“He gained almost seven pounds while I was away! I’m afraid I won’t recognize him.”
“You’re so dramatic.” I shake my head. “You should’ve been an actress, not a project manager for an IT company.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but the buzz of her phone stops her. As she checks her messages, I scan the restaurant. Several people sit at the bar, some alone, sipping on drinks. The majority of the crowd is made up of couples, and a handful of families are seated nearby too.
When a little boy with curly hair catches my eye and waves at me, warmth blooms inside me, and a smile curves my lips.
A prickling sensation at the back of my neck sends goosebumps all over my body. Like a little spark sliding under my skin and making it burn.
Brows knit, I continue my perusal, this time searching for the person who’s watching me.
Eventually, a pair of crystal blue eyes snags my attention. The man, one of the hockey players nearby, has dark hair and pale skin, making his eye color pop. His cheekbones are sharp and covered in a slight stubble, and his lips are full, as if they were made for smirking. And the smirk he’s flashing me is dangerous. His hair is messy on top but shaved on the sides, giving him a just-rolled-out-of-bed look. Add in the way his white shirt hugs the broad plane of his chest so perfectly, and it’s clear that he’s trouble.
That alone is enough to force me to tear my gaze away from him.
When I do, I catch sight of Roman Pashkevich, the Thunders’ right defenseman. He’s a fellow Belarusian I met a few years ago,right after I moved to California. The guy is the sweetest, though his wife, Nevaeh, swears that most of the world doesn’t see the softer side of him. Apparently, he only acts like that with people he cares about. I don’t know how I ended up on that list, but I’m not complaining. I love him and his family.
“I see Roman,” I say.
Eyes snapping to me, Chloe straightens. “Really? Will you talk to him? Ask him if he’ll introduce me to the guys?”
“Is this a line item on some kind of weird bucket list I don’t know about? First you were searching for a baseball player, then it was basketball. Now hockey.”
“Different guys, different flavors.” She winks at me.
I pretend to gag, and it only makes her laugh.
“Go,” she urges me. “While you chat them up, I need to check my email. My boss has clearly forgotten that my workday is over.”
I stand and slowly head to the Thunders’ table.
Roman turns when I’m a few feet away and breaks into a warm smile.
“Privet! Kakimi sud’bami??2” He scoops me into his arms and presses me to his chest. Then he leans away, his deep turquoise eyes fixed on me. “Ochen’ zhal’ naschet turnira. Nev i ya tak zhdali ego. Hoteli za tebya pobolet’ kak obychno?3.”
“Podruga vernulas’ s komandirovki, i pozvala menya na uzhin. Reshila soglasit’sya. Skol’ko mozhno uzhe handrit’??4” I give him a smile and step back. “A naschet turnira—budet sleduyushyi v sleduyushem godu. Mozhet togda povezet?5.”
“Kogda ty na korte, ty neveroyatnaya. Povezet obyazatel’no?6.”
Heart full, I say, “Spasibo?7, Rom?8.”
Warmth courses through my veins, making me feel weightless. He’s six years older than me, and he’s always treatedme like his little sister. I adore him like I would a brother. But truthfully, I keep up with Nevaeh more than Roman.
When he leans in and whispers that Nevaeh is pregnant again, I feign surprise and give him a quick hug. There’s no way I’ll admit that his wife spilled the beans just before I was set to leave for Doha.
Roman and I chat, and the conversation is easy, grounding. It feels good to just talk, to not have to perform.
I smile, my posture relaxed. That is, until a voice cuts in, snagging our attention.
The man’s tone is low, his voice a lazy drawl. “We’re in America. Maybe switch to English so the rest of us don’t feel left out?”
What the hell?
Annoyed, I turn toward the source of the shitty comment, and I’m instantly met with familiar crystal blue eyes and that smirk.
“What’s your problem?” I ask the disgustingly good-looking man.
“My problem? You’re speaking a language I don’t understand. For all I know, you’re insulting the rest of us,” he taunts, clearly pleased with himself and his bullshit.
