“Such a northerner,” Rosa teased. “It’s barely hot.” But she led the way across the lawn towards the patio, where several large aluminum tubs had been filled with ice and bottles of pop and beer.
“What, no open bar?” Peyton asked. “There aren’t even any waiters milling around. What kind of a billionaire’s soiree is this?”
“I bet Andy told Deb he wanted to keep it casual for the team,” I guessed, referring to my brother’s long-term personal assistant, who had more than likely carried out all the plans for this get-together. My brother’s entire life—and multi-billion-dollar corporation—would fall apart without her. He couldn’t even manage to schedule his dentist appointments without Deb.
“Yeah, Andy would want to show them what a guy’s guy he is,” Peyton said, smirking.
Rosa fingered the sign on the tub, a mini chalkboard alerting party-goers that the contents were beer. It appeared to have been hand-lettered, maybe even by a professional calligrapher from the looks of it. “I don’t think Deb is very good at keeping things casual.”
“Yeah, because she spends half her time planning black-tie events for his investors,” I said. “She probably has no idea what to do with a bunch of hockey players.”
“We’re generally pretty easy to please,” a voice said behind us, and we all turned to see a gorgeous man smiling at us. At first glance, I wouldn’t have guessed him to be a hockey player—he was a lot shorter than most of these guys, and didn’t have the same bulky build. But one look at his shy grin, dark skin, and striking whiskey-colored eyes and I knew exactly who he was—Gabriel Dalton, the best winger to have stayed with the team through the move from Atlanta.
“Wow,” I murmured, feeling suddenly star-struck. Which was silly. Liam was definitely the biggest name on the team, andI had been plenty comfortable with him when I was stripping in my living room in broad daylight. But that was Liam, the guy I’d known since he was a gawky kid. I had only ever seen Gabriel Dalton play on TV.
And he was damn impressive on TV. What he didn’t have in bulk, Dalton made up for in speed. He had to be one of the fastest players in the NHL. Give this guy the puck and some room and he could make magic on the ice.
“Feed us burgers and decent beer and we’re usually happy,” he was saying, kindly ignoring the way I was gaping at him in wide-eyed wonder.
“I’m a really big fan,” I blurted out, unable to help myself. His grin grew even more shy.
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“I’m Peyton Baxter,” my friend said, nudging me aside with zero subtlety so she could shove her hand out. “I know absolutely nothing about hockey,” she continued, batting her eyelashes. “But maybe you could teach me a few things sometime.”
I couldn’t hold back the snort. She was such an obvious flirt. Gabriel shot me a somewhat panicked expression and I grabbed her arm, pulling her back a little. She had been starting to look like she was going to throw herself into his arms right then and there.
“Sorry about her,” I said, but Peyton was still trying to shoulder herself in front of me
“No fair,” she argued. “You already have a hot hockey player. Leave some for the rest of us.”
“Ignore her,” Rosa told him. “We all do.”
The guy looked like he was regretting coming anywhere near us, and I couldn’t blame him. “Girls, this is Gabriel Dalton, the best winger on the team.”
He glanced down, bashful and adorable. “I don’t know about that. We have a lot of new talent this year.”
“Well, if looks have anything to do with hockey success, you’re going to be the highest scorer,” Peyton said, voice thick with innuendo.
“Jesus, Peyton,” I muttered, pushing her to the side. “You were trying to get a beer?” I asked, gesturing at the bucket. “Go right ahead.”
“Uh, thanks,” he said, reaching for a bottle. “It was…nice meeting you ladies.” He gave us all a polite nod and then turned and practically sprinted across the patio.
“Nice going,” Rosa said. “You scared the poor guy to death.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Peyton said, straightening her shoulders and glancing around the patio with glee. “There are so many cute guys here. I’m sure at least one of them won’t be so skittish.”
We grabbed our beers and stepped away to an empty corner of the patio where we had a good view of just about everyone at the party. I hoped that Peyton would be distracted enough by all the prospects to drop the previous line of questioning, but no such luck. She positioned us—on purpose, I was sure—in the perfect place to see Liam and the group he was talking to.
“Okay, girl,” she said, nodding in his direction. “Spill.”
I took in a deep breath. “We’ve been…talking.”
“Talking about how much you want to bang each other?” Peyton asked, rolling her eyes.
I opened my mouth to tell her she was ridiculous but just then Liam glanced in our direction. His gaze immediately locked on mine—at least, I’m pretty sure it did. He was wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t exactly see what he was staring at. But he looked crazy intense even at a distance, and I was fairly sure he wasn’t staring at Peyton or Rosa.
“Wow,” Rosa muttered next to me. “He looks like he wants to devour you.”
