Page 95 of Hat Trick

“Don’t ever tell me them if you do. Em is like my sister—I don’t need to be thinking about her like that.” Hudson grimaces. “No offense, Mav.”

“Same,” I add. “I also don’t need Mavvy kicking my ass. I’m not as fast as I used to be, and there’s no way in hell I can outrun him.”

“The only one who needs to run is Grant fucking Everett.” Maverick stands and shoves his chair back. “I’m going to kill him if he touches her.”

Hudson and I watch him storm away, and my former defense partner laughs.

“How has he not figured out Emmy does this on purpose?” he asks. “It’s so funny to watch.”

“He’ll learn one day.” I scan the room and my eyes immediately fall on Lexi. She’s like a goddamn magnet for my attention. She’s standing in the middle of the dance floor, arms above her head while she moves to the rhythm of an upbeat song playing from the DJ’s speakers. “I might go grab a drink. You want anything?”

“I’m good.” Hudson’s eyes follow mine, and he hums. “Maybe you’ll find your way to the dance floor. Rumor has it the DJ is easily persuaded to put on a slow song if you slip him some money. At least, that’s what Liam and Maverick told me.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know, Mitchy. Why would you?”

I watch Lexi spin, that goddamn dress a flurry of tempting gold and sparkles and weakening self-restraint, and I leap out of my chair as fast as my leg will let me.

“I’ll be back,” I say.

“No, you won’t,” he answers with a smirk. “Have fun.”

I dodge a group of our top-tier season ticket holders who look like they want to ask me a dozen questions. I autograph a team photo for someone who tells me they’re going to auction it off to raise money for the Boston Marathon and bump my knuckles against Ethan’s. I only stop to slip the DJ a wad of cash—it could be a hundred dollars or a thousand, I’m not paying a lick of fucking attention—and make my way onto the dance floor just as the beat slows and the lights dim.

“Hey,” I say, and Lexi spins to face me, a smile pulling on her lips.

“Hi,” she says. “I thought you might’ve left.”

“Not yet. I figured I needed to cash in on that dance you wanted me to save you.”

“Perfect timing. You didn’t have anything to do with the song choice, did you?”

“Me?” I touch my glasses frames and shrug. “No. I’ve been with Hudson and Maverick this whole time.”

“Interesting. Guess it’s fate then.”

“Guess so.” I offer her my hand. “My leg is killing me from standing all night so I can’t promise any good moves, but I’m going to do my best.”

“We can just stand here.” Lexi’s fingers fold around mine. Her other palm rests on my shoulder and I drop my left hand to her waist, my fingers bunching in the soft material of her gown. “I’m not picky when it comes to ballroom dancing.”

“Good to know.” Shooting pain races up my right thigh, but it’s easy to ignore when she closes the distance between us and smiles from ear to ear. “Have any other drunk finance bros bothered you?”

“Why is it always finance bros?” She laughs, her head dropping back and her shoulders shaking. “Why can’t it be a… a scientist? Or a meteorologist? Someone interesting.”

“Do you know a lot of meteorologists?”

“I follow this woman down in Florida who has a weather show. She’s been in tornadoes and hailstorms, and she’s a total badass.”

“I didn’t know you had an affinity for weather, Lex.”

“I don’t. Just women who are breaking glass ceilings.”

I stroke my thumb over the curve of her hip and her breathing stutters. “I meant what I said earlier. You look fucking gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I’ve always liked dressing up. I try to find ways to make what I’m wearing cute—even if it’s team-issued gear—and I love that more and more clothing companies are designing sports jackets and game day outfits for women that go beyond a simple T-shirt.”

“You pull off team-issued gear well. Meanwhile I’m over here in a long-sleeved Stars shirt looking silly.”

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