Matthew continued to check invitations and allow entry to guests while the woman stood to the side, bending the kid’s ear. But she didn’t look mad. In fact, she was smiling. She almost looked like she was…not flirting, exactly. More like she was teasing him.
Tate took a sip of his refilled whiskey and scanned the warehouse known as Dock 5, where guests flooded in. He knew almost every face—teammates, coaches, trainers, Beckett’s family and friends, the team owner…
Arguably, this location held the most important people in Tate’s life, yet he couldn’t have been lonelier. He’d known this season break would be rough—his first since he’d broken up with Lisa—but knowing it and living it were very different. Plain and simple—it sucked donkey balls.
Another flash of light pulled his gaze back to the door, where people lined the stairs to the entrance and the woman was still bothering Matthew.
“Poor kid,” Hendrix said. “Bro, get over there and show some of those leadership skills you’re supposed to be honing. Either kick her ass to the curb so Matt can do his job, or paint a bull’s-eye on your forehead. Maybe you could score tonight. I’d do it myself, but I asked one of the Rider Girls to be my plus one, and she’ll be here soon.”
Tate cut a frown at Isaac. “You’re dating a cheerleader? Which one?”
“Like you’d know the difference? The only reason you even know they exist is because they annoy the shit out of you. Oh, hey, there she is.” Hendrix straightened from the bar, slapped Tate’s shoulder, and met his gaze. “Put Matt out of his misery and think about tapping some of that. Dude, you need to score.”
“I don’t need a punk like you telling me I need to score.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Hendrix walked toward the entrance, where a pretty brunette wandered in all wide-eyed at the decorated space. Tate took another sip of his whiskey and watched the Rider Girl’s face light up when she saw Hendrix. She lifted to her toes to wrap her arms around his neck in a hug, then pulled back and smiled before she kissed him.
Heaviness collected beneath Tate’s ribs. He knew he needed some of that. A lot of that, actually. But he was caught between a rock and a hard place right now. He wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy. In fact, he’d never had one. For him, sex always included a relationship. And since Lisa, Tate had an aversion to both relationships and women in general.
One he needed to get over.
Tate glanced around the warehouse again. Dozens of beautiful women mingled throughout the space. Many were here with a date or spouse, but many were here solo or with family. And every one of them under the age of forty—okay and even a few above—was attractive. The majority of them were beautiful.
He searched all the women for something to interest him—their looks, their smile, something. But nothing flickered inside. He sighed and glanced toward the front door again. Sparkles was still bugging Matt. Still grinning. She had her hand on the rail, her body loose in a relaxed posture. She said something to Matt, then turned to the couple handing over their invitations, and spoke to them. Now everyone was grinning, including Matt. And with one more comment from Sparkles, they all burst out laughing.
Curiosity stirred inside Tate.
The couple stepped inside, and Matt continued taking invitations, but he still didn’t let Sparkles into the party. Now Tate wanted to know the story. And if she was a puck bunny, he wanted to steer her away quietly. Those women were notoriously obnoxious. They’d do just about anything to get attention, and she was working that door hard.
Tate approached the entrance, stepping aside to let the flow of guests pass as he assessed the woman through the glass. Now, just a few yards away, he had his first good view of her. The fact that she was attractive wasn’t a surprise. Tate hadn’t realized how many gorgeous women existed in the world until he’d gone pro. Now they’d become commonplace, one was almost indistinguishable from another.
Sparkles wasn’t as petite as she’d looked from a distance. She was on the taller side, at least five foot eight or nine. Her body was long and lean with the kind of curves that made Tate’s mind wander toward thoughts of wrapping his arms around them, feeling her up against him. The skirt of her sequined dress was short, and her tanned, toned legs went on and on, ending with matching sparkling spiked heels strapped to her feet.
Before his mind could wander again, Tate spotted Jake Tierney strolling across the parking lot toward the steps. This would be interesting. Tierney turned every female head within a five-mile radius. He was also one of the most eligible bachelors in hockey, with one of the fattest paychecks. If Sparkles was a puck bunny, she’d lock on to him instantly. And Tate would know exactly what to do with her.
As he waited for the two to cross paths, Tate scanned her again and realized she was holding nothing but a cell phone. No wrap. No purse. Where was she hiding her makeup? Her change of clothes for the morning after? Her condoms? Her sex toys?
Tate offered a hello to one of the Rough Riders’ trainers and his wife while Tierney slipped past the guests in line. But at the door, instead of coming inside, he paused, eyeing Sparkles with interest. He smiled, turning on the charm that made most women swoon, and said hello. Sparkles offered a polite response, but then crossed her arms and paced to the opposite side of the small platform, staring out at the night.
Tierney gave Matt a shrug and turned into the warehouse, stopping when he saw Tate. “Hey, what’s up?”
Tate lifted his chin toward the entrance. “She’s been trying to get in, but Matt’s blocking her. I’m gonna find out what her story is.”
Tierney glanced at her again, and a big smile cut across his face. “Hell, yeah. Get the whole story. That is one prime cut of USDA—”
“Jake,” Tate said with knock-it-off-already impatience.
Tierney chuckled. “Just sayin’. Mmm-mmm-mmm. Tasty.” He turned back to Tate, his gaze a little more serious. “Fuckin’ let that halo of yours slip for a change, Saint. Get some, would you? I know women suck sometimes, but you’ve got to take care of yourself.”
“Shut up.” Tate hated the stupid nickname the guys had been using more and more lately.
Jake leaned in and gave him a deadly serious “Get. Some. Tonight. Or face an intervention.”
Before Tate could tell Tierney what to do with his order, his teammate had disappeared into the crowd.
“Fuckin’ idiot,” Tate muttered, edging toward the door. The early July night air brushed Tate’s face and made him want to take off his suit jacket.
“Look, I totally get where you’re coming from,” Sparkles’ voice, even and congenial, touched Tate’s ears, “and I’ve got to give you serious kudos for taking your job so seriously, but if I tell my sister I’m going to be somewhere, I’m going to be there…” She trailed off as Matt smiled at another couple, took their invitation, and welcomed them to the party, then continued with “I’m not sure how many ways I can explain this to you…”