Page 51 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

When we step out onto the sidewalk, the night is unseasonably cool, and the breeze feels fantastic on my heatedskin. Bobby drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer as we walk to the valet stand.

“You cold?”

I shake my head and muster a smile, not wanting to let him in on my discomfort. I went into this with my eyes wide open. I knew he was a public figure just like I knew I was twelve years older—and look it. Why do I even care what other people think?

When we get to his building, he parks his truck in the underground garage and opens my door like a gentleman before we take the elevator to the thirtieth floor.

“Soon, you’ll have a house and won’t have to wait for elevators or make five trips to get your groceries upstairs anymore,” I say as we head down a carpeted hall.

“Would it be tacky of me to admit I get my groceries delivered most of the time?” he asks with a sheepish look that only makes me smile.

“Not at all.”

Bobby pulls out a set of keys and unlocks a door at the end of the hall before holding it open for me. I step through, craning my neck to tell him I’d do delivery too in his shoes when a stranger’s voice has me jumping in my heels instead.

“I promise I’m not jerking off this time, Boberto!”

“Motherf—” Bobby cuts himself off, quickly shutting the door behind us and sidestepping me to place himself between me and whoever just spoke.

“Richie! I swear to god I’m taking back your key.”

Richie? His brother! Crap! I’m not ready to meet his family!

Bobby turns to face me, apology written all over his face. “I’m so sorry, Molly. I had no idea he was here.” He raises his voice on the next comment. “He was supposed to be at work!”

“Wait, who’s here?” Richie asks, voice getting louder as he approaches the entryway.

Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now, so I may as well woman up and make the best of it. Plastering on a smile, I step around Bobby and raise my hand in a friendly wave at the guy standing there. He bears some resemblance to Bobby, but his hair is a mess and he’s taller. And his fashion sense is decidedly different if the “Who farted?” T-shirt and cut-off sweatpants are anything to go by.

Richie looks me up and down as a grin overtakes his lips. “Well, this is a surprise.”

Of all the things he could have said, I suppose that’s one of the better options.

“Hi, I’m Molly,” I say. “You must be Bobby’s brother.”

He approaches, but when he takes my hand and turns it to kiss the back, Bobby shoves him away—hard.

“Don’t touch her, asshole,” Bobby snarls, but it only makes Richie laugh. Bobby looks down at me, nose wrinkled. “He doesn’t wash his hands.”

“He lies,” Richie tells me. “Can I get you a drink, Molly?”

Bobby curses under his breath again. “Dude, this ismyapartment.Get out.”

Richie scoffs and addresses me again. “What’s a classy lady like you doing with this rude, lying reprobate?”

I decide not to go with my reflexive answer oforgasmsand settle on, “He’s been a perfect gentleman so far.”

Richie cocks his head. “Color me surprised. My brother must be on his best behavior with a real lady instead of his usual puck bunnies.”

“That’s it!” Bobby lunges for his brother and puts him in a head lock.

Richie laughs and tries fighting Bobby’s hold while elbowing him firmly in the gut. I flatten my back against the wall to keep from getting taken out by any stray limbs. Both men grunt andswear as they battle each other until Bobby gets Richie’s arms twisted behind him and frog-marches him to the door.

Bobby lifts his chin to me. “Mind getting the door, baby?”

“Baby?” Richie’s eyebrows spike as they stagger my way. “Wait till I tell the boys!”

I can only shake my head as I hold the door open and step out of the way.

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