Page 3 of Shot to the Hart

Honestly, my plan was to cuddle up with my e-reader and a glass of white wine until I eventually passed out.

Harley, with her dark brown curls and bronze skin, sporting a bright pink silky tank and black jeans, leans over into a very handsome, lumberjack-looking man’s personal bubble and sweetly asks, “Why is it so busy in here?”

She turns back to me with an eye roll, leaning into my ear and relaying his message, “Why are men the way they are? Tell me why he said, ‘Didn’t you hear sweetheart? The Tampa Bay Manta Rays took home their first win of the pre-season. Everybody, including some of the players, are here celebrating.’ Like dude, you don’t have to call me sweetheart and act like I should know what’s going on.”

“Over there.” She gestures towards the VIP section where multiple men are dressed to the nines and flirting with the bottle girls. They all have to be at least 6 feet tall, and some are tattooed, while others have man buns that range from dark to light in color. I can’t tell from here, but I’m sure they are morehandsome up close. One in particular catches my eye in a navy blue suit, I can really only see his side profile. His hair is longish, golden, and tied half up. His skin is the color of the whiskey he lifts to his mouth, and his suit is tailored to fit his body in all the right places.

I have the sudden need to go and run my hands up his arms—feel how firm they are. I shake it off. I’m tipsy, and surely a hookup with a hockey player is not what I need right now, even if I thought I could get one's attention. I’m just a plain Jane, there's nothing remarkable about my looks or my personality that would snag the attention of someone of that caliber. I’m sure they are only seeking out models or the like. More recently, Andy stopped commenting on how beautiful I was, regardless of much or little effort I put in. The only people who ever hyped me up were my best friends, and they are required to do that by friendship law.

I decide to ignore all thoughts of the men standing in the roped-off section and focus on spending time with my friends. I drag them out onto the dance floor and dodge the hands of grabby men. After what feels like hours of dancing, I grab Sin and drag her to the bar with me. While we wait to squeeze to the bar top, I pull up my phone and two notifications stick out. Andy liked my story, and I have a text from him.

Andy

Glad to see you’re spending time with your friends, you look good. Been thinking about you.

What the fuck. I haven’t heard from him once until right now and now he’s suddenly thinking about me.

I don’t have time to decide if I want to respond because Sin is grabbing my wrist and pulling me up to the bar. We order around of shots, taking them back to Harley and Darcy. We throw them back, wincing as the alcohol slides down our throats, then return to dancing. The night continues on and we drink enough to know we are all waking up hungover tomorrow.

Just as we decide this is probably going to be our last song of the night, a pair of hands find my waist, and a warm body presses into my back. The feeling of someone else’s hands on me after five years of only Andy’s has me almost shrugging the touch off, but Sin’s words from earlier come back to me. I remind myself that I need to get laid or at least have fun with someone. Instead of pushing him off, I turn away from my wide-eyed friends who are clearly shocked by the fact that I am allowing this man to touch me. I give myself over to the feeling of dancing with him and let myself enjoy the feel of his hands on me. He’s handsome, probably an accountant or business man, taller than my five-four by what could be three, four, maybe five inches, and his eyes meet mine with a devious glint in them.

“Hey there, beautiful, I’m Conrad,” he finally says, leaning into my ear.

“KJ,” I reply in a sultry tone before turning my back to him and allowing myself to lean into him as we continue to dance with my friends surrounding us. Giving him Andy’s nickname for me allows me some anonymity, he doesn’t need to know Kodi because he will probably never see me again after tonight.

We dance for another five songs before I feel his hot breath against my neck and hear him over the music as he asks, “Wanna get out of here?”

I nod and signal my friends in the direction of the exit. We reconvene on the sidewalk outside of the club.

“Where are you taking her?” The first question thrown in Conrad's direction, from Harley, as everyone orders their Uber rides home. Everyone ordering their rides makes me questionone last time if I want to do this or hop into the car my friends are taking and maybe see what Andy is doing.

Nope, no, not doing that, I don’t need to go down that path again.Conrad it is.

“I’m staying at The Edition about fifteen minutes away,” he hesitates, “room three seventeen.”

“If she doesn’t come home tonight, and I don’t get a text from her when you arrive at your hotel, I will find you, and I will make sure your dick is irreparable. Got it, Conrad?” Darcy smiles up at Conrad who has an arm around my waist, holding me close.

“And I’ll make it look like an accident,” Sin slurs from her seated position on the sidewalk, head hanging in her hands.

“She’s not joking, she knows how.” Darcy’s smile is now more evil than sweet. My best friend likes to think she is a pitbull, but she’s more of a dachshund. She can bite your ankles, but won’t do much more damage than that.

“Let us see your ID,” Harley pipes up beside Darcy, arms crossed over her chest. Conrad raises an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t back down.

“Alright, you win,” he chortles, pulling his ID out and handing it over. Harley snaps a quick pic and hands it back to him.

“Oh, Uber’s here, babe. Ready?” He gestures in the direction of the silver sedan waiting on the side of the road. I give a quick hug to my friends and slide into the car beside Conrad.

Twiddling with my hair, leg gently bouncing, I ask Conrad, “So, what do you do for work?

He laughs as if I said something funny. “I play hockey, KJ, for the North Carolina Firestorm. We lost to your team, the Manta Rays, and some of the guys wanted to blow off steam, maybe find a bunny to take back to the hotel.” He eyes me up and down.Is he insinuating that I’m a puck bunny?“We just didn’t realize Lockout was the celebration spot for the home players.”

“No fucking way.” My response is almost immediate. “I wouldn’t know that you're a player. I don’t keep up with sports.”

Just as our Uber pulls up to the hotel, Conrad scoffs, almost a little offended that I didn’t know who he was. Shrugging it off, I slide out of the Uber with Conrad placing a hand on my back to guide me, quickly sending a text to the girls that we made it to the hotel.

The elevator ride is quiet, Conrad subtly moving his hand lower until he’s got a handful of ass. When the door dings open, he guides me to his room, scanning his card and gesturing for me to enter.

Walking further into the room, Conrad approaches me placing his hands on my shoulder and turns me to face him. Moving one hand up to the back of my neck, he hauls me to him, our lips meeting in a fevered crash as he unzips my dress with the other. He guides us backward, laying me down and spreading my legs with his.

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