as Tor muttered, “Sounds good.”
“Ooh, competition! I like it!” Margot rubbed her hands together. “Let’s play battle of the sexes! First round Breezy and Neve versus Tor and Jed.”
“Hey now, this isn’t going to be fair.” Neve hoped her sarcastic drawl hid the fact her nipples could cut glass.
“It’s going to be awkward when we school you boys in front of the whole bar,” Breezy crowed.
