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CHAPTER17
JULIETTE
The bar is packed to the gills when we arrive. The mountain of muscle acting as a bouncer takes one look at Ryder and waves him through the back door without bothering to glance my way. One step over the threshold and the loud music and boisterous voices hit me.
It’s standing room only.
After every game, the team heads over to Slap Shotz, a sports bar slash dive joint that caters to the Western Wildcats hockey team. I think the owner is an old player who apparently didn’t want to stop reliving his glory days. So, there are team photos dating back to the eighties dotting the walls along with sticks, jerseys, framed photos, and signed pucks.
I’ve been here a time or two.
All I have to say is that it’s not really my scene.
The music is cranked up way too loud and there are too many people crammed into a small space, making it feel borderline claustrophobic.
Not to mention, the floor beneath my shoes is sticky.
“Hey, Ryder,” a pretty blonde in a skimpy shirt calls out with a wave and toothy smile.
She’s exactly the kind of girl I’d expect Ryder to hook up with. I couldn’t be more—
Whoa.
I stop those thoughts in their proverbial tracks. It doesn’t matter what kind of girls Ryder normally takes home at the end of the night. All he’s doing is helping me tick off items on my bucket list. I need to keep that in mind and not pretend this is an actual relationship.
Ryder’s hand settles on my lower back as he steers me through the sea of people. More than half are decked out in team colors along with licensed shirts or jerseys. That’s when I notice how many have Ryder’s name and number proudly stamped across the front and back.
He presses closer before asking, “Want something to drink?”
A reluctant shiver dances down my spine as his warm breath feathers across my flesh.
Unable to help myself, I glance over my shoulder and meet his gaze. Even though there are fans trying to get his attention, the intensity of it is solely focused on me. Once his eyes capture mine, it feels like I’m ensnared in a trap.
I shake my head as air gets wedged in my throat, making it impossible to catch my breath. “Not after last weekend.”
His lips quirk around the edges. “One or two won’t get you shitfaced. More than that? Probably.” His gaze slides down my body before rising to my face. “You’re a lightweight.”
Even though I told myself I was never going to drink again, a thick knot of anxiety has taken up residence at the bottom of my belly. Maybe just one beer would take the edge off and help me relax. Although, if Ryder would tell me what his plans are for the evening, that would go a long way to settle my nerves.
“Okay,” I relent. “Just one.”
His white teeth flash in the dim lighting of the bar. “All right, stay right here. I’ll grab us something and be back in a sec.”
I give him a nod and he takes off, plowing his way through the throng. Honestly, shoving isn’t required. People scurry out of his way. Ryder probably towers a couple inches over six feet. On the ice, he’s even taller and broader with the skates and padding. He’s always been a force to be reckoned with.
That thought has my mind tumbling back to the game.
I’ve watched Ryder play hockey since he was a mini mite, and he’s not playing with the same level of confidence. I know their old coach left abruptly at the beginning of the year and a new one has taken his place. But as tempting as it is to ask him about it, there’s no way I’d bring it up. It’s not like we’re close and talk about our personal stuff.
I only realized it was an issue when I overheard Mom and Dad discussing the situation. Dad owns a sports agency that represents professional athletes. There are a lot of hockey players since he played in the NHL for more than a decade before retiring and taking over my grandfather’s management company. Mom also works for the family business. I assume Maverick will end up doing the same. Mav entered the NHL draft last year and was picked up by Boston. Just like Ryder, Dad thought it would be best for him to play this season before signing his contract with them.
My gaze stays locked on Ryder as a female bartender catches sight of him and beelines in his direction. Even from here, I can see the cleavage baring shirt she wears with the name of the establishment stamped across her breasts. She grabs two brown bottles before setting them on the long stretch of bar and leaning against it so that Ryder has an unobstructed view of the goods.
They chat for a minute or so before he shoves away from the counter and swings back toward me. The woman stares after him with a besotted look on her face before turning to the next customer.
I almost shake my head.
I’ve attended elementary, middle, high school, and now college with Ryder. I’ve watched this exact scene play out with hundreds of different girls.
