Though I can’t say I’m not curious about her.
I eye Roman. “Who was that?”
He puts his device down and meets my gaze. “A friend.”
“You don’t recognize her?” Colton Thompson, the team’s center and our captain, asks. His knowing smile tells me I’m missing something, but I’ve genuinely never seen that woman before.
“No. Should I?”
Drake Benson, our right winger, laughs. “Guy clearly knows nothing about tennis.”
I assess each of the guys, frowning. “She’s…a tennis player?”
“Yup.” Roman nods. “One of the best. She’s ranked in the top ten of the Women’s Tennis Association.”
“Wow. I had no clue.” I tilt my head to the side. “How do you know her?”
Roman scratches his brow. “I met Yana when she moved to Santa Clara, four years ago, maybe? She’s from Belarus, like me, and we hit it off quickly. Being so far from home, it’s good to have a friend from a similar background. We can reminisce about the places we loved to visit when we were younger. That kind of thing.”
“I get it.” I drape my arm around Hayes’s shoulder, startling him. “Camden and I have been best friends since preschool. Even the years we spent apart in college, and later in the NHL, didn’t dampen our friendship.”
“You’re such a sap,” Camden grunts. He pushes me away and zeroes in on Roman. “And I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to offend you. All I wanted was to rile that girl up a little.”
“Forget about it. We’re cool.” Roman smirks. “Yana taught you a good lesson.”
From there, the conversation turns to other topics. At first, I try to listen, but I quickly find myself staring at the woman—Yana—again. She’s sitting at a table not far from ours, with a brunette across from her. The joy radiating from her as they talk and laugh only makes me smile wider.
Damn, she’s stunning.
Her face is the kind a man doesn’t forget. Big round eyes framed by long dark lashes. The light in the restaurant is dim, but her eyes look like they are a unique gray-green color. Her high cheekbones sharpen her beauty, though they’re in juxtaposition to the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the fullness of her lips. Her nearly porcelain skin only makes her freckles stand out more. She’s warm and magnetic, making it nearly impossible to take my eyes off her.
I want to ask her out.
“Are you talking to yourself?” Camden asks, breaking the spell I’ve been under.
Confused, I peer over at him. “What?”
“You just said, ‘I want to ask her out.’”
My jaw unhinges. I did?
Brows pulled together, he studies me. “Were you talking about that redhead?”
“Technically, I’ve been thinking about her.” I flash him a smile.
He rolls his eyes. “You’re fucking weird. She’s so full of herself.”
My smile drops, and an unfamiliar protectiveness flares to life in my veins. “What makes you say that?”
“Didn’t you see how she snapped at me? Attitude for days.”
I hold his gaze, leaning forward. “It’s not an attitude. It’s her protecting her boundaries and putting you in your place. And saying she’s so full of herself? There’s no need for that kind of shit. You shouldn’t be talking about women like that, especially around me. You may be my best friend, but I won’t put up with it.”
“Whatever.” He picks up his glass of whiskey and downs it in one go. “I’m ready to leave.”
I take a sip of my own drink and set the glass down easily. “Bored already?”
He grimaces. “When Jones invited us out for his birthday, I expected a club or a private party. Not this dinner at a fancy steakhouse.”
