Page 45

While the other women pulled up seats at the far end of the table, a blonde dressed in a black jumpsuit with a low plunging neckline slid out the empty chair next to Cally. “Hi, handsome.”

“Hello,” he said back, his voice flat.

“What’s your name?”

“Hunter,” he answered, voice even flatter.

“Mmm,” she purred. “I like it.” Her eyes raked over his chest, then settled back on his face. “And are you—a hunter, I mean?”

Cally’s brow furrowed. “No. I’m a hockey player.”

I faked a cough to hide my smirk. It fucking killed me how literal he could be sometimes.

A bewildered look briefly crossed her face before it flattened out and a determined smile re-formed on her lips. “Lemme guess. Defense? You’ve got the shoulders for it.”

“No. Wing.”

He took a sip of his water and she waited for him to say more. When it didn’t come, she filled the silence herself, telling him about the work conference she was in town for, where she was from, and who her favorite bands were.

The conversation went on like that for another few minutes. Cally would answer her questions, even sometimes offering up one of his own. He remained polite, but the closer she scooted toward him, the higher his shoulders got until they were nearly up to his ears.

Part of me wanted to point out to her that he clearly wasn’t interested, but Cally was a grown ass man who didn’t need me coming to his rescue.

Besides, I had to piss.

I pushed back from the table and headed for the can, and I’d just bellied up to the urinal when Tyler Banks, Hale’s backup goalie, slotted in beside me.

He pulled out his dick and aimed for the trough. “Callahan’s so fucking awkward. It’s almost painful to watch.”

“He’s all right,” I said, finishing up my business and turning toward the sink.

“You’re his guy, right? What’s his deal? Dude acts like talking to people—us included—physically pains him.”

“He’s shy. Give him a break.”

Banks barked out a laugh, joining me at the sink. “Bro. If I had a tenth of what that guy’s working with, I’d be the most in-your-face son of a bitch you ever met. What’s he got to be shy about?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. Some people are just shy. Cally’s one of ‘em.” I shook the water from my hands and grabbed a paper towel.

“Whatever,” Banks snorted, turning toward the door without washing his hands. “I’m heading upstairs. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I said, tossing the soggy paper into the bin.

When I got back to the table, the blonde was in Cally’s lap, one arm looped around his neck, laughing at something one of her friends had just said.

Cally was smiling, but also … not.

And his face was white. He was a pretty pale dude naturally, but this was like “I’m a vampire who hasn’t seen the sun in two hundred years” white.

My gut tightened with guilt for leaving him to deal with this shit on his own. He might be an adult, but Banks was right. Cally could be awkward as fuck, and he hated talking to people he didn’t know.

“Hey, sorry.” I leaned in, grinning widely. “I hate to do this, but I’m gonna steal Hunter from you. We got a thing with our agent first thing in the morning, and this one turns into a pumpkin if he’s not in bed by eleven.”

I stared down at Cally, silently willing him to pick up what I was putting down. Sometimes he could be a little slow picking up cues. “Come on, man. We gotta go.”

The woman pouted, but eventually slid off his lap. “Boo,” she said with the type of pout some men found charming. “You two are boring.”

“The boringest,” I agreed. “It’s tragic, really. Say goodnight, Cally.”