Red high heels.
Identical to the ones in Shane’s closet he’d forced me into one night at his house. I loved the way they looked, then and now. Absolutely freaking gorgeous. Even more, I loved the way they made me feel.
My already insanely long legs were even longer, but they did something to my butt that should be illegal. I just didn’t know if I could pull the outfit off. This ensemble required swagger that I only had on the ice.
A quick glance at the clock told me what I already knew. I was late. Well, not late late, but late enough, I worried I’d leave Ollie waiting.
I pulled out some sweats and slides, because even if I did gather the nerve to wear the outfit at the club, I wasn’t walking around in public with it on. Spotting the new black skinny jeans I bought the other day, which had a chain hanging from the waistband, I grabbed them and slung the sweatpants back into the closet. The outfit wouldn’t be as dramatic, but if I switched the shorts for the jeans, I would feel more comfortable in the heels. And Ireallywanted to wear them.
I changed into the jeans, slipping the heels back on. My face stretched into a smile so wide my cheeks hurt.
“Perfection.”
THIRTY-ONE
SASHA
With Hawk deposited in the private room upstairs, I rode the elevator back to the lobby, then walked into the club. Aiden texted a while ago, letting me know he’d arrived. I even got a selfie to add to the hidden photo album on my phone.
Luminescent came to mind when I opened the message. His beautiful face radiated happiness and light. And sex. The long layered strawberry blond hair I loved so much lay around his shoulders. Lip gloss glinted on his lips. His cheeks shimmered, and black liner circled his eyes, giving them a sultry, smoky look.
I couldn’t wait to see what he chose to wear. Ollie manned the front desk regularly, and he typically wore jeans topped by t-shirts with sassy DDlb sayings that cracked me up. But I had a feeling that wasn’t what he’d be wearing tonight as a guest.
A countdown clock ran on my phone screen for the draft. I had plans for my boy after he signed his contract. I didn’t know what I’d do if the team that drafted him left him at The U for another year.
“Lose my fucking mind,” I muttered, sitting at the end of the bar that gave me the best view of the dance floor.
“Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity,” Ewen said.
“Same could be said for talking to you.” The guy smacked Ewen on the back hard enough that it had to hurt. Ewen shook his head. I’d missed that sort of camaraderie over the last few years. If you asked me, I would’ve denied it, knowing full well I was lying through my teeth.
Ewen said, “Storm, this is my buddy Abraham.”
“Fuck you, asshole.” Abraham reached his hand out to me. I gripped it, and he said, “Call me Slone. My mom and pops are the only ones who call me Abraham. And this fucker when he’s beggin’ for a beatin’.”
I laughed. “My name is Alex.”
“Alex Storm? Sounds like a porn name.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Alex Svartström…”
Ewen continued, “Also known as Sasha Storm if you’re a hockey fan.”
“Ahh. Gotcha. I’ve watched hockey with Ewen for years, but I still don’t rightly understand it. I’m a football guy.”
“Hockey’s my first love, but a Sunday on the couch watching the Pack…”
“Fuck yeah…” Slone said at the same time that Ewen yelled, “Nope. Get the fuck out.”
I laughed as Ewen stormed off. “I take it he’s a Vikings fan.”
Slone shrugged. “He’s from Minnesota. I’ve tried for years to convert his ass, but there’s no accounting for taste.”
Ewen came back, placing a bottle of whiskey and another of vodka on the bar before me, along with three shot glasses. I arched my brow.
“The whiskey’s for me because for some reason I keep making friends with fucking Packers fans…”
“Scott, Lucia, and Hayden are Seahawks fans.”
