“Your first time here?” he asks, which is a lousy line but I’ll forgive him on account of the hotness. “I just, uh, I don’t think I’ve seen you around… and I definitely would have remembered you.”
“Yeah, this place wasn’t here the last time I was in town.” He takes my empty glass from me, his fingers trailing lightly against my palm when he does. “I grew up here but I’ve been away for a bit.”
“What brings you back, then?”
“Starting a new job tomorrow.” I make a face and pretend to gag, and Damon lets out the deepest rumble of a laugh.
“What’s the job?” he asks.
“Nothing interesting. I didn’t want to take it, but my dad’s been hounding me to at least give it a shot, so here I am.” He hands me another shot, and I grin at him as it goes down.
From the corner of my eye, I can see a table of guys watching us—I assume they’re with Damon, but not a single one of them makes a fuss about how I’m stealing their drinks. One of them even winks at Damon.
“You’ve got a lot of friends,” I quip, smirking.
“Old hockey teammates from college. We get together now and then.”
Hah.So he is an athlete. A hockey player no less, which happens to be Donlan Sports Agency’s forte. What are the chances?
“Do you still play?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nope. Broke my collarbone during my last season and lost my chances of going pro.”
“That sucks. What do you do now?”
“Nothing interesting,” he says, mimicking my answer. I smirk.Fair enough.
“I guess talking about our work is off-limits, huh?” I ask.
He gives me an amused look. “I suppose so. Not that I hate my job, but it’s not as fascinating as my pro hockey friends, and I’m scared you’ll go talk to one of them instead.”
“Why? Are they hotter?” Laughing, I break eye contact with him for the first time in our conversation to get a better look at his friends. The blond guy sitting near the end of their booth looks very familiar.Very.
“Wait. Is that Westley Harrison from the Rockets?” I ask, startled.
“Yep. One of the best goalies in the minors.”
“I heard he doesn’t want to move up, despite a lot of teams trying to get him.”
“That’s correct.” His mouth quirks up. “Didn’t realize you were a hockey fan.”
“I’m not,” I counter, because it’s the truth. However, I have been researching local players because if Dad’s going to make me work for him, I’m going to show him I can. I’m competitive like that.
Damon steps away once more—ugh—and he gives me a slight smile. He crosses his arms, his shirt tightening across his thick biceps once again, and yeah…Definitelya hockey player, even if former. He’s still got the body to prove it.
“You want me to introduce you to my friends? You could join our table, if you’d like.” Not sure if I’m imagining it, but I swear there’s a hardness in his otherwise very kind voice.Jealousy.It makes me grin.
God, I’ve got this guy right where I want him and he doesn’t even know it.
I smile at him. “I prefer to have you all to myself, actually.”
Damon’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. I don’t think he’s even aware he’s doing it. He has no idea what it does to me. I hold his gaze for a few seconds, running scenarios in my head.
And the slight pause in conversation snaps something within me.
I’m here to shoot my shot, and I’m done wasting my time. It’s time to lay out exactly what I want. And, honestly? If he shoots me down, then too bad, but at least we wouldn’t be wasting any more of each other’s time.
I really hope he says yes, though.
