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M y car beeps behind me as I walk into the venue. I button my black suit jacket, adjust my sleeves over my watch and pull open the doors. I am glad that my face has healed completely since my altercation with Hastings last month. This is not the night for my face to look beat up. Casino Night has always been one of my favorite nights of the year. I love anything that our foundation does to give back to the community. They always put on a great event for the community and I like how we have some time to be the dealers and interact with our fans.

The only thing different about tonight is that I wish I had someone by my side. I am sick of going to these things alone. But I don’t want to take just anyone with me–that would definitely send the wrong message, and I don’t want one of the many ice girls I’ve hooked up with to get any funny ideas.

Speaking of ice girls, I was so pissed the other night when Alison just stopped by. I had no idea she was coming over. I mean, I guess I am not surprised. That’s always been our arrangement. Just show up if we wanted to hook up. Brooke looked so pissed-off and the scary thing about Brooke being pissed-off this time around was that I actually cared that she was pissed-off at me. Something definitely shifted inside of me that night in Brooke’s kitchen. The feeling that occupied my body took me back to the day we first met. The tension between us has changed. There’s still tension, but not out of hate. It’s something else.

The venue looks great with all the tables set up. Pop-up bars are set up around the room. There are tables lined up along one of the back walls with all the prizes and giveaways. I decided to anonymously offer up my property in Telluride for a weekend within the next month or so. I have been meaning to go back soon. Maybe after the season ends, which hopefully isn’t until mid-June. I want that Stanley Cup so bad. I haven’t had my hands on that trophy in almost a decade. I lucked out and won with Boston my rookie year and a couple years ago with the Storm and honestly took it for granted. I was young and foolish and didn’t realize how rare it is to be a champion. It’s the hardest trophy to win. I have a feeling that this is our year. We have a good mix of veteran guys and young players who keep us on our toes, so I think we have a legit shot.

Unfortunately, the only teammate that I cannot stand walks in right behind me. He stands next to me and nods. “Lawson.”

“Hastings,” I respond curtly. If Brooke does end up coming tonight with Tess, he isn’t coming anywhere near Brooke. I am getting an overwhelming sense of protectiveness toward her. “What, couldn’t lock down a date to this thing? Women found out what an asshole you are?”

“I could say the same thing about you. I guess Alison didn’t want to be seen with the team’s playboy in public.”

I shoot him a glare. Fucking Alison. I knew she would talk to everyone about our hookups.

“That’s right, Lawson. Everyone knows that you two are fuck buddies.”

“At least I’m getting some, man.” I don’t tell him that five minutes after Brooke ran off, I turned Alison down and told her I don’t want this kind of relationship with her. I don’t want to do random hookups anymore. It is getting old and I am honestly getting tired of the playboy reputation. Sure, it’s helped me a little in my endorsement deals and various photoshoots, but personally, I always felt a little ashamed that my family would see those headlines and think I treated women poorly, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.

People are starting to trickle in, including Bradley and Jen. “Hey did you know that Brooke is coming?”

My heart starts to race at the mention of Brooke’s name. I try my best to play it off as smoothly as possible.

“Um, I think she said that she was coming with her friend, Tess.”

“I’m glad that she’s getting out of the house,” Jen says. “She would probably be at home watching the latest episode of the Spring Baking Championship – which, don’t get me wrong, I love watching that and recapping it with her, but she needs to dress up and come out to events like this every once in a while.”

“Do you know when she is coming?” I say, almost with a panicked voice.

“Why, so you can go and hide? Gosh you guys just need to bury the hatchet one of these days.”

If Jen would have asked me that question a few weeks ago, it would have been yes to go hide. But now it wasn’t an “avoid Brooke at all costs” feeling. I wasn’t trying to think of ways to get Brooke to give me her “death glare” (a glare that has become one of my favorite looks of hers. I don’t know how to explain it, but it is the cutest death glare around). Rather, my panic comes from a “I can’t wait to see her” feeling. My body is aching for her to touch me.

“Not hiding,” I say. “Just wondering. Let’s go get something to drink.”

We all head over to one of the bars and order our drinks – whiskey neats for me and Brad, gin and tonic for Jen.

“So,” Brad says, “you ready to schmooze a bunch of fancy foundation members and convince them to donate more money?”

“Ready as always.”

“Speaking of, there’s the president of the foundation. I’ll see you around.” Bradley and Jen make their way towards the president of the Dallas Storm Foundation. I’ll definitely have to make my rounds at some point. That’s one of the “perks” of being a high profile player–having to kiss everyone’s ass so everything is on the up-and-up. I probably have to go over there at some point and apologize for what happened the other night and guarantee that it won’t happen ever again. Even though I wouldn’t think twice of doing it again.

Now it’s just me and Hastings left standing together. More people trickle into the venue and I can’t help but try and spot a bright bubblegum pink dress. Knowing Brooke, she’s probably wearing a fucking knotted headband to this fancy event. I take a swig of my whiskey and let it burn the back of my throat.

Maybe she decided not to come. That will make my night that much easier. I can focus on what I have to do. I avert my eyes for a second and then I hear:

“Holy shit. Is that Brooke?”

It is Brooke. And she is not in a bubblegum pink dress. It is the complete opposite. She is wearing a dress that makes me want to fall to my fucking knees and worship every inch of her. It is black with a lace see-through bustier and a slit that practically shows off all of her left leg. I have never seen her in anything that is not pastel colored or without a headband in her hair. Her hair is a sleek low bun and she is wearing long earrings that point to her exposed neck and cleavage. She needs to wear corsets on a daily basis. She looks fucking beautiful. She can’t know that, though. She would flee if she could hear my inner thoughts right now. I have to pretend that I hate the way she looks.

“The bet is still on for the captain’s spot right, Lawson? You weren’t serious about calling it off, right? Because I am about to lock that down tonight. I can’t wait to take that dress off her.” Hastings downs the rest of his whiskey and taps the bartop, indicating he wants another. He better keep his shit together tonight. We don’t want to draw any more negative attention to ourselves. Even though I am holding back another punch to his face for even thinking he is going to lay a hand on Brooke tonight.

Like hell are we going through with this bet.

It’s over.

“Actually Hastings, I was serious when I said this bet is off. You aren’t going near her and I am never endorsing you for captain. Ever.”

“Bet or no bet, I am still going home with Brooke tonight. Have fun tonight, Lawson. I know I certainly will.”

Now all my hate has zeroed in on Hastings and his master plan to break Brooke’s rule. She would never, though. It’s her one unbreakable rule.

Shit, she is coming over here. Now it’s my turn to down the rest of my whiskey and ask for another. I can see Tess, who is actually wearing a hot pink dress, dragging Brooke over to where we are standing. Brooke’s eyes are wide and I can see her mouth say, “No, no, no.” I glance over at Dean and I recognize the look in his eyes–hungry. He’s practically undressing her with his damn eyes. I can’t blame him, though. I am doing the same fucking thing.

“Well, hello gentlemen!” Tess says in a sing-song voice. “Don’t you two look dapper this evening. Y’all clean up nice for a night off the ice. Much better than those sweaty uniforms and helmets.”

I am trying not to stare at the unbearably gorgeous Brooke standing next to her, but I can’t help myself. Brooke is fucking perfect. I’ve never seen this side of her and damn it, now that I know she has two sides to her, I don’t want to go back to only seeing her as the bubbly (well to everyone else but me) kindergarten teacher who wears pastel colors like it’s going out of style. Her signature look has been replaced for the night. She’s flipped the script and it’s a whole different power play than I am used to.

“Thanks beautiful, you two look gorgeous as always,” Dean says. But his eyes are glued on Brooke. Well, more on her damn tits. I hate this guy. She blushes a little at Dean and I want to pummel him all over again. This time we are on solid ground and I know for a fact that I could kick his ass even more than I did the other night.

She bites her bottom lip slightly and it gets me hard immediately. Calm down, Tristan. Think of something to distract you from those lips. You never cared about her damn lips before. Why do you care now?

Because Dean fucking wants her and I can’t let that happen.

“What will it be for you ladies?”

“Two palomas please. Right, Brooke?”

Brooke finally looks me directly in my eyes. Her lips part slightly and she scans my body. I am gripping my glass like it’s my lifeline, which let’s be honest, it is right now. Focusing on grasping my glass distracts me from what I really want to do: drag her out of this venue so no other man can look at her. I can’t do that though…for a multitude of reasons. She clears her throat and finally says, “Uh yeah, sounds good.”

“Hey Tristan!” Bradley calls from a nearby table. He is waving me over. Apology time, I guess.

“Um, I better go talk with the president of the foundation.” Brooke’s eyes flutter as she looks down, almost like she is disappointed? “I’ll see you ladies at the blackjack tables…Tess, nice to see you again.” Then I give my former nemesis the smallest acknowledgement, “Brooke.” I have to save face and try to go back to hating this woman because that is the only thing that is calming my dick down right now. It’s not the time to tell her the truth–that I don’t hate her.

That I’ve never hated her.