Page 72 of Time to Shine

“I’m not—” Landon glared at Casey, who at least looked sheepish. “I’m not coming for his job. I’m just helping out. And I didn’t know this was his shirt. Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Casey said. “That’s on me. So, it’s Antton’s shirt. I thought it would look good on you and—” his gaze traveled over Landon’s torso “—I was right.”

Landon was blushing and he hated it. “I can’t wear this.”

“You are wearing it.”

Jesus Christ, what was Landon doing? Going to a nightclub wearing what had to be a thousand-dollar shirt at least—he hadn’t missed the label inside—that belonged to Antton Niskanen? What if he sweated in it? What if he spilled beer on it, or snagged it on something?

“I can’t—”

“It’s a fucking shirt, brother,” Clint said. “Relax. As if Antton doesn’t have enough of them. I’m surprised the plane can even take off, all the fucking clothes he packs.”

Landon exhaled. He needed to let this go. He really didn’t want to be angry at Casey all night, or panicking over a shirt. He would thank Antton tomorrow. It would be fine.

“Okay,” Landon said.

Casey beamed. He looked so good tonight, wearing an ice-blue silk T-shirt that clung in all the right places and made his eyes look incredible. The neck had a wide V that, paired with the soft tumble of Casey’s hair, looked almost feminine, contrasting with all of his hard muscle and masculine torso in a way that Landon found fascinating.

Casey led the group to the Aria Hotel, then to a nightclub inside, and then to the private booth he had apparently booked in advance. No one in the group seemed surprised in the least, so Landon figured private booths in fancy clubs were a regular occurrence for superstar hockey players.

He perched on the edge of a leather bench seat and tried not to be overwhelmed by everything. It was really fucking loud and crowded in the club already, even though it was a Monday night. He was grateful for the small slice of privacy Casey had arranged for their group.

Their group was pretty loud, though, and got louder as the bottles of vodka, rum, tequila, and bourbon that had been delivered to their table got emptier. Guys had left to dance or explore the club, and some of them had returned with young women who’d become part of their group.

Landon wasn’t having a terrible time. For one thing, he was on his third vodka soda, and everyone seemed thrilled that Landon had joined them. It made him feel good, like he truly was part of the team.

Also, Casey had stayed with him, but had managed to do it in a way that didn’t make Landon feel like Casey was babysitting him, or that he was making any kind of sacrifice. Casey was talking to everyone, joking with his teammates and getting to know the women who’d arrived. Landon enjoyed the way his cheerful, slightly hoarse voice wafted over the noise of the club as Casey asked people questions and delighted in their answers. He also enjoyed the way Casey’s T-shirt kept riding up as he made enthusiastic hand gestures while he talked. Landon was sitting next to West, who had been texting his girlfriend, Allison, all night and dutifully avoiding the dance floor. Gio and Pete had been sitting with them, but they’d left in search of dance partners a while ago. Landon was able to sit in silence and simply observe, which was his preferred party mode. Overall, he was pretty comfortable.

Needing to stretch his legs, he stood and leaned on the railing that lined their private booth and gazed down at the dance floor. He tried to imagine himself down there, but the thought of being bumped into and touched by that many people made his skin crawl.

But it also looked like it could be...fun.

“Stacks!”

Landon turned toward the sound of Casey’s voice, and saw him walking over, his arm looped around a young woman’s elbow.

“This is Kelly! She’s from where you’re from!”

“Really?” Landon asked, legitimately surprised and interested. Nova Scotia was a small place.

“Well, close,” Casey said. “Same ballpark.”

“I’m from Maine,” Kelly said with a smile that suggested she had already explained the difference to Casey.

“Oh. That’s cool,” Landon said. “Pretty close.”

“Yeah,” Casey said enthusiastically. “Boats and lobsters and shit, right?”

“That’s our state slogan,” Kelly said.

Landon smiled. He liked Kelly already. “What brings you to Vegas?”

“I’m here for a super-boring convention.”

“About what?”

She leaned in as if she was about to tell him a secret. Landon bent lower to make it easier for her. “Groundwater,” she stage-whispered.

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