“You’ll get to know us,” Olaf said. “We hang up here all the time.”
“Hang out here.” Hugh punched Olaf’s shoulder. “He’s still learning English.”
“I speak English fine,” Olaf protested.
“You really do,” Amber agreed. “You hardly have any accent at all.”
“Thank you.”
She left the table and just as she returned, sure enough Jared, Marc, and Duncan had arrived and were walking up to the table. Her eyes met Duncan’s with a little jolt.
Crap.
In that instant she knew he felt it too—a swell of pleasure inside her at seeing him, a tingle in her limbs.
Crappity crap crap.
He gave her an up-and-down look that should have pissed her off but instead heated her blood. Then he scowled.
That pissed her off.
Keeping a smile firmly in place, she approached the table. “Hi, guys. What can I get you?”
“Hey, Amber.” Jared greeted her with a smile. “Good to see you again.”
“You too, boss.”
He laughed.
“Hi, Amber,” Marc said. “So the rumor is true, you work at the Sin Bin.”
She grinned at him. “Hi, Marc. How’s Lovey?”
“Great. She’s working on her blog tonight. She said if I see you to ask for your email address so she can send you a link.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Marc picked up one of the hockey puck coasters and she wrote her email address on the back. “She’d probably like to take more pictures of you,” he said. “It would be awesome to have an actual model on the blog.”
“Amber probably expects to get paid for her modeling jobs,” Duncan said.
Her insides went cold. She turned her gaze on him, trying to ignore how good he looked in faded jeans, boots, and a black-and-white plaid shirt left untucked and rolled up on his forearms. “Hello, farm boy.” Then she pointedly turned away from him and back to Marc. “Tell Lovey that’s not the case at all. She can email me and maybe we can set something up. I have to warn you though, I have a pretty full schedule.”
“Yeah, so does she,” Marc said. “But she’s flexible. She’d probably like to have lunch or something.”
Amber paused, a little twist of longing in her chest. “That would be nice. So what can I get you three?”
They too ordered beer and she left the table, not without her eyes meeting Duncan’s once more. She felt him watching her as she walked away. She knew her skirt was short and tight. Was he watching her ass? She resisted the urge to turn around and look.
She leaned on the bar and gave Jack their order. Soon her tray was full of glasses with various types of ale and lager. Jared’s beer menu apparently catered to his friends’ preferences. And why not, when you owned the place?
Her earlier fatigue had vanished with a surge of adrenaline that had her alert and edgy. She served the players their drinks.
“What was the drink special tonight?” Hugh asked her, holding a menu card.
“Uh. Depressed Goalie.”
Brent Stoyko roared with laughter and punched Jared’s shoulder. “Asshole.”
Jared grinned.
“Tuesday’s drink special is named for me,” Hugh said with a smirk.
Amber’s brows drew together.
Hugh pointed at the menu card. “The Big Stick.” He winked.
Amber had to laugh. The other guys all made jeering noises. “As if,” Brent scoffed. “If anyone has a big stick it’s me.”
“That’s not the ‘stick’ I was talking about.” Hugh’s eyebrows waggled.
She rolled her lips in to keep from smiling at their inappropriate jokes. “Can I get you anything else?”
For some reason her eyes once again met Duncan’s as the words left her mouth. Heat flared, and she felt glued to the floor.
The rest of the guys answered, “Nothing for me,” “Good for now,” but Duncan said nothing, just watched her with those hot, interested eyes.
Then why the hell had he sprinted out of her apartment yesterday? And why did he keep scowling at her? What was this weird push and pull between them?
She stopped by the table of guys she’d first waited on. The man who’d ordered the Depressed Goalie cocktail had now consumed several of them and had been flirting with her mildly all evening. She wasn’t creeped out by him like she’d been by the guy last week. This dude hadn’t laid a hand on her, had just complimented her and chatted her up a little. He seemed like a nice guy, clean cut, wearing a good suit, though he’d ditched the tie. Some kind of businessman, she guessed.
“So, beautiful, how long have you worked here?” he asked now.
“Almost three whole weeks.” She flashed a smile as she picked up his empty. “Another drink?”
“Nah. I’ve had enough. We have to head out soon.”
She nodded. “I’ll get your check.”
“Thanks.”
She was at the computer at the end of the bar, printing out their tab, when the man approached her. “Hey. It’s been fun tonight, and you’re really sweet. Would you like to go out sometime?”