Page 1

Chapter one

Silas

What's your name again?

~ End of September ~

“Here we go again.” I roll my shoulders back, cracking my neck from side to side as I stand across the street, watching all those lovely people dining through the restaurant window.

You’d think after ten years of this shit, I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not. I mean, I am, but that doesn’t stop it from bothering me from time to time.

I could have just stayed home and eaten in peace, but there’s only so much quiet someone can tolerate when you’re used to being surrounded by your teammates and friends most days of the year.

When does sitting alone in a ‘way too big for myself penthouse’ at a massive dining table that could easily fit fifteen, listening to the sound of your silverware scrape against your plate, start to get pathetic?

Normally, I’d have some of my teammates over, or I’d invite myself to Clay’s place for dinner. Morgan really does have some mean cooking skills. I get now why he was so quick to put a ring on it. I would have done the same.

Okay, I’m sure that’s not the only reason he married her since she’s perfect for him. But the chef plates she can whip up are definitely a bonus, in my opinion.

But with our season starting soon, everyone is spending their remaining days off with their families and friends. Which brings us back to why I’m standing here, alone, staring at the restaurant front, debating whether I sacrifice myself or not.

Don’t get me wrong; I love my fans. But sometimes it would be nice to be able to go out for dinner alone and not have someone coming up to my table every five minutes for a picture or an autograph.

Or to tell me how big of a fan they are and what I should do or not do to help us win the Cup this year. Last I checked, I was the professional hockey player here, not them.

Maybe that makes me sound a bit arrogant, but I’m not one of the highest paid players in the league for no reason. I know what I’m doing and what I could improve.

Inhaling one last deep breath, I look both ways before crossing the street toward the doors to the restaurant. In the early days of my career, I would normally wear a baseball cap over my head and hope people wouldn’t recognize me so easily.

But it turns out when you’re six foot four and built like a brick house, even with a cap, it’s hard to go unnoticed. So, I dropped that charade pretty quickly.

With one hand on the handle to the double mahogany doors, I pull it open and step inside one of my favorite places to eat. I take a few more steps toward the hostess, who is preparing to seat the elderly couple standing before me.

She looks up from the menus in her hand and gives me a bright smile a bit too big for a simple customer. But I can’t blame her. I come here quite often, and she’s made it blatantly clear on more than one occasion that she’s interested in a lot more than simply seating me at my table.

“Hey, Sy.” She looks at me with those sultry eyes like she does every time I come in.

I hate when she calls me that, as if we’re good friends or lovers. The truth is, I don’t even remember her name. Madison? Or maybe it’s Emily...

“Hi.” I don’t dare say anything more in case her name is neither Madison nor Emily.

Her smile falters, probably picking up on the fact that I’ve never once said her name, no matter how many times she’s said mine. “I’ll be back shortly to place you.”

“That’s all right, take your time.” I offer a tight smile.

I watch her walk away with the elderly couple following suit, then let my eyes roam over the dining area. I catch a couple of eyes already on me but ignore them as I keep sweeping over the place, looking for a quiet corner away from the rest of the patrons.

I find one nestled in a corner near the back of the restaurant, away from any windows. Perfect. I turn my gaze back to the host stand in front of me when my attention catches onto something a couple of tables behind it. Or shall I say, someone.

“Holy shit.”

She’s beautiful. No, that’s not good enough of a description. She’s… she’s… wow…

I can’t take my eyes off her even if I tried, and honestly, I don’t want to. She’s breathtaking. All I can do is watch her, my heart rate accelerating just from the sight of her.

From where I stand, I get the perfect profile view of her, from the top of her head all the way down to thigh-high black stiletto boots, one leg crossed over the other. A messy bun sits atop her head, multiple tendrils falling out. The term is messy, yet it looks utterly elegant on her.

A burgundy halter-neck dress stretches out over generous breasts, with lean shoulders on display. The dress continues to flow down over what looks like delicious curves before resting a couple of inches above the top of her boots, giving a glimpse of creamy porcelain skin.

She’s currently hunched over the table, completely absorbed in the menu that lies flat against the tablecloth. One arm rests on the table along the underside of her breasts, while the other sits freely over her thigh, fully ignorant to the fact my focus is solely on her.

She removes her hand from her thigh and reaches up with a dainty hand, crimson nail polish along the tips of her fingernails, and tucks a loose strand of rich chocolate-colored hair that had fallen in her line of sight behind her ear.

Her plump bottom lip sticks between her teeth as she goes over the dishes with uncertainty. The hand used to tuck her hair back now lies delicately at the bottom of her slender neck.

God, do I wish that was my hand resting against her neck while she...

“All right! Sorry for the wait. Is there somewhere specific you’d like to be seated? I have a table in the back that’s more secluded.”

I’m pulled out of my train of thought by the hostess watching me with that smile on her face again. It takes me a few seconds to register her words as I try to look around her—to the beauty at the table.

I need to talk to her. I need her to look at me and see that pouty mouth turn into a smile. But how?

In that instant, an idea pops into my head that will likely solve all my current problems. “No need, I was looking for someone and just spotted her. But thank you, Madison.”

Her face turns to a scowl, clear anger written on her overly made-up face. “It’s Alex.”

I wince at her words and offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

And with that, I walk past her into the busy restaurant and straight toward the beautiful brunette in red. With the craziest plan I have possibly ever come up with in mind. Which says a lot, since I’m known to do crazy things.