Page 2 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
After the next song, a slow thirst starts to creep in, curling deep in my chest and making my mouth crave something cool and crisp. Champagne would do the trick, sure, but it’s not just the bubbles I want. It’s the pull of curiosity, the heat of a glance not yet exchanged.
My gaze drifts toward one of the quieter bars tucked into a secluded corner of the mansion, half-hidden behind a statue and sweeping curtain of ivy. Three men stand there, their energymagnetic even from across the room. There’s something about the way they carry themselves—confident, relaxed, like they’re in on a secret—that lures me in. And suddenly, the idea of getting a drink feels like more than just quenching a thirst.
“All right, boys,” I say, catching my breath. “I’m going to grab another drink. Thanks for the dance.”
“You want me to get it for you?” Eric offers, ever the gentleman.
I flash him a playful grin. “No, thank you. I think I spotted something I like over there.” I add a wink for good measure as I nod toward the corner.
Eric and Levi exchange a knowing look, matching smirks on their faces.
“Try not to start any trouble,” Levi teases. “We’re right here if you need anything.”
As I make my way toward the bar, the noise around me seems to fade, like someone gently turned down the volume of the party. The lighting is softer here, casting a warm, golden glow over the sleek countertop and glinting off the bartender’s polished glassware. He’s focused on his task, carefully wiping down the counter with the kind of attention that says he’s seen it all. But it’s not him that has my pulse kicking up a notch. It’s the three men standing just off to the side. Their presence is impossible to ignore, like gravity pulling me in.
I’ve met almost everyone linked to the Avs by now—players, coaches, the whole crew—but here, in the maze of dresses, tuxedos,and masks, I can’t tell who’s who. They all blend together. There’s nothing distinctive about their appearances now, just the blur of masks that keep their identities hidden. And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that these three, wearing dark suits and their own signature masks, are somehow different.
Wolf. Lion. Jester. Each one watches me with an intensity that could melt my mask.
At a masquerade ball like this, I should probably be cautious. But tonight, the air thrums with unspoken energy. The way my mask hides my face and the buzz of champagne and tequila settling in, the way it empowers me to be somethingmorethan just Leighton, makes me take another step forward.
“What can I get for you, miss?” the bartender asks, his voice smooth and low, breaking the silence like the soft pop of a cork.
Another sip of champagne. Just a little conversation.
Nothing more.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
The moment I open my mouth to answer the bartender, one of the men speaks.
“That’s a gorgeous dress, darlin’,” he says, voice like soft gravel, low, rumbly. “That red suits you all the way to the ground.”
I curtsy, mimicking something I’ve only seen in movies. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s not,” he continues. Despite the full Jester’s mask of blue and ivory, I catch a glimpse of salt-and-pepper hair alonghis jawline. “It’s the damn truth. You’re collecting admirers tonight.”
A silver fox with a filthy mouth. Trouble never felt this good.
I glance around quickly, making sure he’s not attracting too much attention. The coast seems to be clear… for now, at least.
“And the ruby necklace is the perfect touch with your sparkly mask,” says Lion, his deep voice smooth as velvet beneath a brass lion’s face. “But it’s the woman wearing them who steals the breath from my lungs.”
Where Jester smiles, Lion roars, sharp fangs carved into the mask’s snarling face.
“Breathless, huh?” I tease, coiling a strand of hair around my finger as my lips curve into a smirk.
“That’s right,” he adds, clutching his chest theatrically, the unexpected silliness cracking through his confident aura and tugging a laugh from me.
“A friend helped pick it out,” I say. I tilt my head down, then peek up at him through my lashes, slowly licking my lips. His eyes immediately drop to my mouth.
Yeah, I saw that.
“Is your friend here tonight?” Lion asks.
I spin around, looking for Ava, but the motion dizzies me. Before I can right myself, a third man steadies me with warm, strong hands on my bare shoulders.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs. He wears a pewter wolf mask, his mouth fully visible, and clean-shaven beneath it. He smirks.
