Page 2 of Dream Girl Drama

A hockey fan—thank God. That would work in his favor.

“Gentlemen.” Sig greeted them with a nod. “Having a little car trouble and my phone just gasped its last breath. Do either one of you have a charger? Or a phone I could use?”

“Sig. Gauthier, right?” One of the young men approached with his hand extended and they shook. “I’m Benny. Oh man. What are you doing in Darien?”

“Making a huge mistake, probably. About that charger...”

“There is a strict no phone policy while we’re on the clock. Everything is in my locker.” The poor kid looked sick about it. “Uh... crap. I don’t know what to do.” He took on a conspiratorial tone. “They won’t even let you use the bathroom if you’re not a member. Basically, you might as well be invisible.”

“How cool,” Sig deadpanned. “Maybe you could make the call for me?”

The guy visibly started to sweat. “I’m not supposed to leave my post, Mr. Gauthier—”

“Sig.”

“Holy shit, Sig. That goal against the Red Wings last week? I fucking—”

The other valet hissed at him. “Dude. Language.”

“Sorry.” Benny shifted from left to right in his immaculate white tennis shoes. “Could I get an autograph?”

“Sure.”

Sig rolled the stiffness out of his neck while the kid fumbled for a pen and an unused valet ticket, laughing in disbelief when Sig laid down a quick signature, before getting his mind back on the problem at hand. “Look, Benny. I’m just going to walk in. I’ll tell them you tried to stop me.”

“Badass,” whispered the hockey fan. “Exactly what I’d expect.”

“Nice meeting you, kid.” Sig was already jogging up the steps. Before he’d even opened the door, he locked eyes with the suitedemployee behind the reception desk, the man’s expression growing progressively pinched as Sig drew closer. This was going to be fun. “Hey, man. I need a charger or a phone. Your choice.”

The man gave a sudden broad smile. “I’ll just need to see your member ID.”

Sig grinned. “We both know I don’t have one.”

“Well, then I’m afraid I’ll have to go with option C. Neither.”

“Clever.” Sig propped his elbow on one of many white pillars in the lobby. “Look, I didn’t choose to break down outside your club, but here we are. One phone call and I’ll be on my way.”

“I’m afraid I can’t—”

“Oh,thereyou are!”

That was the first time he heard Chloe’s voice. Eight minutes after his truck started to shit the bed. His bones just knew it had been eight minutes—he made a living keeping track of the clock without shifting focus from the game—and everything within that parameter of time had led him there. To the right place.

He just fuckingknew.

Before he even turned around.

But when hedidturn around? He almost got down on his knees, right in the middle of that lavish lobby. She was that damn... enthralling.

Yeah, fine, she was a hot blonde dressed in a pleated, white tennis skirt, which was apparently his newest and deepest fetish. Somehow, though, her looks were the least of what stopped his breath. How about: she fucking floated? Had to be his imagination, right? But that’s how he registered her graceful movements. Even the way she blinked was elegant, those long eyelashes sweeping down to hide lively blue eyes, before gracing the world with them again. She had this magical fucking smile that made Sig feel like he’d been socked in the solar plexus.

Holy... holy shit.

Who is this?

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She laughed, laying a hand on Sig’s arm and squeezing. “Play along,” she mumbled out of the corner of her mouth.

Now, look. Sig was normally nimble enough to jump in on a gag without so much as a wink, but her touch made him drunk. Instantly. He couldn’t have remembered his own address, much less play along, as she’d requested. Play along with what?

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