Page 44 of Bombshells
Then I see when it happens—he notices me. His eyes widen, just like I’d hoped they would. “Sylvie. Wow. You look…” He seems unable to finish that sentence.
Someone else finishes it for him. “Smashing,” a sultry male voice says. It’s Anton Bayer. “Who invited three goddesses to the party?”
“Oh, you’re a smooth one,” Charli grumbles, although her smile says she’s pleased by the compliment. “And I hate myself a little for noticing how well a hockey player can rock a tux.”
“Which hockey player?” Anton teases.
“Oh, I meant it in a general sense.” She rolls her eyes.
Bryce finally seems to shake off his stupor. “You look beautiful tonight, Sylvie. Can I make a trip to the bar for you ladies?”
“Absolutely.” I step forward into his personal space and place a hand on Bryce’s chest. His eyes widen again. “Do you think they’d make me a whiskey sour?”
“I’ll check,” he says immediately. Then he takes a half step backward.
Okay, this is excellent. I’ve rattled him. Fiona is obviously a genius.
“Anyone else?” he asks. “Fiona? Charli?”
“I’d love a glass of red wine,” Fiona says. “Thank you.”
“A beer would be great,” Charli says. “Ale, if there’s a choice.”
“Coming right up.” But before he turns away, he locks eyes with me, giving me a strange, curious glance. After a quick head shake, he heads for the bar.
“Interesting,” Fiona whispers under her breath.
“Let’s see what’s up for grabs in the silent auction,” Anton suggests, herding me and my friends toward the displays lining one brick wall.
“There won’t be anything reasonable to buy,” Charli points out. “Overpaying is the point of these things.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.” Anton rubs his hands together, a boyish gleam in his eye. “What are you bidding on, Heidi Jo?”
“Hi, Anton. Bombshells,” the assistant to the Bruisers’ general manager greets us. She’s also married to Bruisers winger Jason Castro and is the most bubbly human I’ve ever met. “My honey just got outbid on this weekend on Nantucket.”
“Too bad,” Fiona says. “That looks like fun.” There’s a photo of a spectacular house overlooking a rocky beach. And another photo of the private plane that will deliver you there. Wow.
“I’ve never been to Nantucket,” Heidi Jo muses. “I think it’s time to change that, don’t you?” Then she leans over and writes Jason Castro on the next line, with a new bid, for three thousand dollars.
“Ooh!” Fiona laughs. “That’s one way to handle it.”
Heidi Jo shrugs. “We probably still won’t win, so I won’t have to explain myself. But it’s good for the charity, right?”
“I like the way you think,” Anton says.
“Oh, this sounds nice,” Fiona says, reading another item’s description. “A week at a Vermont cabin. Donated by retired player Dave Beringer. Nobody has bid yet.”
“What’s the minimum?” I ask.
“Five hundred dollars.”
“I bet Bryce would enjoy Vermont,” Anton says. “Don’t you?”
“Well—” I’m not about to write his name down.
“Guess we’ll find out,” Anton says. He picks up a pen, and a moment later Bryce Campeau has bid seven-hundred-fifty dollars on a weekend in Vermont.
“You are such a prankster.” I chuckle.
