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“Will you also be working on my launch plan?” he asks as the elevator doors open and the three of us step on. The attendant reaches in and presses the button for us as Ashley just giggles again at his question.

“No,” I say. “She’s actually another strategist’s assistant, so she has her own projects separate from Everleigh’s and mine.”

We ride the elevator up toward the club that’s on the rooftop, and Ashley just stares at Cash the entire time. I’m trying to come up with something clever to say, but it hasn’t hit me yet.

“I’m here with some friends, too. You know West Sellers and Kellan Halstead?” he asks.

I laugh. “No, I don’t.”

He tilts his head and squints his eyes at me as if he’s trying to figure me out, and meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Ashley is starting to hyperventilate.

“You don’t know West Sellers and Kellan Halstead?” Ashley finally cries.

My eyes widen and I wince a little. “No. Am I supposed to? Oh, wait, are they hockey players?”

“Only, like, two of the best wingers in the entire league!” she practically screams at me.

Okay, yes, the music is starting to get a little louder as we approach the rooftop, but her volume is still a bit excessive.

I glance at Cash. “Winger?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Forward. Like…okay, sort of compares to a wide receiver on a really basic level. Plays on the outside, needs speed, tries to score.”

“And you do that?” I ask. I’m pretty sure his Instagram said something else.

He shakes his head. “I’m a center. It sort of would compare most closely to a quarterback. I set up plays, take shots, play defense. I try to be everywhere all at once.” He shrugs, and it comes off as more modest than he usually is.

“How do you not know this?” Ashley asks. She seems literally horrified that I don’t know a damn thing about hockey.

I shrug. “I grew up in a football family. We never watched hockey. Always football, sometimes baseball when Archer got serious about it.”

“It’s kind of like soccer but on ice,” Ashley says. “Didn’t you ever play soccer?”

I shake my head. “I was in volleyball. I did some dance, too.” I shrug as Cash’s eyes flick down my body at the dance comment.

The elevator doors open, and the music is so loud that I can feel it in my bones. Cash leans in toward me—close enough that I can smell him. God, he smells good. “It’s not at all like soccer on ice.”

I giggle, and we’re met with the heat of Vegas air on a rooftop in July as we exit the air-conditioned elevator. We head toward a table where two attractive men are already standing. By the way Ashley is actually hyperventilating now, I take it these are the wingmen. Wingers? What did he call them?

Anyway…

There’s a bottle of some kind of alcohol already on the table. I have no idea what it is. If it’s good, bad, expensive, whatever. My preference falls toward vodka that doesn’t taste too much like vodka.

“What do you like to drink?” he asks, leaning in toward me.

A vodka Sprite with three cherries and a splash of grenadine sounds…childish.

“I don’t drink much,” I admit. “What’s good?”

“Hi, I’m West.” A voice interrupts us. He steps in between us so he’s closer to me than Cash is. “I heard you’re one of the Bradley siblings.”

“I am,” I say, and I shoot him a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve played golf with your brother-in-law a few times.”

“Maverick?” I guess, and he nods.

“Good guy,” he says.