Maddison is long gone by the time I make it back to my seat, and Rio is still batting his eyelashes at the girls at the bar. My beer is empty, and I’m not going to drink another the night before a game, but I can’t get myself to leave while Stevie is here surrounded by five of the shittiest people on the planet.
Trying to be sly but surely failing at it, I keep my selective hearing locked on the table next to mine, peering over every once in a while. Stevie’s two friends are entirely entranced by frat bro Chad and frat bro Brad while leaving her to the biggest asshole of them all.
He’s clearly uninterested and not even trying to be subtle about the fact that he got “stuck” with her as he sits a good two feet away and refuses to make eye contact, even when she’s speaking.
I fucking hate this for her. I’d hate this for anyone.
I also hate the way I can’t stay put.
Standing from my table, I go right over to hers.
“Holy shit, you’re Evan Zanders!” the one who refuses to give Stevie the time of day announces. “Can I get an autograph?”
I pause for a moment, letting him get his hopes up. “No.”
Looking down at the curly-haired girl next to me, I push her locks away from her face, and without thinking, I lift her chin to look at me. My tatted hand surrounds her cheek as I rub my thumb against the flushed and freckled skin. Stevie’s piercing eyes are blazing into me with confusion as her mouth gapes open. Not that I blame her. I don’t even know what I’m doing.
“Ready to go?” I ask, my eyes locked and focused on her blue-green ones.
She doesn’t answer. She just sits there in a surprised daze as the five onlookers share the same shocked expression.
“Thanks for keeping her company,” I tell the group as I lace my hand with Stevie’s, ushering her to stand and follow me out. They might not note the sarcasm in my voice, but I sure as hell do.
She drags behind me, still in a confused trance, so I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her body into mine, essentially guiding her outside. I can feel the group’s eyes on our backs, so I lean down and kiss the top of Stevie’s head to really sell the act.
I’ve never kissed a chick’s head before, and I’m not going to lie, it felt kind of weird.
12
STEVIE
“What...” I stumble, still in a confused stupor. “What are you doing?” I pull my body away from Zanders’ once we make it outside the bar. Part of me liked the weight of his arm on my shoulder, but most of me is beyond confused as to what is going on.
Zanders seems almost as stunned as I am by his little public display as he stands frozen right in front of the busiest bar on the main street in Nashville.
The buzz of live music echoes from every honky-tonk on the street.
“Holy Shit! It’s EZ!” someone yells, pulling out their phone and snapping a picture of the star hockey player.
“Zanders!” More pictures, more flashes.
“Fuck,” Zanders mutters under his breath, dipping his head down, trying to hide a bit.
“Is this your newest?” a random onlooker asks. My head snaps in his direction when I realize he’s referring to me. “She doesn’t look like your usual type.”
My eyes widen at the statement as my body warms, embarrassment flushing me. I can feel the weight of a dozen sets of eyes on me, not to mention the endless flashes of camera phones.
As quickly as possible, I turn in the opposite direction and run, needing to get away from this scene.
“Stevie, wait!” Zanders calls out, chasing me down. And because he’s tall as fuck, and his legs are practically tree trunks of muscle, he catches up to me in no time.
“Stevie,” he says again, gently pulling my arm back to follow him down a dark alley behind the bar. “Come here. Shit. Stop running away from me all the time.”
I yank my arm from his grasp, entirely flustered by this whole situation. “Can you not say my name out loud while all your fans are taking pictures? I don’t want to be plastered online next to all your puck bunnies.”
Realization hits me as I turn away from him, pushing my hair away from my face. “Oh shit. I’m so screwed. I’m so, so, so screwed. I’m going to get fired.”
“What are you talking about?” Zanders asks.
“I can’t be seen with you.” I motion towards his stunning body that’s barely outlined thanks to the small light hanging off the building above his head. “I’m going to get fired.”
I begin to frantically pace the small alley, afraid to go back on the main strip, worried his eager fans will be there ready to take even more pictures.
“Stevie, chill.” Zanders pulls my hands away from my hair as the cold metal of his gold rings shocks my flushed hands. “Why would you get fired?”
“Those pictures,” I blurt out. “I can’t be seen with anyone on the team. I’ll lose my job if I’m caught fraternizing.” My tone comes out frantic, the words stringing together.
“Wait, really?” Zanders’ face is covered in surprise and maybe a little bit of...disappointment? “You can’t hang out with us?”
“No! Oh God, no.” Concealing my face with my hands, regret floods me as I continue to pace the narrow alley. I should’ve never come out tonight. The whole evening has been terrible since Hannah and Jackie showed up at my hotel. Neither of them gave a shit that I was with them. They just wanted to use me as an in with the people I work for. The guy wearing those cowboy boots that I could tell he purchased today couldn’t even treat me like a human. I was in no way, shape, or form attracted to him, but I was trying to be friendly by holding a conversation, though it was clear he didn’t want to be stuck with me.
And now those pictures. Oh God, those pictures.
Looking up, I find Zanders frantically texting away on his phone. “What are you doing?”
“I’m handling it.”
“Handling what?”
“Those pictures.” He puts his phone back in his pocket. “My PR team is on it. Anything that makes it online will be taken down just as quickly.”
“They can do that?”
“I pay them a lot of money to do shit like that, so yes. It’s taken care of.”
Taking a deep breath, my shoulders drop in relief. “Thank you.”
The last thing I want is to be associated with Zanders’ reputation by people thinking I’m another one of his random hookups, but more than that, I can’t lose my job. It’s not even because it’s something I love doing or feel passionate about, but because of its flexible schedule, I get to spend any time I’m home doing what I am passionate about. And that’s spending all my free time at the dog shelter. I can’t think of too many other jobs where I can be home and off work for weeks at a time.
“What happened to the whole ‘you never lie’ thing?” I ask out of nowhere, still utterly confused and completely flustered by what just happened. “Whatever that was in there seemed like a lie to me.” I motion towards the bar.
Zanders shrugs. “Sometimes, a small white lie is necessary to get what I want.”
“Get what you want?”