3. Braxton

Jeez. We'll be lucky if the cops don't show up tonight.

Levi hadn't been kidding when he said Coop would spread the word to the college girls about tonight's party. The house was overflowing with young girls, and I had my doubts whether most of them were of legal drinking age.

I can just see it now. Disgraced Braxton Slate, being arrested for supplying alcohol to underage girls.

My dad would love that.

The booze was set up in our barely finished basement. And by barely finished, I meant there was drywall up, but the floor was still concrete with drains visible. At least that made for an easy cleanup come morning. If I made it that long.

Half of me wanted to bail and hole up in a cheap hotel for the night just in case shit went down, but the other half knew someone had to stay and be responsible. Because Levi wasn't even around, and when he got here, I knew he wouldn't be held accountable.

That meant I was walking around with my head on a swivel, ensuring girls weren't being taken advantage of in dark rooms by the few handsy guys who'd shown up. The odds were in their favor if they were looking to hook up with a drunk chick because women outnumbered the men ten to one.

It wasn't the free booze that had brought them in; it was the three of us who lived here, and I wanted no part of it. Blake, however, was last seen disappearing with three girls into his bedroom.

I was probably the only professional athlete alive who wasn't interested in the easy hookups that came with the territory.

Whatever. To each their own.

Dragging my ass back down to the basement after a full sweep of the upper levels, I kept a watchful eye over the crowd. I might want to separate myself from Jaxon, but there was no doubt he would be doing the same thing right now. He had always been the poster boy for responsibility but was even more so now that he had a family—and a teenage daughter.

A shudder rolled through me, thinking of my niece, Amelia, attending a party like this someday. I wanted to believe she was smarter than that, but peer pressure was a powerful force. The idea of someone taking advantage of her, plying her with drinks until her inhibitions lowered—or worse, drugging her—had both fists clenching by my side.

That thought alone almost had me pulling the plug on the whole damn thing and kicking these people out of our house. It wasn't worth it.

Just as I was about to shut it down, I caught sight of a girl seated at the gaudy tiki bar along the wall. She looked so out of place that I couldn't help but stare, instantly intrigued by what she was doing here.

The first thing that tipped me off that she didn't belong was her clothing. There were two styles among the women in attendance tonight—a skintight mini-dress so short that if they moved the wrong way, they risked indecent exposure, or ripped skinny jeans paired with a barely-there sparkly top, breasts on full display. This girl, however, was in plain black leggings and an oversized Connecticut Central hoodie that extended almost to her knees.

She peered up, scanning the room, biting her lip before turning back to the bar. It was a brief glimpse of her face but enough to see she wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup. Yet another glaringly obvious difference from the rest of the girls gathered tonight.

Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, but it was plain to see she fought against natural curls—loose tendrils had escaped, framing her face.

Intrigued, I found myself drawn to her, making my way across the room.

When I got close enough, I noticed she was writing furiously on a notepad, and my temper flared.

Closing the gap between us in three long strides, I snatched the notepad away so quickly that it took a moment for her to realize it was gone as she continued to write on the bar top before turning and glaring at me.

"Hey! Give that back!" she shouted over the music, her deep blue eyes flaring.

Jaw clenched, I gritted out, "What do we have here?"

"None of your business!" Her hands reached out to snatch it from my grasp, but I raised it above my head.

She was a petite thing, so unless she wanted to climb atop the barstool she occupied, there was little chance of taking it from me.

"We'll just see about that." Turning my back on her, I glanced down at the scribbling on the page open to me.

No checking of identification at the door.

Frat party energy but with more money to burn.

Orgies behind closed doors.

Spinning around, I glared at her. "What the fuck is this? You a reporter?"

"What?" She stared at me wide-eyed. "No! Why would you think that?"

Waving the notepad in her face, I challenged, "I don't know . . . Maybe because you're taking notes. Marking down incriminating details that could be used against the people who live here."

Folding her arms against her chest, chin tilted up, she shot back, "And what's it to you? Another one of those guys on the fringe, cashing in on the success of other men? Worried you'll lose access to the free booze and accessible pussy if these barely legal parties get busted?"

Who the hell is this girl?

"Fine. If you're not a reporter, then what are you doing? Because the evidence isn't working in your favor." I wasn't backing down. Something wasn't right here, and I would get to the bottom of it. For good measure, I added, "And you certainly don't look like you belong here."

She snorted. "You can say that again."

Tearing the sheet with fresh scribblings from its bindings, I pocketed it before tossing the remaining pages onto the bar behind her. Those blue eyes dipped to the front of my jeans, and I watched the silent debate playing out on her face, trying to decide if she wanted to go in there after it.

Go ahead, sweetheart. Make my day.

When she hesitated, I pressed closer, caging her against the fake bamboo countertop. Gasping, she craned her neck to peer up at me.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Her voice was breathy, and I had to bite back a smile.

Leaning in, my chest grazed hers, and I brought my mouth beside her ear. "Why don't you be a good girl and tell me why you were taking notes at a party instead of enjoying yourself?"

A strangled noise escaped her lips, and I fought the urge to place my lips against her neck. She might be digging for dirt, but that didn't dull my attraction to her. She didn't try as hard as the other girls, and I liked that. Plus, she didn't wilt under my undivided attention.

She had a spark. And I wondered what that would look like if I stoked it into a full-blown inferno.

With how close we were, I could hear her throat muscles working as she swallowed. "I-I was doing research. I'm a writer."

Pulling back, I searched her eyes for any hint that she might be lying. "What kind of writer?"

"Fiction. I swear." Those sapphire depths never wavered. She was telling the truth.

Slightly stunned, I took a step back, confused. "What kind of fiction would require you to take notes at a house party?"

She opened those plump pink lips to respond when, suddenly, she was knocked off-kilter by a redheaded ball of energy in a blue dress.

"You came!" The redhead screeched, swaying on her feet. "I can't believe it!"

Eyeing me, the tiny brunette grumbled, "Yeah, and I'm already regretting it."

Following her line of sight, the redhead gazed over at me. Baby blue eyes that matched the color of her dress lit up in recognition.

Smirking mischievously, she declared, "I see you've met Double D."

My brows drew down, scanning her companion. Sure, her upper body was hidden beneath a baggy sweatshirt, but I'd been pressed against her chest mere moments ago, and there was no way she was sporting double Ds under there. Maybe she meant she was the designated driver. That made more sense. Especially since her friend was visibly drunk.

"Friend of yours?" I asked the brunette.

"Best friend!" The redhead replied.

"Then maybe you can vouch for your ‘best friend' who claims she was taking notes about the goings-on here tonight for research," I prompted.

Pale blue eyes widening, the redhead shouted, "Yes!" She danced to her own beat, singing, "She likes big books, and she cannot lie."

"Oh my God." The brunette groaned, covering her face.

Smiling at her embarrassment, I said, "Guess your story checks out."

Lowering her hands, the brunette peeked at me. "So, does that mean I can have the page you stole back?"

Her gaze dropped to the front of my pants, and damn if my dick didn't twitch. Folding my arms, I gave her a cheeky grin. "Stole is a pretty harsh word. Try again."

The redhead snorted. "Look at him. Using words against you. Maybe you've met your match."

Sparing her friend a brief glance, the brunette threw me a death glare before huffing, "I don't know what you want from me. Give me back my notes, and I'll leave."

She might not know it, but that sealed her fate. If giving her back the page of incriminating details meant she would walk out the door—likely forever, given her current attitude toward me—I would do anything to stop that from happening.

Taking a deep breath, I gave her what I hoped was my least cocky smile. It was evident she didn't know who I was, and that was a gift. Whatever hopes I had with this girl would be gone the second she discovered my identity.

"Tell me your name."

Blue eyes widened but she recovered from her surprise quickly. "No."

Interesting.

The music pumping through the wall-mounted speakers sparked inspiration. "Fine. How about a dance?"

Those same eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Hell no."

Before I could try for a third time, whoever was manning the sound system stopped the music mid-song, and the all-time classic song about champions blared throughout the enclosed space. I didn't need to look to know Levi was making his grand entrance.

The spitfire's redheaded companion nearly fell off her chair, and I reached out a hand to steady her. She didn't bother with a thank you before scrambling toward the basement stairs on unsteady legs.

Tilting my head in her direction, I begged the brunette, "Please tell me she's legal."

"Barely," came the muttered reply.

All eyes were on the stairs as Levi descended like he was the king of the world, flashing his championship ring as every girl clambered to get closer, to gain a piece of his attention. I was half surprised he hadn't rigged a spotlight in anticipation of his arrival.

Making his way through the crowd, he approached where I stood. And that was when I noticed the redhead in the blue dress hanging off his arm.

She hopped onto the stool next to her friend, and Levi stuck his tongue down her throat. The brunette watched them with disdain, and I wondered if this was the first time those two had hooked up.

Coming up for air, Levi trained his eyes on the brunette, smirking. "Danny. Decided to drop the nun routine and join us for once?"

Nun routine?

Under her breath, she grumbled, "Don't call me that." Then, louder, she accused, "You're late."

Levi shrugged. "Can't be late when the party doesn't start until you arrive."

Not sparing her any more attention, he resumed making out with the redhead. When he trailed his lips down her neck, he murmured, "Fuck, Coop. I've missed you."

Ah, so this was the infamous Coop.

"Nix, baby. I've been waiting so long for you," she breathed out.

The brunette shifted uncomfortably on her stool, watching the public display, which was turning more explicit by the minute. He wouldn't really fuck her in front of all these people, would he? As Levi's hand shifted beneath her skirt, I wasn't quite so sure.

Before I could pull my eyes away from what was quickly turning into a live sex show, I noticed what looked like a tracking tag affixed to Coop's dress.

Huh. Wonder what that's about.

I leaned closer to Coop's friend, offering, "Want a drink?"

She shook her head, curls bouncing atop her high ponytail. "Can't. I'm driving."

"A pop, then?" I tried again.

Chewing on her lower lip, she nodded. I led her over to the coolers in the corner, asking, "What's your poison?"

Surveying the selection, she said, "I'll take a root beer."

My eyebrows rose. I'd gotten those for me, deciding early off that I would remain sober tonight.

Reaching my hand into the ice, my fingers curled around the glass bottle. Popping the top, I handed it to . . . Danny? No, she didn't seem to like it when Levi had called her that, but she wasn't too keen on volunteering how she preferred to be addressed.

"Thanks," she said before taking a sip.

"Mind if I join you?" I gestured to another bottle in the cooler.

One shoulder rose and fell. "Sure."

Uncapping my own bottle, I pointed it in the direction of Coop and Levi. "So, your friend . . ."

Rolling her eyes, she huffed, "Don't get me started on those two."

"Not a fan?" I asked.

She scoffed loud enough to be heard over the music. "You could say that. He uses her, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Deep down, she has to know he's stringing her along, but . . ." She sighed heavily. "I think she's so caught up in what he symbolizes that she chooses to ignore it."

"And what exactly does he symbolize?" I questioned, curious as to her response.

"Status, celebrity, wealth, you name it. Why does anyone lust after professional athletes?"

Stunned, I could only stare at the girl who listed all the reasons I actively steered clear of puck bunnies.

"Doesn't that mean she's using him?" I challenged.

The brunette shook her head. "It would be if she was the only girl he was with."

I winced, recalling my earlier conversation with Levi about not being a one-woman man.

She continued, "Hell, she wasn't the only one tonight. She wasn't the one on his arm at the ceremony in front of the cameras. Tells you exactly where she stands."

"Does she know she's not the only one?"

"Yeah . . . They have an ‘open' relationship. But when I say that, it's open on his end. She's not fooling around with any other guys. If it goes on much longer, I'm afraid she'll fall for him, and I know he's going to break her heart. I"m pretty sure she thinks if she bides her time, he'll eventually see what's right in front of him and want to settle down. I don't think he has it in him."

She'd completely nailed him. Made me wonder how long he'd been stringing Coop along.

Thinking about her friend's inevitable heartbreak had her drawing in on herself, and she took a step back. Desperate to stop the spiral I saw coming, I blurted, "Was she wearing a tracking tag?"

Deep blue eyes snapped up. Then, a smile curved onto her lips for the first time that evening, and it nearly knocked me off my feet. From across the room earlier, I could tell she was pretty. But unguarded? She was beautiful.

And I didn't even know her real name.

"She tends to get blackout drunk. At least with a tracking tag, if she can't figure out where she is in the morning or loses her phone, I can find her."

I gawked at her. "Seriously? Even here?"

She shrugged. "Levi's not exactly the most responsible person. If she wanders off, I'm sure he just grabs the closest girl to warm his bed."

Unfortunately, I couldn't argue that point. Speaking of Levi, I peered over the brunette's head and saw they were no longer in a sexually compromising position. The flush on Coop's cheeks left no doubt that at least one of them had gotten off in the middle of the crowded basement.

Tilting my head in that direction, I remarked. "I think they're done."

Peeking over her shoulder, she breathed out, "Thank God."

"Shall we?" I extended my arm, gesturing to rejoin them.

She sighed. "If we must."

Crossing the basement, the brunette retook her stool, reaching over the bar to grab her discarded notepad. Feeling bad about our initial interaction, I reached into my pocket and offered up the folded page I'd kept hostage. If her best friend was sleeping with Levi, I would have more opportunities to get to know her. I didn't need to force it tonight.

Hesitantly—almost as if she were afraid it was a trick, and I'd pull it back—she reached for the paper. When I relinquished it easily, she cast her eyes downward.

"Thank you," she said so softly I had to read her lips.

Breathless beside her friend, Coop's eyes met mine. "You taking good care of my girl, Braxton?"

The brunette's eyebrows rose, and she eyed me skeptically. "You know each other?"

Coop smirked. "Everyone knows Braxton."

Levi chimed in, "You could do worse, Danny. I lost my spot on the starting lineup to this fucker. Guess they couldn't pass up on the headlines about the Slate brothers playing together for the first time."

No one would believe me if I told them that the last thing I wanted was special treatment, so I replied, "Coach will put the right player where they need to be. I have no control over that."

Horror filled the blue eyes gazing up at me. "You're—You're a hockey player?"

Jesus. The way she said it with such contempt had me stumbling back a step.

Coop laughed. "Wait. Did you seriously not know who you were talking to? Freaking Braxton Slate, brother of Jaxon, the Comets' captain? I thought you were chatting him up because of who he was. Oh, this is too good!"

Before I could speak, the brunette shoved off her stool, pushing past me. "I'm out of here. See you at home, Bristol."

Confused by her hasty retreat, I grabbed her wrist without thinking. She spun around, staring at my hold, and yanked her arm away. I let it go quickly once I realized what I'd done.

"Don't go," I begged, sounding like a needy loser.

Gesturing a hand wide at the crowd dancing and drinking, she shouted, "Take your pick. You've got a house full of rink rabbits who came here just to fuck you. I'm not one of them."

Without another word, she spun on her heel and barreled through the crush of people, disappearing up the basement stairs.

Stunned, it took a moment for her words to sink in.

Rink rabbit? It couldn't be any more obvious that she wasn't a puck bunny when she couldn't even get the terminology right.

Now, I found myself even more intrigued. She wanted nothing to do with me the minute she heard I was an athlete.

Wasn't that what I had been searching for since the disaster with Lacey? Someone who wasn't only interested in hitching their star to my wagon? Someone who could see beyond the sport I played to the person I was underneath?

And I'd let her get away . . .

Jolted back to reality, I stumbled through the mass of bodies until I reached the cleared staircase. Bounding up the steps two at a time, I hoped I would catch her before she left the house.

Scanning the first floor, I caught a flash of dark curls bouncing near the front door. Shoving people out of the way, I was in hot pursuit, clearing the doorway in time to catch her hopping into a beat-up coupe before peeling down the street, tires squealing.

She might have gotten away this time, but I wasn't going to let her go so easily. I would find out who this mystery girl was if it was the last thing I did.

A grin crept onto my lips, and blood rushed in my veins. It had been a very long time since I had to chase a girl, and I'd almost forgotten how exhilarating it was.

Game on.