Page 4 of For Pucking Keeps

I take it all in, you know, for research purposes, keeping up small talk with Lia. She spots her brother, Ridley, followed by a few other rowdy teammates as he enters the bar, and like the Pied Piper himself, the pack of vultures begin to trail behind him as he moves through the bar, finds a booth, and begins to hold court.

Lia sucks in a breath through her teeth and rolls her eyes at the scene. “He didn’t used to be like this. He had a fiancée, loved her, wanted to give her everything, but she had her own ambitions.” Lia sighs heavily as the squeals of laughter ring out from her brother’s table. Ridley looks up then, as if he knows his sister is watching him. For a moment I can see her disappointment reflected in his gaze. His smile falters for a millisecond before he plasters on a panty melting smile for the woman in his lap and turns his attention back to her.

I don’t know much about Lia’s brother, other than he plays professional hockey. I assumed the playboy persona was who he was. “Did he cheat?” I ask curiously, genuinely interested in knowing more. I look around the room and try to see it through the eyes of someone in a relationship with one of these men. The trust has to be absolute, ironclad. Because the way these eager women wait for these men to showweakness so they can pounce, it must be damn near impossible to stay faithful. Hell, my personal experience proves you can’t even trust your own friends.

Lia knocks back her drink then turns around and I follow her lead, leaning in to hear her answer as she waves Lawrence down for another drink. “Nope. Like I said, my brother loved her, he was faithful. Two years ago, I never would have imagined the man behind us.” She throws her thumb back over her shoulder aggressively and continues. “But Brea wanted her music more, and I can’t say that I blame her, but she could have tried to make it work. It tore Rid apart, and these are the pieces I am left with. A broken brother, star hockey player, and now fuck-boy extraordinaire.”

My eyes widen at the name she just said, and my mouth flies open once more. I swear, I am going to swallow a fly from all the gaping I’m doing tonight. “Wait! Do you mean Brea Brookes?” I do a little happy bounce of excitement. Yep, too much drink indeed. When I first arrived in Seattle I saw her play at a local bar, and I became a fast fan. The piano playing melodic singer is a woman after my own heart. I could feel her heartbreak in every song lyric.

“The one and only.” Lia turns her head, swaying slightly as she meets my waiting smile of elation. “Well, I can see by the smile on your face you’re a fangirl.” She sighs. “She makes it damn nearimpossible to hate her, Jaz. I get it.” She looks over her shoulder and I follow only to see Ridley with his tongue down another woman’s throat. Now that I know the truth behind his behavior, I see him differently. This is a man who is losing himself the only way he knows how. A man who doesn’t want to get hurt again, and as fucked up as it is, protect his heart.

“Well, now I understand the meaning behind her songs,” I say as I lift my now empty drink in the air to catch Lawrence’s attention. “I can relate,” I whisper under my breath. I have probably met my drink quota for the night, but I am nothing if not thorough. If I am going to pay for it in the morning, I may as well go all in.

“Ladies.” Lawrence smiles, bright and cheerful, not at all bothered by all the people demanding his attention. The wedding ring on his left hand looks loud and proud, keeping the adoring women at bay. He gestures behind us having a silent conversation with someone over our shoulder. “Looks like someone has taken care of your tab tonight.” He winks setting another drink in front of Lia and me.

You know how you can feel someone’s eyes on you? The weighted stare you can feel in the pit of your stomach. The butterflies flutter around, filling you with nervous energy, giddy with just a hint of trepidation. There’s no fear, no alarm bells or red flags being thrown up. Nope. The feeling is almostpeaceful. I know without a doubt it's him, but I refuse to turn around. Instead, I play dumb. Deny, deny, deny. Lawrence smirks, and before I can stop him and ask what he means by that, Lia is lifted off her feet as toned muscular arms wrap around her waist, making her shout in delight.

“Damn it, Devan! Put me down. You’re making me spill my drink!” Lia shrieks , not a hint of anger in her voice. The man in question playfully nuzzles her neck with his nose, warm light brown skin, bright copper-colored eyes, tall, and built like a house, with dimples that would make any woman drop to her knees in worship. He is handsome, clean-shaven, and has a closely faded haircut. . .damn, they do still make them like this. By the looks of things, he has his sights set on Lia.

“Baby girl! My Lia-Bia. When are you going to put me out of my misery?” the man singsongs in her ear as he puts her back on her feet.

I turn, drink in hand, ready to introduce myself when all my words dry up on my tongue. The wind is knocked from my sails as I stare up at beautiful hazel eyes, thick kissable lips and, oh God, is he wearing a bowtie with his grey and black pinstripe suit? Why yes, yes, he is. Torrance Bailey stands so close that I can feel the heat between our bodies. My mouth opens and closes, at a loss for words as he takes up all the space in the room. I’m acutely aware of Lia andDevan watching our exchange but my eyes never leave his.

“Number fifteen.” He smiles, almost shy, boyish even. But this man is no boy. He shifts his stance, sliding his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, practically shielding me from Lia and Devan. It’s a power move, and damn me if I am not melting for it.

“Tor, this is my neighbor, romance author, Jazminne Starr,” Lia says from beside me, not in the least bothered by Torrance’s show of dominance. “Jaz, this is Torrance Bailey. You were wearing his jersey, and apparently he’s turned into a caveman, right along with Devan here.” I hear an audible grunt. I am sure Lia has given Devan an elbow to the stomach as she pushes her way past his wall of muscle.

“Devan Scott.” Mr. Dimples holds out his hand, somehow wiggling his arm through the space between Torrance to get to my outstretched hand, shaking it enthusiastically.

“Jaz,” I reply, my eyes, for some reason, have stopped working because I don’t acknowledge Devan with anything other than my hand in his. There’s that magnetism again, pulling me toward a man I don’t know, and I don’t want to be repelled. This feeling should be the very reason that I put my fourth drink down and find a reason to excuse myself for tonight.I’ve had my fun and I’ve done what I set out to do. I’ve gotten enough information to start my book.

“My friends call me Tor,” Torrance says, swatting Devan’s hand out of the way, replacing it with his. The moment his fingers brush mine, I feel it. The tingles, the electric current, the spark that I write about in great detail in my own books. It’s real. The fucking spark is real! It sends chills of delightful pleasure down my spine. I don’t think I’ve ever felt the spark in my entire life. Not even with my ex-fiancé. I guess that should’ve been a sign, right? I smile, trying and failing to keep the way he is affecting me off my face. I need to rein it in before I am nothing but a puddle at this man’s feet. I’m better than this.

Taking another sip of my mojito, tilting my head to the side in an attempt to take back control, I study the hockey player in front of me. “So, we’re friends then?”

“You are wearing my jersey,” he replies playfully, stepping closer and leaving no space for the holy spirit, as my mother used to say.

Is it me or is it getting hot in this bar?

I take another gulp of my drink; my entire body is buzzing from his close proximity, but I don’t let it show. I’m not that out of practice. “So were the majority of the fans in the arena, so that’s not saying much, Tor.” I smirk, looking up into his perfect face,and it takes all of my strength not to reach up and brush his wayward loc out of his eye.

“Are you suggesting we should be more, Miss Starr?” He leans in even closer, bringing the scent of vetiver and musk with him, making my mouth water. Is it too early in the game to say yes? Yes, please, let’s be more—wait—no. Hell no. Okay, what just happened? A horny presence has taken over my body and is wearing me like a meat suit. That has to be it. I’m going to blame my lapse in judgement on his pheromone-like scent. Getting all up in my space, making me swoon like a bitch in heat.

“So, you write romance novels. Are they the smutty kind?” Devan asks, lifting his eyebrows suggestively, suddenly breaking the flirty bubble between Torrance and me. Flirty might be the wrong word, but I refuse to think of something more appropriate. Not going to lie, I’m grateful for the question.

“Yes, I do. I write smut for a living,” I say, tipping the rest of my drink back, I swallow a big gulp of icy courage. I wince from the pain growing in my temples, spell broken.

Oh shit, brain freeze! If you’re looking for a mood killer, I recommend it.

FOUR

TOR

Imight have come on a bit too strong, I thought for a minute there she was going to leave the bar. I’ll have to thank Lia later for convincing her to sit down with us and have one more drink. Now we’re all sitting around a large table in a private corner Law keeps cordoned off for the team. I relax back into the plush leather seat and watch Jaz Starr. Yep, I’ve said her name in my head a few times since I’ve learned it. To say I am obsessing over the woman across from me is an understatement. I got all up in her personal space, and I don’t regret a fucking thing.

I spotted her the moment we all stepped into The Blue Line. Even with her back to me, the sight of ‘Bailey’ stretched across her back, the shape of her ass hugging the leggings she’s wearing, my dick stood up and paid attention. I lost all common sense; myfeet were moving before I could stop myself. A surge of possessiveness, the need to claim what’s mine should’ve had me stopping to examine my behavior but my brain had left the building. My dick though, my dick knew exactly how to take the lead and it knew what it wanted.

I’m grateful Devan got there before me. His crazy was the distraction I needed to rein in my own impulsive actions. I wanted to toss a woman I don’t know over my shoulder and leave the bar without a second thought. I’m the damn captain of the Seattle Vipers. I can almost see the social media posts if I’d let my dick have its way. Kidnapping isn’t my M.O. and I don’t need the bad press. Lia was right, I felt a bit like a feral caveman, which should’ve been a red flag—Stop. Do not pass go. Abort mission—but our hands touched, and I felt it. I saw the surprise in her eyes as she introduced herself. For a brief moment we both felt the electricity, the lightning strike of connection between us. Who is this woman and why does she have this effect on me? Why now? Why, when I have so much riding on this season? In fact, I shouldn’t be here hanging on to her every word. I should be heading home or I’ll be paying for my lack of sleep during my work out tomorrow. This is definitely not me leading by example.

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