“She found him on the dance floor at a bar after a game and dry-humped him until he took her home,” Alex explains for me, because he was right next to me when it happened.
“Exactly.” Avery nods like he’s just enlightened me, but he hasn’t. So then he sighs and adds, “When was the last time you heard of an epic romance starting with dry-humping and nudity before phone numbers are exchanged?”
I think about that. Jessie and Jordan, the couple who put this whole committed, meaningful relationship notion in my head, definitely didn’t meet like that. They’d been high school best friends.
“Doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” I argue, because it’s the truth.
Avery chuckles as he turns off his shower and reaches for his towel. “Leave it to your abstinent French ass to do things the hard way.”
“At least I’m doing it at all,” I counter back. The guy hasn’t had a girlfriend in all the years I’ve known him. He’s never taken a girl home that I’ve ever seen, or even kissed one. There are rumors it’s happened once or twice but Westwood’s sex life is like Sasquatch. No one knows for sure if it’s real.
I’m still thinking about Avery’s words when I crawl under the sheets of my hotel bed an hour later. He’s not wrong. The simple, standard way of finding a girlfriend would be to ask friends to set me up or go on dating sites and find people who have been prematched to my wants and needs. But the fact is, with my job, I don’t feel comfortable going on a dating site. I make millions a year and have a face that is fairly recognizable. It isn’t an option. And as for asking friends…well, that just seems so…forced.
I’ve always been a believer in fate. I want the right person to wander into my life organically and unexpectedly. Avery is right. I am looking for that sexy, spontaneous encounter—the kind the best one-night stands are made of—and then I want it to be more. That’s who I am and who I will always be. Someone who likes a challenge, who never takes the easy route and will take passionate and wild over comfortable and calm any day. If that means I crash and burn—a lot—so be it.
Chapter 1
Sebastian
“Who isthat?”
When Avery asked me and a couple of other Winterhawks to attend the grand opening of Elevate Fitness, a gym one of his college buddies owns, I wasn’t super thrilled with the idea. Now as I stare across the crowded, two-story foyer, I’m happy I agreed to come.
Avery shrugs. “No idea. Judging by the fact she’s holding a wine bottle, I’d say either part of the catering team or works here at the gym.”
“Or she’s a hardcore alcoholic who is owning it,” Jordan Garrison adds. I laugh. Avery chuckles. His fiancée, Jessie, smacks him in the chest but she’s smiling.
“She’s gorgeous,” I mutter as I sip my martini. It’s more an observation to myself, but I can’t help but say it aloud as I watch the girl in the clingy emerald dress refill someone’s wineglass.
“You have a girlfriend, Seb,” Jessie reminds me quietly but sternly.
“Not anymore,” I reply as I glance at her. She doesn’t look as surprised as I would expect.
“What happened to Dawn?”
Jordan wraps an arm around his future wife and speaks for me. “Same thing that happened to Andie four months ago and Melissa two months ago. And the same thing that will happen to the woman over there if he has his way.”
“Whoa now,” I say, and I’m a little offended. “I wanted it to work. Ialwayswant it to work.”
“Uh-huh,” Jordan says, but it’s dripping in sarcasm.
“Not all of us find true love at eighteen,” I remind him. “But you can bet when I do, I won’t screw it up.”
“Ouch.” Jordan clutches his chest like he’s wounded, but he knows I’m right. He and Jessie spent years not speaking before they finally reconciled last year. I glance back at the beauty in the emerald dress. She’s talking with the owner, Trey Beckford. It’s quite the fancy event for a gym. Open bar, the best caterer in Seattle and everyone is dressed up.
“You should ask Trey who she is,” I advise Avery, the reason we’re all at this event. Trey and Avery played in college together but Trey dropped out—of school and hockey—his junior year while Avery left for the NHL.
“What do I look like to you? eHarmony?” he replies and rolls his eyes. Avery has always been a little on the intense side, but lately he’s been even more uptight than normal.
“You owe me for making me put on a suit for this thing,” I counter and adjust the knot on my tie, as if to prove my point.
“You wear suits to games all the time,” he argues and rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, and that’s enough time in them. I should be at home in sweats right now.” I sigh, which is dramatic, even for me. “I wish we hadn’t traded Alex. He was such a great wingman.”
Avery looks over at Emerald Dress. “Why don’t you try introducing yourself and asking for her number. I know that’s not usually your way, but it works for the rest of mankind.”
“What’s Seb’s way?” Jessie asks.
