Page 92 of Hat Trick

A secret smile curls on her mouth when she taps her water glass, but I don’t ask any questions. She and Maverick have been trying to get pregnant for months now, and she doesn’t owe anyone an explanation or story of what might be happening behind the scenes.

I give her hand a squeeze and tuck my clutch under my arm, making my way over to the open bar. The line moves quick, and when I place my order for the four drinks, I turn and survey the ballroom to see how the night is going.

“Are you here with someone?”

“Pardon?” I glance to the right and spy a man in a tuxedo.

“I didn’t know if you were one of the player’s girlfriends or wives,” he slurs, and I eye the two drinks he’s holding. This is a classy event, and from the smell of alcohol rolling off of him, he should probably be cut off. “Or a sister. I like sisters.”

“I work for the Stars.”

“You do?” He perks up and sways on his feet. It’s going to be bad news if he topples into the champagne flute display. “Are you in marketing?”

“Head athletic trainer, actually,” I say.

“What’s that like?”

“I spend my days focusing on injury prevention. I’m the first responder for any medical emergency that occurs on the ice, and I can identify musculoskeletal injuries the way other people can identify cars,” I say, giving the rehearsed answer I’m used to tossing out. He’s too drunk to remember anything else. “I like it.”

“Huh. Sounds boring.”

“I get to be around a sport I love and make money from it.” I shrug. “Not sure we can call it boring.”

“You’re feisty, huh? I’ve always liked that in a woman.”

“And easily annoyed.” I spin and thank the bartender for the drinks by dropping a ten in the tip jar with the wads of twenties and fifties. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Do you need some help?” the man asks. “I have a hand.”

“Do you? It looks like your hands are full.”

“Shit. I’ll hold one with my teeth. I don’t mind. I can?—”

“She said she was fine,” a new voice interrupts, and I smile on instinct.

Riley.

I look his way, breath catching when I see his thick-framed glasses and stubble on his jaw. His tuxedo fits him like a glove, showing off curves of the muscles he’s been hard at work rebuilding. A pair of silver cufflinks flash under the chandelier lights, and his shoes are so shiny I can see his reflection in them.

I’d happily take two of him.

He’s so damn pretty.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” Riley answers, eyes sliding over to the guy beside me. “I can take it from here.”

“I was already?—”

“I really don’t want to have to get security involved, but I will if you don’t leave her alone.” He flexes his hand at his side, andyup. Just as hot as the movies. “Am I clear?”

“Sorry,” the man apologizes, clutching both drinks to his chest. “Enjoy your night.”

When he disappears, Riley’s focus snaps back to me. “I’m impressed.”

“With what?”

“Constantly having to ward off men? Having to explainnoto someone multiple times? Life must be exhausting for you, but you make it look so easy.”

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