“Hey, hey.” He gave my arm a gentle rub. “It’s okay. I’m sorry if I came off as critical. Just being a smug dick because everything’s going so well for me.”
“You’re such a smug dick.”
He leaned back, arms behind his head, lord of all he surveyed. “And I own it. Anything you need, Lo, just ask.”
“Thanks, friend. I’m handling it, but I’ll definitely read you in if I need to.”
He smiled, but not directly at me. “There he is!”
I looked up … into the pale blue eyes of the last person I wanted to see right now.
My secret husband.
Chapter Six
Alexei
* * *
Had I come here to wish my old friend well and congratulate him on all his achievements? Of course.
Did I relish the bonus of seeing Lauren seething in anger at the sight of me impinging on her turf? Absolutely.
Jason stood and reached to pull me into a hug. “Naz! You made it!”
“I would not miss it for the world.” I winked over his shoulder at Lauren, who narrowed her eyes to slits and tried to send a laser beam of death at my head. “Even though I have seen the Cup several times before in my teammates’ backyards. Mine, too.”
“Here we go,” Jason grumbled.
“Perhaps you should introduce me to the true prize. Isn’t there a wife and a baby to be fussed over?”
Jason grinned. “Not a wife yet, but that’ll happen. Wait ’til you see little Cammi. She’s fucking gorgeous. Franky took her inside to feed her, so hold up here and I’ll get you a?—”
“Baby?”
“I was gonna say ‘beer,’ but I can do both. Multi-talented.”
He sounded a little tipsy which was perfectly his right. The man had scored the jackpot, and I looked forward to meeting his snail-loving baby mama.
“You hang here with Lo—hey, Lo, look who it is. Our old pal, Nazarov.”
Lauren’s lips parted in a smile that did nothing to warm those silver eyes. “So I see. Alexei.”
“Hello, Lauren.”
She glared at me but shifted her expression to something more neutral while Jason watched.
“Let me tell you where to find the best Chicago pizza.” She held up a hand to Jason. “Your opinion isn’t valid here, Isner. We all know you think deep dish is overrated. Off you skedaddle to perform your hostly duties.”
He saluted us both and headed off while I took a moment to take her in: today she wore her hair in a ponytail which made her look younger, or maybe it was the vintage Chicago Athenas tee—her old team—and the high-cut shorts that showcased a smooth expanse of golden thigh. My fingers twitched, and I longed for that beer to occupy them.
I gestured at the seat Jason had just vacated. “May I?”
“If you must.”
Oh, I must. “How are you?”
“How do you think I am?”
