october
CHAPTER ONE
arden
“Problem here?”
I whirl around to where a big, familiar body steps in behind me. He’s close, far too close to be a stranger. But he’s not a stranger, is he? Not really. Not to anyone in this bar. Not to me.
Unfortunately.
Yeah, I know that face. I’ve had drinks with that face. I’ve humiliated myself in front of that face.
Carter Forkerro’s hand slides to my hip, glancing at the man in front of me, who is still holding his wet sleeve out between us like I’ve committed the ultimate sin and he’s holding the evidence. The man’s brow furrows for a moment, but then his eyes widen, and I know we have a Pittsburgh hockey fan in our midst.
“Forkerro?”
The star defenseman of the Pittsburgh hockey team. One half of the legendary Dangerous Duo. World famous. Locally adored.
Carter hardly reacts. His blue eyes flicker to my face, andsince I’m sure it looks like I just sucked on a lemon, it’s pretty apparent this man and I are not getting along.
“I’ll ask again. Is there a problem here?”
The man blinks, realization hitting him. “Shit. No. I didn’t know she was your—fuck. It’s all good.”
Carter’s thumb brushes my hip, a touch I would normally swing on a stranger for if I weren’t so desperate to get out of this situation. There is a look in his eye when his fingers give my skin a gentle squeeze—a request for me to trust him.
His brows raise, gaze flickering to the man for a millisecond. “I was asking her.”
“This gentleman is just angry that I bumped into him while I was on my phone,” I explain, forcing a tight smile. Why not? I like seeing this little worm sweat. “I apologized. Twice. I even offered to buy him another drink. He’s still mad about his suit.”
Carter presses his lips together, nodding. He straightens, and I don’t think me or my new friend misses the way he examines that precious suit from head to toe. It’s a couple hundred dollars, max. And yes, I understand the value of money. I have none of it. But it was vodka water that spilled—colourless. There will be no damage done apart from some weird sting to his pride.
Tonight is one of the very rare nights I’mnotnursing a glass of red wine, so he should consider himself lucky.
“Would you like me to…buy you another suit?” Carter asks, the judgement in his tone clear.
My eyes quickly avert back to the stranger whose neck flushes pink with embarrassment.
“Uh…no?”
Carter’s eyes dart to my drink.
“What’d you spill, sweetheart?” he asks. I nearly choke at the pet name.Ew. “Merlot? Shiraz?”
I feel the grin tugging on my lips as I angle my head. “A vodka water.”
Carter’s brows skyrocket as he whirls toward the man, who is sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re crying about vodkawater?”
“I just?—”
“You justwhat?” he asks. Carter is looking at this man like he’s a pathetic child and I just know it’s killing the little fanboy inside him. “Is this your attempt at flirting with a woman who is ridiculously out of your league? Crying about a bit of water? Making a lady feel bad for walking inyoursacred space?Youshould have moved forher.”
The man’s shoulders deflate. His head lowers, embarrassed and angry with himself. If Carter wasn’t Carter, I’m sure this would be an entirely different conversation. But heisCarter, and this man clearly idolizes him. That cosmic justice is just too satisfying to ignore.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, peering up at the big, hulking hockey player at my back.
Carter stares at him, chewing that minty gum I can smell from here, arm still wound around my waist. He blinks slowly, his brow furrowing with every passing second. Whatever he’s considering, it doesn’t seem like it will be pleasant for his number one fan.
