An hour later, the six of us walk with borrowed confidence into a refurbished industrial building’s grand ballroom. It’s outfitted with Gothic horror elements of dripping candles, bats suspended in mid-flight, swathes of gauzy dark fabrics, and skulls as centerpieces on surrounding tables. The mood lighting is low, and a warm amber color bathes the space, thrown from the robust chandeliers on the ceiling. The overall impact is equal parts inviting and creepy, the perfect mood for a Halloween celebration.
And I feel perfectly out of place in this fitted dress and too-tight shoes.Seriously, how do people wear these toe-murdering, back-killing, balance-threatening foot prisons? My ass is going to be so sore tomorrow.Charlie shifts his weight from side to side, a grimace on his face as we both look to our feet. I manage a small laugh at my friend’s silent agreement.We’ve garnered a lot of attention from our teammates and front-office staff, but there’s one person I haven’t seen yet, and I try to be subtle in my search for her.
As if my thoughts manifest her, Bea and Violet cut through the crowd, making their way toward us. Obie, Gus, and Crosby aren’t trailing too far behind, but all my focus is on Bea in a skin-tight, army-green jumpsuit. It’s painted to her every curve, with her hips swaying in time to the easy way she navigates walking in knee-high black stiletto boots. There are patches and insignia on her chest and biceps, a shiny pair of aviators perched in her curls. They’re more tamed than usual, the spirals more uniform and bouncy in organized disarray atop her head. Her eyes are outlined with black, and sharp points in the corners give her a dangerously playful sexiness. Her lips are dripping crimson, the gloss catching the light, pulling my attention away from the patch above her left breast that proclaimed her “GOOSE” in bold letters.
“I should have known Gus would come up with something equal parts outlandish and amazing to ensure a win,” she says as she comes to a stop in front of me, eyes sweeping from my head to my toes. My blood warms, rushing south, and I’m suddenly glad for the cup at the front of these briefs. It grows tight as my cock gives a very interested twitch, but I think it will stay concealed until I can get my body under control.
“Did he even shave his legs? That’s some serious commitment.” Bea flashes a smirk over her shoulder to my teammate. He hasn’t heard her, but he sees her looking and gives a big smile in return. Violet, in the matching “MAVERICK” ensemble, steps past her wingman to give Charlie a hug, whispering words of greeting and encouragement.
“We might have some competition now,” I finally manage to reply, gesturing to the fighter pilot getup. “Ty vyglyadish ochen opasno v etom, solnyshka.”
It’s the flirtiest thing I’ve said to her. A slip in my usual friendly and professional demeanor. Sure, I said it in Russian, and she doesn’t knowexactlywhat I said, but I’m glad I’ve taken the chance. She does look lethal in that outfit.
Bea steps toward me, the familiar sweet orange of her citrus scent catching in the air between us. I follow it closer to her, chasing the intoxicating scent that matches the spellbinding woman who wears it. The sweet and zesty elements combine with hints of sunshine—just how I think of her.
“You do look like a princess. With fantastic legs,” she says in a low voice, a wicked smile spreading as I realize the slit in my skirt has split. I’m caught off guard and can’t catch the laugh that rumbles up my chest. Bea looks equally surprised, but her face lights up at the sound. Brow raised and mouth slightly open in shock. It isn’t the first time I’ve laughed in front of her, but it still seems to fascinate her. She giggles, the throaty sound spreadingthrough me, emboldening me to swish the material of my dress for effect. Bea whistles low, her eyebrows wiggling teasingly.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Gus waves his arms between us, forcing Bea and me apart. I curb the desire to knock him out of the way for bursting the bubble we were in. Instead, I push back the thoughts I have of finally being able to whisper in her ear that she’s the most beautiful person in the room. But I don’t miss the annoyance and disappointment on Bea’s face, perfectly mirroring the way I feel, when she promptly shoves Gus back a few steps. Undeterred, Gus continues, “This is too friendly. C’mon, Nicky boy, we’ve got a show to put on.”
My stomach sinks at the reminder we have tosellthis costume in our bid to win the contest. Bea lifts a sculpted brow at me in question. I shrug, trying my best to appear unbothered at the prospect of pulling off this routine in front of every single person I work with. My only respite is the lack of Andy and the crew. Then Bea lifts her phone.
“Ready for your close-up, Nikita?”
I love it when she uses my full name.She’s the only one who really does. While I have a nickname for her, I almost feel like this is hers for me.
“If I ask you not to submit this to the series, would you keep it to yourself?” I plead, already knowing the answer.
“Not a chance.” Bea smiles.
CHAPTER 7
BEA
“You’re going to have to explain ‘icing’ to me again.” I cross my arms over my chest in frustration. At the other end of the couch, Violet laughs without reservation. I reach a leg out and push my foot against her. “I’m sorry, how many times did you ask me about offside when you worked for the football club? Can you explain it to me now?”
“Nobodyunderstands the offside rule in soccer!” Violet catches my attempt to shove her again, squeezing my toes. I withdraw my leg, tucking it underneath me when she turns her attention to the television screen in her living room. The Midnight are playing in Milwaukee, the game is at intermission between the second and third period. The commentators are breaking down the icing call against the Steel Riders just before the end of the period. They keep on as Violet explains things to me one more time. “Jordan Boucher sent the puck long—meaning down the ice toward Nicky—from behind the center red line on Milwaukee’s side of the ice. Since no one touched it before it went over the goal line, it’s an icing call. Make sense?”
“It does,” I acknowledge, reaching for the bottle of beer on the side table before taking a swallow. “I’m probably going to ask again, but thank you for being so patient with me.”
“You’re welcome.” Violet shifts, leaning her back against the arm of the couch to face me. “But it’s almost like you spend your days with someone whoplaysthis sport for a living who could explain it to you.” I pointedly take another drink and ignore the way my best friend’s head cocks to the side in my peripheral vision. “Speaking of that brooding man,” she leads with all the subtlety of a fire alarm. “You and Nicky sure seem close. I thought his false lashes were going to pop off with how big his eyes got when he saw you at the Halloween party.”
“It was just the spandex. Made both of us look good,” I deflect when she brings up that night from two weeks ago. Even dressed in a beauty pageant gown and full glam, I spent the evening marveling at how sexy Nikita Baladin is. The ease and confidence he carried throughout the evening, and the carefree way he danced a choreographed routine that earned the guys the “Best Costume” award. I even caught him looking at me a few times; pupils widening as he raked his gaze up and down my body, or how they narrowed when he stared at my lips. It lit me on fire from the inside out, making the following Monday much more challenging when I had to watch him lift weights with the film crew for an hour, my thoughts wandering inappropriately every time he grunted and pushed through a leg press.What else could he press with those powerful thighs?I drain the remainder of my beer then, as if I can cool the memories before I tip the bottle at her. “This is shit. I really should just give up finding a beer I like here.”
“Now you know how I felt.” She laughs, and I join in. I spent years trying to find a local British beer that Violet liked when we lived together, only to come up empty. Now, it seems the roles are reversed. I’ve been here for the better part of a year, andstill no luck finding anything that hits as well as the breweries in England. Letting the reminder slip along with our fading laughter, Violet pins me with a more serious look. “Okay, but Nicky. Is it just a flirty attraction you’re still denying, or…?”
She leaves the thought floating, and I consider her words. The implication. I let out a sigh, making the decision to confess the feelings that have been steadily taking up residence in my mind.
“At the team facility or the arena, I can keep things professional,” I begin, inspecting my leggings for invisible fluff. “Nicky is completely focused on his job, and that helps me stay locked in on mine. Even when he’s struggled with the interview portions, I feel more like another coach.”
“But?” Violet prompts. There’s a simple hopefulness in her question, and it matches how I feel thinking about the man I spend most of my days with.
“But Iwanthim,” I admit, the confession lifting a weight from my chest. Then I shoot a glare at my best friend when she lets out the tiniest squeak of excitement. “Piss off!”
“Absolutely not!” Violet flattens a poofy pillow between us and rearranges herself to lean over it, invading my space with a dreamy look on her face. “It isn’t just wanting him. Youlikehim, don’t you?”
“Of course I like him!” I counter. “Have you met the man? He has the work ethic of an ox, the loyalty of a Labrador, and the gentleness of a sloth.”
“Please stop comparing him to animals. It’s weird.” Her face scrunches, and I let out a huff. My descriptions are accurate, but I concede, they’re too much. Violet props her chin on her hand and smiles. “Nicky is a good man—agreatman. Someone who’s worthy of you, for sure.”
