Page 3
CHAPTER 3
North
T he post-game rush at Mario’s is already in full swing when I walk in. The bar is packed, sizzling with energy as Titans fans relive the highlights of our win over the Phantoms. The neon signs above the bar cast colorful reflections on the polished wood, and the scent of burgers and wings wafts through the air. This place is as familiar as the rink—both a sanctuary and a spectacle all at the same time. Of course, I have no clue what the atmosphere is like after games we lose since we only come here to celebrate our victories with the fans.
I glance toward the roped-off VIP section in the back, something the owners had set up for the team when it became the go-to hangout after many games. Wanting to encourage our attendance for the fans but provide us with a quiet spot to relax, we can have some privacy after making rounds for photos and autographs.
Most of the significant others and family members are here as the players start to trickle in. And there she is.
Farren .
She’s leaning against a small table, laughing at something Brittany, Willa’s sister, says. She looks sexy as hell in ripped jeans, knee-high boots and a small Titans jersey that I’m betting has her own last name but her brother’s number. She’s simply fucking stunning, an opinion I’ve had from the moment I met her on her first visit to see her brother play for his new team. That was three months ago, and I don’t know if absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it sure makes me even more attracted to her.
I tear my gaze away and head to the bar, ordering a beer from one of the bartenders slinging drinks as fast as they can for the post-game rush. I barely take a sip of my draft before a tap on my shoulder pulls me around.
“North! Can I grab a picture with you?”
The fan, a guy probably in his twenties, looks hopeful as he clutches his phone. Before I can even respond, his buddy is beside him, holding a Titans hat and a Sharpie.
“Make it out to Mike?”
I smile politely, keeping my tone light. “Sure thing.”
I sign the hat, pose for the photo, and am about to head toward the VIP section when two more fans approach. Then two more.
It’s like trying to skate uphill.
Every few moments, I glance toward Farren. She’s still chatting with Brittany and Willa, a casual confidence in her posture that’s hard to look away from.
A little girl tugs on my shirt sleeve, and I glance down to see dimples and missing front teeth. Her dad stands behind her, hand on her tiny shoulder clad in a Titans jersey that I see bears my number.
Christ, that’s humbling when little girls are your fans, and I forget all about Farren for a few glorious moments as I squat down to chat with the tiny cutie. I sign her jersey, pose for photos, promise her that she can be a hockey player when she grows up. When they finally amble off, I look back to the VIP area, ready to make my approach, except now Farren’s gone.
A faint surge of disappointment hits me, and I scan the area. Where’d she go? Did she leave before I could talk to her?
I’m pulled by another touch to my arm and I turn to find a woman standing close, her smile as suggestive as her outfit—a Titans jersey worn as a dress, cinched at the waist with a belt, and thigh-high boots that make her legs look impossibly long. While it’s sexy as hell, it’s inappropriate given the snowy weather outside. But I suppose beauty is pain. Her red lipstick is immaculate, and her platinum-blond hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that arcs upward, then falls to her mid-back in a froth of curls.
She slides a finger down my forearm. “You were amazing tonight. ”
“Thanks,” I say with a genuine smile but keep my response neutral, even as she bats her lashes.
“Can I get a selfie?” She waves her phone already in hand. She steps closer, angling herself beside me. “Do you mind?”
“No problem,” I say, though my attention is elsewhere.
She tilts her head toward me, pouting her lips playfully as the camera clicks. “Is it wrong of me to notice that you’re the hottest player on the team?” she says, her voice dropping into something I think is supposed to be sultry.
I chuckle politely, trying to extricate myself. “That’s definitely a first but I’m glad you’re a fan of the game.”
Her hand tightens on my arm as I step back. “Maybe I could buy you a drink sometime?”
Before I can respond, I catch a flash of dark hair out of the corner of my eye. More than recognizing who it is, my entire being senses a ripple in the air around me.
Farren.
She’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching the interaction with a faint smirk. There’s no jealousy in her expression, just amused indifference, which somehow twists the knife a little deeper.
The blond notices my distraction and follows my gaze. “Oh,” she says, stepping back. “Looks like you’ve got company. ”
“Something like that,” I murmur, turning toward Farren as the woman disappears into the crowd.
Farren arches a brow, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re quite the ladies’ man tonight.”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess.”
She steps closer, her voice low enough so that only I can hear. “Do you even notice when someone’s throwing themselves at you? Or are you too busy signing autographs to care?”
I smirk, leaning casually against the bar. “Maybe I was too busy looking for someone else.”
Her lips curve into a knowing smile, and she tilts her head. “Smooth. I’ll give you that.”
“Where’d you go?” I ask, unable to keep the curiosity out of my voice.
“Bathroom,” she says simply. “Why? Miss me?”
“If you want to call it that,” I admit, and she snickers, the sound curling around my ribs like a tickle and I can’t help but laugh in return.
We move to the side of the bar, away from the fans and the noise. It’s still public enough to keep things casual but private enough to talk.
“So,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Spur-of-the-moment visit to see Rafferty?”
She shrugs, her gaze flicking toward the bar before settling back on me. “Needed a change of scenery. Calgary was starting to feel stifling. ”
“Interesting choice of words,” I muse. “Sounds like more than just a visit.”
“I think I’m going to stay for a bit. Besides, looks like Rafferty’s got himself mixed up in some crazy stuff with this stalker woman.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Only your brother.”
“Only Rafferty,” she agrees with a grin.
“I saw you sitting with Tempe at the game. What do you think of her?”
“She’s fabulous,” Farren says, her eyes shining. “I mean, I couldn’t make up that story if I tried, but it’s going to turn into something serious. Mark my words.”
“I think you might be right,” I agree.
“Have you spent any time with her?” she asks. “Is she as good for him as I think she might be?”
“Yeah,” I say softly, rolling around in my head all I’ve come to learn about Tempe in the few times we’ve hung out. “She’s super sweet, completely genuine. And obviously, a good sport to put up with your brother’s crazy shenanigans.”
Farren’s expression goes a little dreamy. “That’s good. I want him to be happy.”
It’s funny how that comes across. It’s almost as if she needs him to be happy and I wonder if that’s just her love for him, as I know they’re tight, or is it wishful thinking on her part for something she herself wants?
No clue the answer, but I’m curious to know more about why Farren’s here. “So, how did the family take your move to Pittsburgh?”
She waves her hand, looking slightly annoyed. “Supportive, as always. But I finally did have to come clean about breaking up with Derek this past summer.”
“I still don’t understand why you never told them,” I say with a shake of my head. “By all accounts, you’re close to your family. Why keep that a secret?”
It’s one of the first secrets Farren shared with me, because even though I was drunk when we hooked up, I was under the impression she was dating someone back in Calgary.
At least that’s what Rafferty had told me.
She assured me she had broken up with him but had not told anyone in the family because “it wasn’t all that serious to begin with.”
There’s a slight flush to her cheeks as if I’ve caught her in an embarrassing situation. “I am close to my family. So close they like to meddle and keep their expectations of me high. It was easier to keep them out of my love life if they thought I was currently occupied.”
I grin down at her. “Projecting an air of stability.”
Farren looks offended and pouts with irritation. “Why they don’t understand that a woman can be single and be happy is beyond me. Why they don’t understand I can be happy pouring drinks rather than studying in college is also beyond me. ”
I hold up a hand in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t project your annoyance at me. I think bartending is a commendable job, and well… I guess it benefited me that you aren’t seeing Derek, right?”
Something dark flickers across her face before it smooths out and I’m rewarded with a dimpled, sexy smile. “It’s definitely been a nice benefit to have the freedom to dally with you.”
I know she means the words in jest, but they sum up the essence of this woman. She wants to be free and without commitment. What we have isn’t anything more than a fling. Just two people with a light fondness toward each other and a whole lot of sexual attraction.
I can’t help the twist of disappointment that comes with that realization. I’ve never been big on casual and meaningless, but that seems to be Farren’s state of existence, which is a problem I’m unlikely to solve. I only know that I like her and she’s so fucking intriguing, I’ll take what I can get.
“Speaking of freedom,” she says, her voice dropping slightly. “Want to meet up later? Your place?”
Her words hit me like a lightning strike, and I briefly consider grabbing her hand and dragging her out of Mario’s. But before I can respond, Rafferty’s voice cuts through the noise.
“Hey, you two!”
We both turn, Farren’s expression shifting into something placid and easygoing. Rafferty strides over, a grin splitting his face. His suit jacket is slung over his shoulder, his tie loose, and his hair slightly tousled.
“We kicked ass tonight,” he says, offering me a fist to bump before bending down to kiss Farren on the cheek. His eyes meet hers and he asks, “How did Tempe and the boys like the game?”
“They were over the moon,” she assures him, and I bite back a chuckle over the satisfaction on Raff’s face. That man is falling hard for the pretty grocery store clerk.
“Good to hear,” he says, holding up a finger to the bartender for a beer.
Rafferty glances between us, his grin widening. “So, let’s have a beer here but then head back to my place for some Xbox. Atlas already said he’s in.”
I hesitate, glancing at Farren. That invitation isn’t a complete shock. The single guys—which has been whittled down to me, Rafferty and Atlas—often hang out at Raff’s house because of his Xbox. It’s typical for us to go there after a beer or two here and we’ll stay up all night, especially since we don’t have anything hockey related tomorrow other than teammate Stone Dumelin’s wedding in the evening.
Farren’s expression is unreadable but even if she was wholly disappointed, I can’t decline the invitation. Rafferty would think something was wrong, and then when his sister doesn’t come home tonight because she’s with me, he might start to put two and two together. And while I have no problem whatsoever in Rafferty finding out I’m interested in his sister, I don’t think he’d like that we’re just banging each other. He especially wouldn’t like the knowledge that’s all Farren wants and I’m just accommodating her.
Most importantly, we could never say anything because Farren wants to keep this on the sly. The mere fact that she never informed her family that she broke up with the man she was living with six months ago is telling.
“Yeah,” I say finally, beaming a smile at Rafferty. “That’s always a good time.”
“Great.” Rafferty grabs his beer, shoves money at the bartender and steps back from us. “I’m going to circulate. I’ll be ready to head out in about an hour.”
I lift my chin in acknowledgment and Rafferty spares a glance at Farren. “That okay with you? Leave in about an hour?”
I don’t think he automatically assumes she wants a ride, as she knows several of the players and their significant others and she’s hung out with them without her brother on prior visits.
As evidenced by the fact that twice we hooked up after Rafferty had gone home.
Farren nods. “Sounds great. ”
The moment he’s out of earshot, she asks in a low murmur. “Rain check?”
I meet her gaze, torn between frustration and amusement. “Guess it’ll have to be.”
“I suppose you could wait for Rafferty and Atlas to get drunk and pass out and then sneak into my room,” she says playfully.
“Yeah… not about to take the risk of your brother finding out and killing me.”
“Party pooper.” She hums and then laughs huskily. “Have fun with your bromance.”
And just like that, she’s gone, leaving me standing there, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to keep this up.