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“Jerseys are nothing compared to dress pants on these guys,” Wren whispered.
“Ladies.” Kyle Bosco slung an arm over Jana’s shoulder, his silver button-down almost clashing with her gold dress. “Dragon said you were coming.” He pecked Jana’s cheek, then Wren’s. Then he took a step back and tipped his chin at me. “You all look stunning, as always.”
“Damn, bebé,” Emerson called, heading our way. His attention was 100 percent homed in on Wren. His green eyes popped against his black-on-black suit. “You and the red.” He splayed a hand over his heart. “Gonna kill a man.”
“That’s the idea.” She laughed.
“Drinks?” Kyle nodded and herded my friends closer to the bar.
I took two steps away, moving farther into the somewhat crowded space, but I didn’t see Chris. Every guy in here was bigger than the next, and though I was in heels, it was hard to see around them.
The younger Langfield brothers, Brooks and Aiden, sat in a corner booth with glasses of what looked like whiskey on the table in front of them. Brooks was wearing a frown and staring at something on the far side of the room.
I followed his line of sight, only to discover a blond tucked into a corner with Chris. Before I could get it under control, my heart lurched in my chest. They were both angled in and deep in conversation. After a moment where my body seemed to deflate, I realized I was watching them like Brooks had been, and I was probably wearing a similar expression, so I forced myself to look away.
Chris’s friend Mason caught my eye and tipped his glass my way, but a heartbeat later, he turned his attention back to the brunette standing in front of him.
I stood where I was, feeling awkward and unsure of where to go. I didn’t know the hockey guys, and my friends were already deep in conversation with Kyle and Emerson at the bar, no doubt assuming Chris had already appeared to keep me company.
Wringing my hands, I shifted on my black heels and forced myself not to look at Chris and the blond again.
“I’mabootto tell you something no one should ever see.” The voice that broke through my mildly panicked thoughts was deep and tinted with a mild Canadian accent.
Pressing my lips together, I turned toward it. I had to tip my head back to make eye contact with Tyler “War” Warren, the biggest right winger in the NHL. He was also the fiercest and most popular with the females of North America.
“What?” I frowned at him.
War’s dark hair and blue eyes were a striking contrast to his white button down. “A beautiful woman standing by herself without a drink.” He hit me with a wolfish smile. “How about we fix that situation?” He pressed one huge hand to my lower back and applied light pressure.
I allowed him to guide me to the bar, torn between thrilled and disappointed when his hulking frame completely blocked my view of Chris and the blond.
He rested his tattoo-covered forearms on the wooden bar top and lowered his head. “What would you like?”
With those four simple words, I was smacked in the face with memory after memory of the turmoil and uncertainty that came along with the dating game I’d walked away from so many months ago. The pit that had always formed in my stomach as I tried to ascertain what the person I was chatting with was looking for. Whether there was a spark of chemistry or hints of compatibility.
I pushed the doubt aside. Tonight wasn’t about impressing a man or acting in a way that was expected of me. Most of the women here were probably drinking wine or champagne. A quick scan of the room proved that to be true. But I was determined to continue being true to myself. I was done with trying to force myself into the mold of what a good-looking man might want.
“Light beer?”
War gave me a nod, then turned to flag down the bartender. While he waited, he roughed a hand along his smooth jaw and surveyed the other people nearby. While he was focused on them, I studied him. Objectively, he was good-looking, and his accent was hot. But there wasn’t a single spark of attraction between us.
“Can I get a Coors Light and Tanqueray and tonic?”
When the bartender set our drinks in front of him, he slid the bottle of beer to me and dropped one elbow to the bar.
“It’s rare to see a woman here by herself.” He cocked a dark brow.
That was probably true, since this place was invite-only. I shrugged and pointed to Jana and Wren. “A friend invited a few of us.”
War leaned back and regarded my friends. As he shifted, I got another glimpse of Chris. When the woman grasped his arm. I avertedmy gaze and picked at the silver label on my bottle. My chest burned, and so did my eyes, but I blinked back the sensation. The warnings I’d been given about maintaining a friendship with a man I’d slept with raced through my head. For months, my friends had claimed that jealousy would get one of us eventually. It hadn’t been an issue before. I had to stop making it one now.
“He seems busy, though, so I don’t think I’ll stay long.” That was probably the best solution. As long as I didn’t have to watch him flirt with someone else, it would be fine.
War took a sip of his drink, eyeing me the whole time, then set it next to mine. “Why go?”
“As much as my friends love hanging out with all of you guys and that excitement.” I waved a hand around. “I’m taking some time off from this kind of thing.”
“Hmm.” He lifted his chin, all confidence, like he had my number. “Because you like playing hard to get?”
