Page 37

CHAPTER 37

DALLAS

I ’ve always loved a night out after a win. There’s nothing better than celebrating with the guys, especially a win we had to work for right up until the final siren. But tonight is different. Dressed in my favorite custom Gucci game day suit and my very best Stetson, tonight I’m not just tagging along with the guys to some place I don’t really want to go to, just so they can meet their wives or girlfriends. Tonight, I’m not looking to score with some random chick who pretends to know anything about who I am or what the hell hockey is. Tonight, I’m going with the guys to meet their wives and girlfriends, and for the first time, there’s a girl there waiting for me. And I could not be fucking happier.

Hello, the name is Whipped—Mr. Pussy Whipped.

I follow the guys off the elevator and out to the swanky rooftop bar that, thankfully, is dotted with heaters and open fires because it’s fucking freezing in New York City right now. The place is packed full of people, drinks are flowing, and a low thrum of bass plays throughout, all set to a pretty awesome backdrop of the Midtown Manhattan skyscrapers lit up around us, the Empire State Building illuminated right there like a centerpiece .

A hostess leads us to the far corner, where there’s a bunch of women occupying a booth and a few high-top tables cornered off with a velvet rope. The moment I spot Emily, sitting at the far table with Fran, Hannah, and Alex Henry’s wife, Cass, I stand back and watch her a moment. Fuck, she looks sexy. A jean shirt she’s wearing as a goddamn dress that makes my dick twitch to life, and sheer black tights with a pair of bad-ass biker looking boots. She’s oblivious to me, throwing her head back and laughing at something Cass says, her smile taking my breath away, and I feel my heart hitch in my chest because the sight of her there, talking and laughing with my teammates’ girls, is doing something to me. Something I wasn’t prepared for. This moment right now is what I didn’t know I’ve been missing the last few years, but it’s here, and it’s everything.

As if she can sense my eyes on her, Emily’s gaze flits to the side, immediately finding mine, and when she flashes me that shy smile, it feels as if everything around us fades into the night, and it’s suddenly just the two of us.

Robbie and I approach the table, and Fran practically pounces on my teammate, groping him, kissing him, almost dry-humping the guy right in front of me and anyone else who cares to see. I chuckle, hiding my smirk behind my hand, meeting Emily’s gaze again, and I can tell by the slight glaze in her eyes that she’s a little tipsy, and it’s taking all I have to keep my cool when all I really want to do is walk straight up to her, cup her cheeks and kiss the hell out of her. I know I can’t do that. Not here. Not tonight. Not until we’re official. But man, the need is strong.

“Hey, Dallas!” Fran says, as if she’s just noticed I’m standing right here. Glancing back over her shoulder at Emily, she looks at me again with a wink. “You can take my seat…”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I grin, slapping Robbie on his shoulder as I walk around him and to the only available stool right next to my girl.

“Evening, ladies,” I say with a tip of my hat, taking a seat .

Emily sits a up a little straighter, smiling at me.

“Hey, Dallas!” Cassidy grins. “Great game tonight. Another shutout.” She holds up her wineglass in cheers.

“Thanks, Cass.” I nod, reaching under the table and placing my hand on Emily’s thigh as I do. Emily’s gaze darts to me, and I see her skin prick, her chest hitch.

“Dallas,” she chides lowly, looking around to make sure no one is watching.

“It’s all good, baby,” I whisper lowly.

Her shoulders relax some, and she uncrosses her legs. I scoot a little closer to her, resting my chin on my fist as my other hand explores beneath the cover of the tabletop. Tights aren’t ideal, but I can still feel her sexy thighs, feel the heat of her pussy as she parts her legs just a touch more.

“Hey, man, got you a beer!”

I start, turning to see Logan right fucking there, leaning on the table next to me like that’s where he’s staying for the foreseeable future. I glance sideways at Emily, rolling my eyes as I reluctantly remove my hand from where it belongs.

“Thank you,” I say, probably more than a little sarcastically but honestly, come on. Isn’t there a pretty little puck bunny floating around he can move in on?

Logan’s gaze flits from me to Emily, curiosity evident in his eyes, and that’s when I realize he hasn’t met her yet.

“Logan, this is Emily.”

“Hey.” He juts his chin, reaching around me to shake her hand.

“Emily… works with Andy Hoffman,” I say, when what I really want to say is she’s the woman I’m in love with, but I know I can’t. I glance at Emily and smile. “This is Logan.”

Emily shakes his hand. “Good game tonight.”

“Thanks.” He grins.

We sit there in silence, and I spot Happy across the rooftop, dirty dancing with a scantily clad blonde. I will Logan to get the hint and to go over to join his partner in crime, but of course, he doesn’t, pulling up a stool and sitting down, sipping his beer in a contemplative silence. It seems if I want time alone with my girl, I’m going to have to work for it, so I slap Logan’s arm as I stand.

“Let’s go do the rounds,” I say, picking up my beer and flashing Emily a look I hope she understands as I’ll be back as soon as I’ve gotten rid of him . Thankfully, she offers me a quick nod, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

It takes a good twenty minutes to finally ditch Logan, going out of my way to wingman for the guy because apparently he’s lost his touch when it comes to the ladies. Honestly, I’m disappointed because have I taught these men nothing? I ended up finding him a cute little brunette who apparently studies dance at Juilliard, and now they’re sitting together in an out of the way booth, talking quietly with one another.

On my way back through the crowded bar toward our VIP, I’m stopped suddenly when I feel a hand on my ass. I spin around with a knowing smirk, expecting to see Emily, but when I’m met with an unfamiliar brunette, I take a step back, glowering down at the woman because since when is it okay to go around grabbing peoples’ asses?

“Sorry!” She holds her hands up in the air with a playful giggle. “I thought you remembered me.”

My brows draw together. Sure, she looks familiar, but in my defense, I’ve slept with probably a good twenty-percent of all single, straight women aged twenty-two to thirty in this city, and they all start to look the same after a while.

“It’s me.” She points at herself. “Talia.” Her smile remains, but it starts to look a little strained the longer it takes me to register. “From Hoboken.”

“Oh, hey.” For the record, I don’t remember her. At all. But maybe if I pretend, she might finally give up and fuck off.

“I was hoping I’d see you again,” Talia says with a suggestive smile, stepping so close I can feel her tits press up against me. “I gave you my number but you never called. ”

I clear my throat, looking around for what, I don’t even know. Where the fuck is Happy when you need him?

“So, what are you doing here tonight?” she asks, dragging her finger down my chest, my stomach. “I know you’re not usually up for a round two, but I’m here, you’re here, maybe we could leave here… together.” She bites down on her glossy bottom lip, arching a brow at me.

I take another step back. “Um, actually, I?—”

“Oh, sorry…”

My blood runs cold at the sound of the familiar voice of an angel coming from over my shoulder, and I spin around to see Emily standing right there, her expression void of any kind of emotion as she looks from me to Talia and back again.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I open my mouth to say something, but before I can get a single word out, the ghost of hookups past interjects.

“Well, you did…” Talia mutters, and I’m about ready to tell her where she can fuck right off to, but again, before I can get my words out, Emily steps around us, her lips pressed together in the semblance of a tight smile that doesn’t meet her eyes as she continues in the direction of the bathrooms.

“So, anyway,” Talia prompts, stepping back up to me and placing her hand on my belt. “Where were we?”

As calmly as I can, I remove her hand and take a step back. “Sorry, I have a girlfriend.”

She snorts unattractively. “A girlfriend ?”

I nod without missing a beat.

She pops her hip, placing a hand on it. “But you said you don’t do girlfriends.” She uses her fingers in an attempt to quote me. And I mean, it sounds like something the old me would’ve said, so I let it slide.

“Yeah, well—” I remove my hat to run a hand through my hair, replacing it again as I continue, “Things change.”

Talia guffaws, gawking at me incredulously. “Dallas Shaw… in love? ”

I nod again.

“Aren’t you the guy that’s fucked, liked, over five-hundred women?”

“Yep.” I pop my p, because frankly, this chick is starting to piss me off.

She offers a derisive scoff, shaking her head, and without another word, she spins on her stiletto heels and walks off in a huff. I turn and hurry in the direction of the bathrooms, because I know exactly what that just looked like, and I need to look Emily in her eyes when I tell her it was nothing. Once upon a time it was something, but not anymore, and never again will it ever be anything.