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“That’s really sweet of you,” I say to him and his gaze locks with mine. There is a flood of emotion behind his gaze and a ton of heat. It sends my pulse into a frantic rhythm, and I fantasize about pulling Evan into one of the small rooms off this large hallway and having my way with him. I blink, hoping to restore my sanity.
“There you guys are,” Kevin states, blowing out a breath.
“What’s up?” I ask my brother.
“That bridal party is very handsy. They know exactly who I am. One of them just offered me sex.” He cringes, and I wince.
“Shit,” Evan curses. “Hope your cousin knows what he’s getting himself into. I would never want to date a girl who wants me because of what I do.”
“Tell me about it, bro,” Kevin agrees. “Gets to a point you just get sick of all the attention.”
“Aw! Kevin, look at you getting all mature,” I joke with my brother.
“Funny,” he deadpans.
Evan laughs.
“Ima go say hi to some of Dad’s old buddies. Catch you two later.” He winks and as he walks off, he checks behind him.
“Were you ever into the puck bunnies?” I ask Evan.
“In college I was, maybe when I first started in the NHL, but I got sick of that lifestyle,” he confesses.
Uncle Oli walks up to us. “Have you seen Shorty?”
“She walked by about five minutes ago,” I reply to my uncle, who calls Aunt Sloane Shorty.
“Thanks, sweetie. You look beautiful and nice to see you again, Evan,” Uncle Oli says. He shakes Evan’s hand and then walks off.
“I’m scared to ask why he calls his wife Shorty,” Evan chortles.
“I don’t know if I should be giving away all the family secrets,” I joke. A server passes us with some champagne, and I offer one to Evan, who accepts, and then take a flute for myself.
Evan cocks a brow.
“It’s his nickname for her because of how they met. Mom and Sloane were best friends, and Mom was living with Oli in New York. Oli is obviously a big guy and Aunt Sloane is really tiny. Apparently, he came home one night inebriated and almost crushed her because he didn’t notice her sleeping on the couch. She calls him her Giant and she’s his Shorty.”
“That’s sweet,” Evan says. “You must have some really interesting stories growing up with two hockey legends in the family.”
“Oh, we do. My dad was best friends with Oli. He fell for Mom and Oli didn’t know. It was a whole big thing. They grew up living next door to each other,” I explain.
“And does your dad have a nickname for your mom?” he asks.
“All this talk of my family must be boring the heck out of you.”
“It’s nice,” Evan replies. “I didn’t have any of this growing up. It may seem like chaos to you, but I see a lot of love.”
“He calls her Tink,” I share.
“As in Tinkerbelle fromPeter Pan?” he asks.
“Exactly. They played all kinds ofPeter Pangames when they were younger in the forest by where they lived. Dad is her Peter Pan.”
Evan’s gaze once again locks with mine and it’s searing. I press my thighs together.
“I keep thinking about last night,” he says, lowering his voice.
My mouth waters at the thought.
