Page 1 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #2)

Chapter One

E rica

“Looking good, sexy.” A dirty yet handsome construction worker in the middle of the road lets out a low wolf whistle and gives me an exaggerated wink.

His two buddies start laughing as he wags his tongue, and I’m about to respond politely with a flattered but not interested response when I notice the tall, skinny woman walking right next to me.

“Hey, Red, does the carpet match the drapes?” He cackles and high-fives his friend.

The light-pink blush on my face is turning to a deep red as I realize with embarrassment that I’m not the sexy woman that he’s talking to.

“Men, right?” I smile at the statuesque beauty next to me, and she just rolls her eyes and continues typing something on her phone.

She couldn’t care less about the compliments coming her way.

My eyes turn to look at her furtively again, and I notice that her long red hair is silky and straight, her blouse a tight-fitting white, and her skirt…

well, her skirt barely exists. Yeah, they were definitely talking to her and not me.

I’m wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and an oversized navy blue Columbia University sweater. My dark hair is in a messy bun on top of my head, and I’m wearing my thick black librarian-esque glasses. I don’t know what part of me thought the hunky construction worker would be interested in me.

“Sexy, what’s your number?” He calls after her, and I attempt to make another attempt to converse with my walking mate.

“Guess he’s really into you!” I say, and she looks up to me for a few moments before shrugging.

“I’m a model. Every man is into me.” She looks me up and down and then back at her phone. I feel annoyed by her dismissive look, but I keep my mouth closed. Though I want to tell her that she's not all that.

I cross the street at the intersection and fall into step behind the crowd of tourists that are likely headed to Times Square to admire the bright lights and moving ads.

I love living in New York City, but sometimes the throngs of people annoy me.

Like today. The family I’m walking behind seems to be from the land of the slow and annoying.

If they stop dead one more time in front of me, I will scream.

I increase my pace and pass them and head towards Broadway.

I’m hoping to score tickets to Othello, and I know that the line is already long because I’ve seen some photos on Instagram with a line stretching around the corner from the theater.

I feel my phone vibrating in my back pocket, and I pull it out, smiling when I see that it’s my best friend, Sabrina.

“Hey, chica, what are you up to?” I ask her as I make my way to the end of the long line of people hoping to score one of the sold-out tickets.

“I just got back from lunch with my mom. She’s reading a book that she is recommending for publication and was excited about it.

” She pauses, and I can hear someone in the background talking to her.

I am pretty sure I recognize the voice. “Sorry, that was Wes. He was just telling me he’s taking Bruno out on a walk. ”

"It's amazing to me that my big brother is so domesticated now.

" I hold in a laugh as I think about my brother picking up dog poop.

My brother, who said he'd never get a dog.

I suppose a miracle has happened, and now he's a dog lover, but I know that has to do with the fact that he loves Sabrina.

And I can't fault him for that. I was overjoyed that my best friend was now dating my brother, but that didn't mean it didn't suck that I was now living the single life without her.

"You're telling me." Sabrina giggles in happiness, and I realize that since she's started dating Wes, she seems so much lighter now. "I still remember the grump he was when we were younger. I guess Bruno softened his heart."

"I think it was a certain blonde that softened his heart."

"So did you think about moving in with Wes for a little bit?

" she asks, sounding hopeful. Now that we've graduated and moved out of the dorms, I have three options of places to live: with my parents, with Miles, or with Wes.

My parents don't want me living alone until I have a job that can pay the bills, and my future trust doesn't count.

I find it terribly annoying, but I'm not in a position to argue right now.

"I don't know. I feel like I'll be the third wheel.

" The thought of watching Sabrina and Wes kissing all the time doesn't excite me.

Technically, Sabrina doesn't "live" with Wes officially yet, as she's moved most of her stuff to her mom's new apartment, but she spends almost every night with Wes and Bruno.

"You know you won't be. Please. It will be so much fun."

"Maybe it will be."

"And we'll be able to record the podcast at any time, day or night, and maybe we'll even get picked up for syndication," she says dramatically. "Imagine you and me at the podcast awards! How cool would that be?"

"I guess it would be kinda cool." I feel a stirring of excitement swell up in me.

It's not like I don't want to live with Sabrina and live our best lives.

I'd just imagined we'd be all Sex in the City and going out to bars and flirting with handsome strangers and winding up in dives where we had to flee at three in the morning.

But that's not about to happen. I know my brother, and there's no way he's letting me or her go out anywhere by ourselves past nine p.m. He wouldn’t care how trendy the establishment was. "I'll think about it."

I'm about to ask Sabrina how her newly found sister Sadie was doing when I feel someone behind me hitting me with their bag, and I twist my neck to glare at them.

The bag hits me again, and I get ready to shout when my brown eyes meet with his dazzling blue eyes.

Then I notice the perfect white teeth and the handsome face.

"Hey, Sabrina, let me call you back." I hang up and stare at the guy’s gym bag.

"Sorry, did I hit you?" he asks, showcasing two perfect dimples. Two perfect dimples that seem to send Cupid's arrow straight through my heart. As I stand there gazing at the handsome blond man, I wonder to myself, Is this it? Is this the moment I will remember for the rest of my life?

"You did." I nod and rub my lower back, trying not to stare at the man's muscles.

He's built, but not in that stocky, bodybuilder way.

He is tall and all lean muscle, and I couldn't help but notice that his shirt and pants fit him like a glove.

All of a sudden, I wish that I'd made an effort with my appearance today.

Or at least put on some makeup. I suddenly remember what my mother always said to me when I was younger, "Never leave the house in something you wouldn't want to be photographed in.

" Sigh! I guess it's true that mothers always know best.

"I apologize. I was distracted." He shifts his bag back over his shoulder and gives me a wide smile.

For a few moments, I think he's going to say he was distracted by my beauty, and my heart races.

"I was looking at ESPN. They're talking about the New York Lightning team.

" He grimaces. "I suppose you heard about how poorly they did during last night’s game. "

"No, I'm afraid not. I don't watch baseball."

"Baseball?"

"I mean basketball."

"Still no." He grins.

"Football?" I groan as he shakes his head again.

I'm slightly embarrassed by my complete and utter lack of knowledge of all things sports.

You'd think I'd be an expert with two older brothers.

Wes and Miles would be so ashamed of me if they could hear this conversation.

"I give up. I don't know any more sports teams. Wait, golf? "

"They have golf teams?" He chuckles, and as he laughs, his golden blond hair falls forward in front of his eyes. How is this man so picture-perfect hot?

"Maybe not? Okay, don't keep me in suspense. What sort of team are the New York Lightning?"

"Ice hockey." He stares into my eyes, his blue gaze intense.

I try not to shudder at my distaste as he mentions hockey.

There's only one hockey player I know, and that's Tyler Kane, one of Wes's best friends and the star player of the team.

I can't believe I forgot the name of the team he played for, but maybe I'd buried it in my subconscious because I couldn't stand the guy.

Not that I knew much about him, other than the fact that he was a jerk.

I'd never met him until a couple of months ago, when he had spilled a drink all over me at a bar.

It had been a mistake, but I still didn't forgive him.

Mainly because of his smug smirk and the look he'd given me, and then the guy I'd gone on a few dates with had dumped me before we could even get started.

"You do know what hockey is, right?" Blond hottie asks with such shock in his voice that I wonder if he's being patronizing or if he thinks I'm that slow.

"Yeah, I've heard of it." I decide not to tell him I know the star player. I don't even want to think about that douche canoe. "You're into hockey?"

"You could say that." He clears his throat. "I'd love to be in sports because they make a lot of money, but unfortunately, I don't have a pot to piss in. I'll have to find me a sugar mama."