Page 66 of Hat Trick

Oh, I like this version of him.

It’s the cocky, sarcastic side he doesn’t show too often, but when he does, it’s a sight. Fun, and definitely flirty. Light and carefree. I’m seeing more and more glimpses of this Riley, the guy he was before that night in June, shining through his personality recently, and it makes me match his grin.

“You’d know if I was shouting your name, Riley,” I say, and I’m glad when he drops his head back and laughs.

It’s fun to meet him toe-to-toe and give it back to him. Watching the blush crawl up his cheeks is an added bonus, and lately, I’m noticing more and more how goddamncutehe is.

“You know I shout yours when you give me those horrible exercises,” he says.

“And I love every minute of it.”

“Glad it makes you happy.” His eyes cut over to Piper and Maven, and he smiles. “Have a good flight, ladies. Don’t let Lex get you in too much trouble.”

“Don’t even say it,” I tell the girls when Riley takes the seat next to Ryan Seymour eight rows back.

“I knew about Riley’s crush, but yours is a new development,” Piper says.

“I do not have a crush on him. We tease each other. That’s what friends do.”

“Ah. I remember when Dallas and I were just friends,” Maven chimes in. “And all those times I thought about climbing him like a tree while claiming it wasplatonic.”

“Same with me and Liam,” Piper adds. “Those are famous last words.”

“Unlike you two, I can control myself.” I pop in a wireless headphone so I can block out whatever else they want to say. “And now you’re drinking alone.”

* * *

The guys playan unbelievable game the next night. They win by three goals, Liam has a shutout, and we celebrate by taking over the hotel bar and restaurant.

Everyone is rowdy and hungry, and I’m delegated to be on nacho duty. I finally get to the front of the line to order at the bar, and I’m cut off by a guy who towers over me.

“Um. Excuse me. I was next,” I say.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” He scoots to the side and motions me forward. I’m thrown off by the British accent, but I take the spot next to him and rest my elbows on the bar counter. “I was so determined to get a basket of chips, I didn’t notice you, and I apologize for jumping ahead in the queue.”

“Ah. See, in America, we call them fries. And lines.”

“Which is arse backward.”

I laugh. “Apology accepted, but I’m sorry too. I’m starving, and I can get snappy if I’m not fed every few hours. We’re coming up on six now, so the danger zone is near.”

“Oh, shit. Sounds like a matter of national security for you to order your food first.” He wipes his hand on his jeans and thrusts it my way. “I’m James.”

“Lexi,” I tell him, smiling at the warmth of his palm against mine. “What brings you to the Miami Marriott on a Wednesday night?”

“Thefrench fries, obviously.” James pauses and gives me a shy smile. “And the beautiful women."

“At least you have your priorities right.” I put in three orders of nachos and spin so I can lean against the bar ledge. “But, really. Why Miami?”

“I’m a pilot. I’m on a layover, and the company thinks thirty hours near a Buffalo Wild Wings is exactly what we want to do with our free time.”

“It’s not?”

“Nah. I prefer The Cheesecake Factory.”

I laugh. “Who doesn’t love a thirty-page menu?”

“You get me, Lexi.”

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