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And I’d lost mine.
No, that wasn’t true. Aurora wouldn’t abandon me. She was good and kind and genuine. She wasn’t the type of girl to drop her friends for a guy.
It didn’t stop me from keeping myself busy, though—stealing glances at her and the girls as I found ways to fill my time. They tried to call me over to pull me into their conversation. But I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t—
“Harper?”
I whirled around and came face-to-face with Aurora. “Hey,” I stumbled over my surprise. “What’s up?”
“Is everything okay? We’ve been here almost an hour, and you’ve barely had time to talk to us.”
“We’re short-staffed,” I said. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s fine. Maybe we should go and let you focus. I thought it would be a nice surprise.” She looked away, crestfallen, and I felt like an awful person.
“No, don’t go. It’s me. I’m sorry. It’s been the shift from hell.”
“You should have said… we didn’t have to—”
“Rory?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you came.”
Her concern melted into a big smile. “You could always come with us, I’m sure—”
Just then, the door to the bar swung open, and a big group of guys ambled into the bar, and Aurora let out a little squeak.
“Rory, baby.” Connor slung his arm over her shoulder. “Dixon.” He winked at me.
“Hey, Connor,” I chuckled because the guy was a big goofball who you couldn’t help but warm to.
“I thought we were meeting you there,” Aurora said.
“Change of plan. TPB was a little overcrowded if you catch my drift. So we thought we’d hang here instead.”
“H-here?” I choked out. The hockey team didn’t hang out at Millers’ Bar and Grill. Not en masse, anyway.
“Dixie,” Chad bellowed, and Connor grinned.
“Dixie?”
“Don’t ask,” I murmured, hoping he’d drop it. “I’d better go and see what he wants.” Hurrying over to the service hatch, I asked, “What?”
“Tell me I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing.” Dollar signs danced across his eyes. “Did Connor Morgan and half of the Lakers hockey team just walk into my bar?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed that Connor had, in fact, brought some of the guys with him. Aiden Dumfries. Noah Holden. A couple of the rookie players. And…him.
Mason Steele.
My stomach dipped at the sight of the Lakers’ arrogant, smug left-winger.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Dixie,” Chad added, and I gawked at him.
“What?”
