He leans in and gives me a peck on the cheek before going over to the group of fans that has assembled to meet him. I twist my lips in thought. I don’t know how much fun I’m going to have tonight, outside of spending some time with Mom and Dad. Idon’t really know anyone here. Most of the audience is split into two factions: employees/players and Miami Manatees fans.
Two factions I don’t interact with socially.
Actually, that’s part of my problem here. I’ve left the warm, cozy cocoon of a small college in Connecticut for Miami Beach, and discovered it’s much harder to make friends as an adult. People aren’t looking for friends like they do on a college campus. In this world, people are established. Have jobs and lives and things to do.
And I desperately miss having a group of girlfriends to share my life with.
But that’s a thought for another day. I go back to perusing the auction items. I wander down the rows, finally making my way around to the last table. It’s next to the windows that overlook the dealership parking lot, and I take a moment to glance at all the Collings Motors luxury vehicles and sports cars, some of the most expensive made on the planet.
It’s amazing how much money is on this lot. Or even in this room.
Last year, they set a record for the amount of money made on Casino Night, and they hope to beat it this year—and I hope they do, because the organization does great work for people in the Miami community.
I study the items in front of me. Oh, this is different. The card at the table says, “These are a Few of My Favorite Things,” and it looks like each auction item is a grouping of things a Miami Manatees player has selected.
The first one is from fan favorite Brayden Morrow. There’s a round of golf at some Miami-area country club. Dinner at a high-end steakhouse. Nothing extremely interesting or exciting—at least to me. I was hoping the baskets would be an insight into the lives the players lead off the ice.
Or at least more interesting than learning he golfs and likes steak.
I wander aimlessly down the row, looking over the gift baskets, and finally find one that’s intriguing. It belongs to Aiden Wentworth, the alternate captain. I pause at the table, studying his basket, and he immediately has my attention.
Because the first thing I spot in the basket is a gift certificate for a doggie day spa.
I smile. I’m a huge animal lover—my heart is with my chinchillas at home—and for him to put a doggie-spa gift certificate in his basket tells me he loves his dog. Or dogs. I have no idea how many Aiden has.
To be honest, I don’t know a whole lot about the players off the ice. My dad took over as coach last year while I was finishing up college in Connecticut. I came home after graduation, temporarily moving in with my parents—since, hello, couldn’t find a job in sports media to save my life—but I only followed how the team did on the ice. All of the holiday parties and events last year were held before I came home from break, so this is the first time I’ll actually be meeting any players.
I go back to studying Aiden’s basket. In addition to the gift certificate, there’s a leash and a can of tennis balls—very cute. Ooh! He must have a sweet tooth, because there’s a box of exquisite-looking chocolates from a high-end Miami Beach chocolatier. I pick up the box, studying it. The truffles include decadent flavors like dark-chocolate passion fruit and salted espresso. I put the truffles back and continue digging through the basket. I find a box of coffee capsules, along with a Miami Manatees tumbler. Okay. So Aiden is not only a coffee drinker, but goes for the classic Café Bustelo.
His is by far the most interesting basket I’ve encountered so far.
I smile. Aiden understood the assignment. And there’s more stuff in here. I’m about to pick up the next item, but suddenly, someone opens the side door that leads outside to the dealership lot. As a valet dashes inside, a huge gust of wind comes up through the open door.
My dress begins to fly up, so I quickly put a hand on it to clamp it in place. But then both my long hair and the feathers from the top of my dress fly upward, getting trapped in the stupid pearl goo I have on my cheeks.
And itsticks.
“Ack!” I cry, trying to spit out the feathers now tickling my nose and mouth. I start flapping my hands in front of my face, attempting to dislodge them naturally, but it doesn’t work. In fact, I begin to sneeze, and they still remain in place. Now there’s a black feather stabbing the inside of my nose! I can’t see through them or the hair stuck all over my face, and I’m going to have to pluck myself right on the casino floor so I can even find a path forward to go to the ladies’ room.
Horror fills me.
I legit look like a black swan.
I feel a feather poking into my lipstick, and oh, is that smeared all over my face, too?
As I reach up to try and pull my hair off my cheeks, I hear someone clear their throat behind me. “Miss? Do you need some help?”
Please let the floor swallow me up. Please.
I slowly turn around, prying off a piece of hair—makeup be damned—so I can see with one eye who has been brave enough to walk up to a woman with black feathers plastering her face.
And staring down at me with curious gray eyes is none other than Aiden Wentworth himself.
Chapter Two
GAH, why am I staring up at the face of Aiden Wentworth? Couldn’t the voice belong to a valet? A server? An employee of Collings Motors that I’d never have to see again?
“Erm,” I say, trying to carefully unstick the hair from my face in the most nonchalant way ever, “I am the victim of two things. A gust of wind from that side door and some cosmetics with some incredible tackiness.”
