Page 54 of Captain's Claim

Cap-tain’s Choice! Cap-tain’s Choice! Cap-tain's Choice!

Natalie, now my official bad influence, nudges me. “Youhaveto do it. It's the official shot of the Icehawks.”

"Official shot?" I lift an eyebrow. “Do I really?”

She grins. “I mean, the alternative is explaining why you’re chickening out in front of two hundred rowdy hockey fans…”

Before I can form an argument, a new voice cuts through the chaos.

Blake.

Oh, for the love of—

I whip my head around just as he pushes off the corner booth, rising slow and deliberate like he has all the time in the world.

The room shifts. People part instinctively, clearing space like he’s the damn king of Iron Ridge. His eyes are locked on me, gray and stormy, and even with the chaos swirling around us, I swear I canfeelhis focus.

I ignore the full-body shiver his gaze sends through me.

“This is aterribleidea,” he mutters as he reaches us.

No. A terrible idea would be blowing me a kiss in front of a worldwide audience, you moron.

Eli snorts and slams back the shot in his hand. “Since when do you call the shots around here,Captain?”

The crowd murmurs a taunting chorus of "Oooooo..." while Blake raises his gaze to meet Eli's, his expression radiating pure disinterest, as if this whole scene is just another tired rerun of a victory dance enjoyed one too many times in this bar.

"Last I checked," Eli drawls, leaning back in his chair with infuriating casualness. "This ismyestablishment. Which meansImake the rules." He winks at me playfully. "And the rules say newbies drink."

A loud roar of approval erupts.

"Face it, son." Eli's eyes twinkle with mischief. "On the ice, you're the boss. In here? You're just another pretty face who can't hold his liquor."

The crowd erupts inoohsand laughter, and I find myself giggling despite my best efforts to maintain my professional composure. Blake's eyes snap to mine, and something dangerous flashes in those steel-gray depths.

"Something funny, Miss Hart?"

"Oh no," I say, holding up my hands. "Don't drag me into your little, manly power struggle."

"Too late." His lips curve into that smile that sends a slow, electric pulse straight through me. "Besides, I don't think you could handle it anyway."

The bar goes quiet. Even Eli leans forward, waiting.

Oh, it ison.

"Excuse me?" I step closer, tilting my chin up. "What exactly makes you think I can't handle your precious hockey shot?"

"Because corporate types like you usually prefer their drinks with little umbrellas," he says, voice dripping with challenge. "This isn't exactly a cosmopolitan,sweetheart."

Without breaking eye contact, I reach for the nearest shot glass. The liquid sloshes ominously, and the smell alone makes my eyes water, but there's no way in hell I'm backing down now.

"Watch and learn,Captain."

I throw back the shot in one smooth motion, and—

Holyhell. What isinthis thing? It burns like liquid fire.Shit.I'm pretty sure I just grew chest hair.

I manage to keep my expression neutral as I slam the glass down on the bar and the crowd explodes.

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