5. Eva

Five

Eva

The lodge’s main event hall is every bit as luxurious as the rest of the property. The warm lighting, glittering holiday decor, and soft hum of conversation make it feel like a scene straight out of a Holiday movie.

I glance down at my emerald green wrap dress and adjust the neckline for the hundredth time. Emily swore it was perfect for tonight—“sexy but not over-the-top”—but standing here surrounded by women in gowns that probably cost more than my rent, I feel very out of place.

“Stop pulling at your dress,” Emily scolds, appearing at my side like a glamorous fairy godmother. Her golden gown shimmers under the lights, and she looks freaking amazing. And I wish I could blend into the wallpaper.

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, smoothing the fabric again. “You look like you just stepped off a runway.”

“So do you.” She gives me a knowing smirk. “A runway where the theme is curves and confidence.”

I snort. “Confidence is not currently part of the package.”

“It will be after you chill out,” she teases. “Plus, you already have a very interested audience.”

I freeze. “What?”

She tilts her head to the far end of the room. “Don’t look now, but Eli’s been staring since we walked in.”

My head snaps up instinctively, and sure enough, there he is. Standing near the bar, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that does nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders or the sheer power he exudes. His dark eyes are locked on me, his expression unreadable but intense.

“Emily…” I drag out her name, my heart racing.

“Relax,” she says, clearly enjoying herself. “He’s harmless. Well, off the ice, anyway.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It should. He’s a good guy. Quiet, intense, but good. Liam says he’s all business and no distractions, but—” She nudges me with her elbow. “Seems like you might be the exception.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the way my skin heats under Eli’s gaze. “He’s probably just wondering what I’m doing here.”

“Uh-huh,” Emily says, her voice dripping with skepticism. “Sure.”

I shake my head and take a larger sip of my drink, hoping it’ll help me relax. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

* * *

I manage to avoid Eli for most of the evening, sticking close to Emily and her circle of girlfriends. I’m surprised to find out they’re nice. Which is stupid because Em wouldn’t hang out with them if they were bitches. Their stories of life with professional athletes are hilarious, and I start to relax. But not entirely.

Because I keep feeling the weight of Eli’s gaze on me.

Eventually, Emily gets pulled away by Liam, leaving me alone near the dessert table. I grab a macaron, determined to look busy, when a deep, familiar voice makes me freeze.

“You’re avoiding me.”

I turn to find Eli standing impossibly close, his towering frame blocking out the rest of the room. His dark suit makes him look even more imposing, and the intensity in his eyes makes my stomach flip. The man’s like fucking Bruce Wayne on steroids.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I lie, popping the macaron into my mouth to avoid saying anything else.

His sculpted lips twitch, not quite a smile but enough to make my pulse race. “You’ve barely looked at me all night.”

“Maybe I didn’t notice you,” I say, my voice edging toward defensive.

He raises a thick, inky eyebrow, his heated gaze dropping to my lips, before slowly dragging back up to my eyes. “You noticed me.”

My heart stammers in my chest, and I curse my body for betraying me. Eli takes a small step closer, crowding my space without touching me, and suddenly the air feels impossibly thin.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” he rumbles.

“What question?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he’s talking about.

He leans in, just enough that his breath brushes against my skin. “If you’d ask me to stay.”

My throat tightens, and for a second, I can’t think of a single clever thing to say. This man is way too much—too intense, too close, too hot…

“I wouldn’t,” I manage, my voice is barely above a whisper.

“Liar,” he purrs, his lips curving into something dark,and dangerously sexy.

Before I can respond, someone calls his name from across the room, breaking whatever spell he’s cast over me. Eli straightens, his expression returning to its unreadable mask, but his eyes stay locked on mine.

“Enjoy your evening, Eva,” he says in a softer voice.

Then he’s gone, leaving me standing there with my heart racing, my panties ruined, and my nipples hard-as-fucking-rock. My hands trembling around an empty glass.

* * *

After the reception, I’m back in my room, pacing in front of the fireplace.

Eli Jackson is… it doesn’t matter. I’m not here for any of that typa shit. I’m here to enjoy a fun holiday weekend, and maybe find some inspiration for my manuscript. That’s it.

So why does he keep popping into my head? Why can I still feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of his words? Goddammit.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. This is ridiculous. I’ve got a book to finish, and getting tangled up with some brooding hockey player isn’t going to help me hit my deadline.

No matter how good the man looks in a suit.