There was an awkward pause. It was uncomfortable even for me, and I had a lofty threshold for feeling uncomfortable. It happened about as often as I was wrong, which was basically never.
Behind Kristen, Luke stood in front of his table with Paul and the other Bulldogs. His eyes were on us, and he watched for a beat, wearing a chilling expression. Great. That’s what I need—Morrison thinking I’m chatting up other chicks in front of Bailey.
Already in motion, I pivoted around Kristen. “I should get back with these drinks. See you later.” Unfortunately.
Mental note to kill Ty for putting them at our table.
By the time I finally returned to our table, Dallas and Ty were there too. Ty had his arm slung around Zoe’s chair while she and Siobhan were locked deep in conversation.
I set down our drinks and pulled out my chair, then sank down beside Bailey. Briefly, I wondered if she would ask me about my Morrison or Kristen run-ins.
“Thanks.” Bailey grabbed her vodka seven and took a sip. “I heard about the time you took a guy out without touching him.”
“You mean Paul?” Hopefully, that idiot would give a repeat performance when we played them in a couple of days.
“No,” Shiv said. “When you played the Blizzards last season and that guy trying to fight you slipped and bailed.”
I laughed. “Oh, yeah. That was awesome.” The guy speared me and skated away without being called for it. When I made a hit on him in response—which was a perfectly reasonable thing to do—he got salty and started a fight. But before we could actually throw down, he lost his balance, fell on the ice, and gave himself a concussion. I loved when people did my dirty work for me. Avoiding the fighting penalties was great too.
Bailey gave me a wry smile, shaking her head. “I always said you were devious, even before I met you.”
“I think you mean genius.”
Bailey huffed a soft laugh. From across the table, Dallas snorted and rolled his eyes but said nothing.
“Actually, I need to run to the bathroom.” Bailey stood and pushed her chair away. “Be right back.”
With Morrison here, I was half-tempted to escort her there, but that would probably be overkill. I would watch her from afar like a totally normal, not at all overprotective boyfriend would. As she weaved her way through the room, I scanned the crowd but couldn’t locate Morrison.
While I waited for Bailey to return, I turned away to talk to Ward for a moment. “What time do you want to take off?”
“Up to Shiv.” Dallas shrugged.
Ty nodded behind me. “Uh, pretty sure Greenfield is hitting on your girlfriend.”
I craned my neck, scanning the banquet hall in the dim glow of the crystal chandeliers. Off to the side, beside an artificial tree covered with twinkle lights, I spotted endless legs, long blond hair, and that dress I wanted to tear off later. Bailey was being chatted up by Mason Greenfield, power forward for the NHL’s Boston Storm.
He was sporting dark, slicked back hair, a ridiculously flashy, expensive suit, and a gold watch so big I could almost make out the time from across the room. A walking new money cliché designed to pull chicks which, frankly, worked most of the time. It was easy enough being a professional athlete; the window dressing was just gravy.
And yes, he was definitely hitting on Bailey. He was probably fully aware that she was here as someone else’s date—he just didn’t care. Greenfield had graduated from Boyd last spring, and he made me look like a fucking saint.
“Looks that way.”
Guess I wasn’t the only one who liked the way she looked in that little black dress.
“She thinks he’s being nice, doesn’t she?” Shiv murmured, watching them.
I took a sip of my beer. “Probably.”
Bailey told me she didn’t get hit on very often. But—my obvious bias aside—Bailey was attractive. She had long legs, gorgeous hair, a killer smile, captivating eyes. She was the whole package.
Then I spent more time with her and discovered that, more often than not, she didn’t realize when guys were trying to pick her up. She thought they were being friendly.
My beautiful, sweet, oblivious girlfriend.
“You gonna rescue her?” Dallas asked.
“I’ll give it a sec to see how this plays out.”
I didn’t want to be a helicopter boyfriend who got crazy jealous at every turn, even though, inwardly, I kind of was. Whether or not Bailey knew it, she attracted a lot of male attention. I didn’t love it, but at the end of the day, I trusted her. She would never cheat, and she could generally handle herself. The only time I intervened was with her creeper ex or when she looked uncomfortable.
Greenfield leaned in a little too close for my liking and said something to her. Bailey shook her head, and what looked like the word boyfriend passed her lips, although I couldn’t hear the conversation from here. He cocked his head and responded. Knowing Greenfield, the retort was probably something classy about how his dick was bigger. She glanced away and scanned the crowd, eyes locking on to mine. We’d hit uncomfortable.
“That’s my cue.” I pushed off from the table and strolled across the room to join them.
Bailey watched me approach with relief written all over her pretty face. I probably should have stepped in sooner. Hard to gauge sometimes when I was trying not to go full caveman. If I let myself, I’d never leave her side. Or let any other guys look at her. Hence my holding back.
I nodded at him. “Nice to see you.” Jesus, man. I could smell his cologne from where I stood.
“Carter,” he said. “Long time no see.” He extended his hand, offering me a firm handshake—way firmer than necessary. Were we doing this now? Maybe we could pull out a ruler next.
“I see you’ve already met my girlfriend.” I slid an arm around the curve of Bailey’s waist, giving her a little squeeze.
Understanding dawned on his face. “I have. You’re a lucky guy.”
“The luckiest.”
His gaze darted back and forth between us like he was trying to find his way out of a dead-end street. And, for him, this absolutely was.
“Well,” he said, “I should go mingle. But it was nice meeting you, Bailey. Good to see you again, Carter.”
He didn’t mean that last part one bit.
“Same to you.” And neither did I.
With a nod, Greenfield turned and walked around us, making his way to the bar to find his next potential target. I had to admit, I was curious about whether he would succeed at pulling someone else’s date tonight. Hell, maybe he could rescue Morrison’s date.
“Thanks.” Bailey glanced up at me with a little smile. Her eyelashes looked impossibly long, framing her round hazel eyes in a way that I couldn’t tear my attention from. Sometimes, like right now, I got a little lost in her.
She shifted her weight, wincing and bringing me back to reality. “My feet are getting tired. Not used to heels. Can we sit down?”
“Sure.” With my hand on her lower back—a little lower than was probably appropriate—I guided her around the tables until we reached ours in the middle. Everyone had left, probably to dance or get drinks, leaving it vacant. I pulled out Bailey’s chair and pushed it in for her before sinking into mine beside her.
I slung my arm along the back of her chair, resting my hand on her shoulder. She leaned in closer, nestling against me, and her vanilla-spice perfume hit me like a drug, doing bad things to my self-control. That dress wasn’t helping, either. It hugged every curve in a way that made me jealous of the fabric. I wanted to hike it up and bend her over the table.
“What did Greenfield say to you?”
“Um…He asked me to leave with him.”
Yup. Pretty on-brand for Greenfield.
I nodded. “I figured.”
“Why?” She angled her head, giving me a questioning look.
“Because I saw the look on your face, and I know what he’s like.” I slid my arm off her shoulders and rested my palm on her thigh. Warmth from her skin radiated through the thin fabric, melting away the rest of my self-control.