Page 131 of Twisted Play

“Gin and tonic,” I said.

Tristan tugged me to the back of the bar where the team celebrated their win, weaving in and out of players until he reached a corner booth with a round table. Massi and Haruto both sat there, along with three stunning women I recognized from my time at the arena. Puck bunnies.

“Make some space,” Tristan grunted. They scooted in, leaving just enough room for him. One of the women draped over Haruto eyed Tristan. She moved over a little bit, though not enough for more than one of us to sit.

Haruto’s gaze darted between Tristan and me, and he jerked his head at the woman. “Up, McKayla,” he said.

“But—”

“Now,” he snapped.

Pouting, she slid out of the booth and glared at me, as if it were my decision. Tristan slid in and settled me on the end beside him, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

“Good game,” Massi said.

Tristan grinned. “Great way to start out the season.”

A moment later, Cole appeared with a beer bottle and two cocktails. He scowled when he realized there was no room at the table for him.

Tristan hauled me into his lap, settling me on his right thigh, my back to Haruto beside him, my legs dangling between his so Cole could slide into my abandoned spot. Cole growled his displeasure, and Tristan swung my legs up over his, so my boot-clad feet rested in Cole’s lap. I lost my balance and grabbed at Tristan’s neck to hold myself steady.

My cheeks heated when Cole wrapped one hand around my ankles, holding me in place. With Tristan’s arm on my back and my arm around his shoulders, we couldn’t hide the intimacy of our position. Cole handed me my drink and Tristan, his beer.

“To winning,” he said, raising his glass in a toast.

“Fuck yeah,” Tristan agreed. We all clinked our drinks together over the table.

“I can’t believe you actually came out,” Haruto said, shaking his head and grinning at Cole. “She’s good for you.”

Cole’s fingers tightened around my ankles, the muscles of his legs tensing under my calves, but he didn’t say anything.

“You don’t party with the team?” I asked him, curious.

“He’s too good for us this year,” Massi sneered.

“Hey,” I snapped. “You invited him. Be nice.”

Cole’s fingers loosened their grip, his thumb making long, slow sweeps over the side of my calf, the motion utterly distracting.

Tristan leaned forward to nuzzle my neck, but I kept my gaze on Massi, who frowned and then nodded, raising his beer to Cole. “Two goals today—that was good work.” He looked at Tristan. “And one from you.”

“It was a fuckin’ blowout,” Haruto added. “Shame theygot that one in at the last minute—it’d have been a shut out otherwise.”

I relaxed into Tristan’s arms. “Such a good fucking girlfriend, standing up for him,” he murmured into my ear as the men talked hockey.

“Why didn’t you?” I murmured back.

“He’d never forgive me for saying something—it’d make him feel weak. He doesn’t party with the team after games because he doesn’t drink anymore. That’s sparkling water in his glass.”

I didn’t like myself for hating seeing Cole cut down to size. I didn’t like the instinct to comfort him. And I especially didn’t like that Tristan noticed. But the fact that Cole would let me defend him when he wouldn’t let anyone else? What the fuck was this weird pressure in my chest?

My phone buzzed, and I continued to ignore it. A minute later, Rory waltzed up to our table.

“Eva!”

I tried to climb out of Tristan’s lap to give her a hug, but his arms tightened around me.

Massi stood, towering over her. “What are you doing here?” he asked her, his voice low.