Page 34 of First Puck

I was happy to sit by a window at any other place, but considering how most of the men in the restaurant were in suits and the women in flowing evening dresses, I felt so out of place. Even with the whispers of Brad’s touch still fluttering over my stomach, his murmurs of appreciation, the memory of his proud grin just before he hugged me, it wasn’t enough to banish the nerves beating me from the inside.

I’d already been seated for five minutes when Tommy delivered the water with a scowl. Another five, and I became sure the late arrival was part of Lance’s plan. He hadn’t left me waiting like this before when we’d made plans in the past, and the fact Tommy was serving our table only confirmed it.

By the time Lance breezed through the door, I was itching with awkwardness. I’d seared the six-line menu into my brain by the time Lance strode in, prowling past the pairs of olive trees strung with fairy lights to reach the table.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, swooping down to press his lips against my cheek. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

“I’m sure it was,” I replied dryly, and he shot me a quick grin, confirming my suspicions.

We’d literally come from the same building and it was barely a ten-minute walk away. There was absolutely no need for him to bring his car, but I wouldn’t question it.

“Try not to look so worried. We’re just having dinner,” Lance said smoothly as he slid off his very obvious Kites jacket, his number painted on the front and back, and turned to drape it over the back of his chair.

“You could have at least told me there was a dress code,” I grumbled.

“Well, it’s fine, isn’t it? We match!” He laughed as he revealed a black shirt unbuttoned so far down his chest I could see the top of his stomach, along with his blonde chest hair.

It honestly wasn’t a surprise.

But I was happy Brad had dealt with my shirt, even though it would have been fine when everyone else was wearing such bright colors.

Lance gave a satisfied sigh as he plucked the menu from its lonely resting place on top of his plate.

Before I could reply, a shadow cut across the table, and we both looked up. Tommy’s scowl evolved into pure fury as the muscles of his jaw shifted under his skin.

Lance burst into a smile as he peered over the top of the cream A4 sheet.

“Tommy! What a surprise!” He beamed.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Tommy hissed, glaring at Lance as he dropped two empty glasses in front of us. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The restaurant was reservation only, and I heard it had a two-month waiting list. So, either Lance had been planning this for longer than I thought, or he’d used his family connections to get us in.

Lance placed a hand on his chest in mock shock as he smirked up at the guy he claimed he was in love with. The more I saw them together, the more I was convinced Lance just enjoyed a tease.

“Please, Tommy, I would never do such a thing. It’s like you’re implying I deliberately booked this lovely table to see you or something.”

Lance notched his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his fingers as he gazed up at Tommy adoringly. I didn’t know what he saw in him, but then again, Lance didn’t know what I saw in Brad.

This was Brad 9.0. I helped Lance with Tommy, Lance helped me with Brad.

It was just the ‘pretend we’re dating’ bit I wasn’t completely on board with.

Tommy clicked his tongue in annoyance, twirling the pen like he was ready to stab Lance in the eye.

“Why don’t you just bring us a bottle of the house red to start?” Lance said with a lazy smile.

Tommy narrowed his eyes at him, not even glancing at me.

“Fine,” Tommy snapped as he shoved his notebook back in his apron and took off.

Lance never shared any more details about how they knew each other. It was some big mystery he liked to flaunt. And, from the way he endlessly poked at Tommy and Tommy’s absolute hatred of him, I had no idea what to believe.

I was sure he wouldn’t put up with Tommy’s temper if he didn’t like him. All the other guys on the team had just accepted that Tommy was permanently angry and left him alone unless we were on the ice.

Lance’s gaze swept over Tommy’s ass as he walked away, his expression softening briefly before he spun his attention back to me.

“Well, any progress?” he asked.

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