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“Dude.” She snaps in his face. “How many fingers?”

He squints. “Four.”

She exhales. “Good. Anything else hurt?” She’s still going through concussion protocol, tracking his eyes, feeling the back of his head for swelling. While she does all of this, I’m stunned speechless, trying to reconcile the girl next to me.

The very attractive, very much not like a younger brother, girl.

Reid sits up on his elbows. “I don’t have a concussion, Twy, I’m just drunk.”

“Of course, you are.” She looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowing at me. “A little help?”

I snap out of it, moving into action, helping Wilder off the ground. “Nothing to see,” I announce. “Everyone give him some air.”

The crowd thins once they realize nothing dramatic is going on. When he’s steady on his feet, I let go, and turn to her.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t recognize you.” Now that she’s standing, I give her a full once over. She isn’t dressed overtly sexy. Just that tight midriff-revealing shirt, and a pair of high-waisted jeans. For Christ’s sake, she’s still wearing sneakers, but there’s the hair, and her eyes… That's the thing about the intern; she’s got these big, blue, innocent eyes and pouty lips, but it’s all lost in a permanent resting bitch face. But damn, who knew Twyler had a tight body under those hoodies? For a hot second, a bad idea forms in my mind before Coach Green’s lecture comes roaring back. Besides, she’s made it perfectly clear she’s not into guys.

I can respect thatandcheck out her tits.

“Thanks for being so quick to get to him,” I add. “He turns into a real dumbass when he drinks.”

“No worries.” Her eyes never make contact with mine, instead hovering somewhere around my neck. “Just doing my job.”

“He’s right, though. You never come to our parties.”

“Well,” her fingers push at her hair, flipping it over her shoulder and then back again, “I’ve never been invited.”

“That’s not true,” Reid says. “You’re one of the guys, open invite.”

A girl steps forward, one I hadn’t noticed in the mayhem, although I’m not sure how. She’s got the look of a girl ready to party—the kind just about every guy on the team is happy to see–except she’s scowling down at Reid. “She’s not one of the guys, you idiot.” She points at Twyler’s chest. “Do guys have tits like this?” Then spins her around and slaps her butt. “Or an amazing ass?”

“Nadia! Oh my god.” Twy covers her face, like she’s hoping she’ll just vanish. From under her hands she mutters, “Ignore her. Please.”

Of course, all it does is make me look at her, watching the red streak up her neck, and my gaze goes lower, and I check out her tits. Yeah, they’re not bad.

My eyes dart up and meet hers. She’s scowling.

“Did you seriously just check me out?” she asks.

“It’s her fault, Sunshine.” I point to the girl. “She brought it up.” Whoever “she” is.

“I know you’re God’s gift to hockey and the women on campus, but I’m still the same girl I was this afternoon.” Her arms cross over her chest, which isn’t helping the way she thinks it is. “Let’s go back to that please.”

Ah, the little brother line. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I’d ever say that.

“Reid, if you’re okay,” Twyler sighs, shifting away from me, “will you go get my friend Nadia a drink? Please.”

Reid’s been staring at Nadia ever since she made herself known. He grins happily. “Sure, come on, there’s a whole bar in the kitchen.”

We’re left alone. Ginna is waiting, but it feels rude to step away. She did come to Reid’s rescue. But even though I’m used to Twyler being around the locker room or taping ankles or handing out ice packs, she never talks much. If anything, like now, she mostly seems annoyed by us.

“You, uh, want a drink or something?”

“No, I’m going to head home. All Nadia wanted was an introduction.” She looks through the window to the kitchen where Reid and her friend are mixing drinks. “Mission accomplished.”

“Ah, so that’s why you came. To play wingman to your girl.” I look at her friend, trying to place her. “Or uh, wingwoman?”

“That’s exactly why.”