“And I say they are.”
Yep, I’d lost that bet spectacularly.
As I walked alongside the building, debating where to wait for Lyft, the blond hockey player War had rammed into the protective glass strolled out of an exit door marked “Staff and Players Only”. The few girls hanging around darted over and clung to him like extra limbs.
The security guy stationed there simply shook his head and turned away to speak into his walkie-talkie.
I slowed my pace and hung back several feet away, not wanting to be mistaken for one of the adoring fans. The exit door opened again and War stepped out, hooking his massive hockey bag over one shoulder, stick in hand.
The guy was tall, easily around six-four, and muscled. My stupid heart clipped like it was on a fast-track to—to nowhere, dammit! We weren’t even friends, just partners at a wedding now long over. That was all.
His cell beeped. He retrieved the device from his jeans pocket and glanced at it, the waning sunlight highlighting the lighter streaks in his overgrown brown hair and his lean, unshaven jaw.
Before I could call out his name, a whirlwind of flying blonde hair rushed past, leaped onto him, and jammed her lips to his. He stumbled back a step, hockey stick falling as he grabbed her waist. She giggled as he set her down, then she shoved something in his hand.
My fingers tightened around my cell. Hell, I could deal with our bet another time. Why intrude on his hook-up plans for the evening? Ignoring the dip in my belly, I remained where I was, near a parked gray SUV, hoping they’d leave and find some other place to do their canoodling.
Heck, this discomfort was all on me. I knew his rep, and he was true to form.
I really needed to find a new template. Someone a little more like me.
You mean dorky?
Yes, probably safer!I mentally snapped back at my annoying conscience.
So, what if I liked hanging at home, reading, sketching, or watching rom-coms?
It made me happy. I didn’t need a man for that.
Mostly, I no longer trusted my foolish heart. It always made crappy choices.
The sun lowered behind the hills, casting looming shadows. I called for a share ride. My app indicated seven minutes.
“War!” The shrieks deafened me, and I winced, looking up.
Three of the groupies left his friend and scurried after him like he was the best thing to happen since the internet took life. He stood with his back to me, his hands fisted at his sides, one of them probably still clutching the bit of groupie paper like the map to the holy grail.
For him, it undoubtedly was.
Wanting to get away from thisPlayer Showand wait for my ride elsewhere, I stole past him.
