1. Luke

Chapter 1

Luke

S mokey’s is my favorite bar but that’s no surprise.

It’s the favorite bar of every player on the Atlanta Fire hockey team.

The guys on the team always head to Smokey’s after practice on Fridays—it’s a good place to meet up with fans and girls.

The bar is packed, no different from any other Friday night.

Some of my teammates are out on the dance floor dancing with random puck bunnies. Normally, I’d be right out there with them but I got caught up listening to another one of Esai’s stories about the time he spent training the Nevada Sidewinders. He points at a yellow and black broken hockey stick on the wall. “…right there. My contribution to Gabriel’s collection.”

“Seriously, you broke it on the guy’s helmet?” Sebastian asks. I’m surprised he came out tonight. He’s got a new kitten at home and is still figuring out whether or not his dog is going to eat it. Lucky for him, he found the best wife in the world and she gave him the night off to hang out with the guys.

Esai nods once, a bashful smile slowly forming across his face. “Well, it might have been the crossbar that actually did the breaking?—”

“I knew it!”

“But either way,” Esai smirks and takes a sip of his beer, “the guy pissed himself in front of the whole arena and that’s all that matters.”

Alek shakes his head. “Why were you on the ice during a game, anyway?”

It’s a fair question. Not common practice for a trainer, or the coach for that matter, to be on the ice while the game is being played.

“I overheard some of the wives talking about what happened to his girlfriend, why she was in the hospital instead of being at the game.” Esai takes a long pull of his tallboy. “Real men don’t rough up their women.”

Sebastian knocks the neck of his beer on our trainer’s. “Damn straight.”

Various other hockey paraphernalia decorates the dimly lit bar, all of it the real deal. No replicas here like at other cheap sports bars. Smokey’s is owned and operated by a former hockey player, Gabriel Moreau, who happens to be the father of one of my teammates, Xavi.

I like Xavi. Women do, too. Usually.

But after seeing him get shot down by the curvy redhead at the end of the bar, I can’t keep my mouth shut as he sheepishly returns to our table. “Struck out, huh?”

He grins and slugs my shoulder. “Think you could do any better, Luke?”

I eye her again, not that she notices. Thick-rimmed black glasses, red hair tied back in a bun, fluffy ivory sweater that belongs on a cozy couch, not a crowded hockey bar. She’s way too deep into her book while everyone else around her shouts at the TV’s situated around the place, having a good time.

Who the hell brings a book to a bar?

Heavy bass pulses through the speakers, urging me to take her to the dance floor. Clearly, she needs someone to show her a good time. Might as well be me.

“She appears to be the kind of girl who needs an excuse to have fun. And I am the perfect excuse,” I tease Xavi as I set my beer down and straighten out my collar. “How do I look?”

“Like you’ve been knocking back beers for two hours,” Alek says with a snort. “You sure you’re up to this?”

“Better than hearing your tale of the rabid salmon again.” I can’t help teasing him about that.

Indignation makes his faint Russian accent hit harder. “It tried to take off my arm!”

“You know salmon can’t get rabies, right?” Sebastian asks.

“They can in Canada,” Alek insists. All things were possible in the Great White North, according to him.

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Canada is known for a lot of things, three that instantly come to mind are: good manners, maple syrup, and hockey. Rabid salmon is not on the list.”

“If you want to do some real fishing, Alek, we’ll go to Florida in the off-season,” Xavi says. “Everything in Florida wants to kill you, so you’ll be able to get some good stories to share.”

Alek glares at both of us before breaking into a hell of a laugh. “We will go to Florida, then Canada, and you will see which one is most dangerous.”

“Right after I get the librarian's number,” I say. “Wish me luck, guys.”

Xavi scoffs. “If you get her number, I’ll pay your tab for the night. She is not having it, I’m telling you.”

“You’re on. What do I get if I get a kiss?”

He snorts derisively. “I’ll loan you my car for a month.”

The guys gasp, their eyes going wide in response to his wager. Hell, even I’m shocked. Xavi loves his ’79 Pontiac Firebird more than life itself. The kid polishes that thing to a gleaming shine every weekend, not a scratch on her. It’s brown with a gold firebird on the hood and original chrome around the windows. In short, it’s hideous, but he adores it. For him to risk a month without his precious baby, I know he’s serious about the girl’s unwillingness to be wooed.

I grin. “Game on.”

The walk from your table to a girl in a bar feels like the longest walk on the planet. Doesn't matter how confident you are or how much game you spit. Every guy is nervous. He'll never admit to it, but he is.

By the time I reach her, I talked myself in and out it half a dozen times. As much as I don’t want to drive Xavi’s car, I have pride on the line and a two-hour beer tab. I’m not backing down, regardless of the consequences.

The seat next to her is empty, so I lean in on the bar there. “They say all the good pick-up lines are taken. Are you?”

Before responding, she slips a book mark in to keep her page, not one willing to fold the corners. She takes care of things that mean something to her.

As she turns to face me, I note her features. She’s likely in her mid-twenties but her green eyes are haunted with unknown tales, making her appear to be an old soul. She has a slightly upturned nose and very full lips that don’t spread into a smile as I had hoped. Round cheeks, a slight scar at her left eyebrow. Her heart-shaped face leaves nothing to be desired.

“Did you really just try a cheesy pick-up line on me?” Her voice is flat yet somehow musical.

This woman is already shaping up to be an enigma.

“Cheesy is my middle name. Just kidding, actually, it's Fox. Hi. I’m Luke Smith,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand.

“Fox?” she asks as she takes my hand and turns it over.

I watch her examine the back of my hand, followed by the other one. “Yes. What are you looking for?”

“Signs of a wedding ring. Only married guys and dads are that cheesy.” She sets my hand aside and sips her drink.

“Well, I'm neither. I didn't catch your name.”

“My name is No.”

I chuckle, undeterred. “What are you reading?”

“A book.”

“I know I don’t look like it, but I was clever enough to figure that out for myself. What's the title?”

She sighs, clearly annoyed with me. I don’t know why that makes me want her more. Maybe I just like a challenge. Especially with all my team watching.

“If I give you the name of the book, will you leave me alone?”

“Did someone just break up with you or something?”

“I don't see how that's any of your business.”

“Forgive me, but I'm not used to women brushing me off. You’ve made me curious.”

She leans on her elbow, fingers at her temple, almost as if she’s trying to rub away a headache. “I didn't make you do anything, Luke. You chose to be nosey.”

She’s got a good point, I can’t argue with that. “True. I'll buy your next round if you tell me what the title of your book is.”

She sits back and smiles seductively. “And if my imminent intention was to buy the next round for the entire bar, does that mean that you will cover it if I tell you the name of my book?”

A pricey proposition but I have a bet to win. “Yes.”

“ Hamilton's Guide to Public Relations and Chocolate Chip Cookies . An old favorite of mine.”

I laugh. “There's no way that's a real book title.”

She turns it over, showing me the cover and that it is, in fact, the real book title. “I believe you now owe the entire bar a round.”

“I am a man of my word.” I stretch over the edge of the bar and wave Gabriel over. “I'm getting the bar’s next round.”

The old man's mouth drops open. “You take a blade to the head or somethin’?”

“Just put it on my tab, Gabe.”

“You got it, kid.” He announces a free round and the bar goes crazy, people lining up to place their orders, all plans of dancing or dating out the window at the prospect of free booze.

Even “No” orders a fresh beer.

She smiles. “Didn't think you had it in you.”

“Well, seeing that you just cost me a few thousand dollars, can I get your real name?”

She half shrugs, still smiling. “Kenneth.”

I freeze for a beat. She’s obviously lying. But I can play along. “Nice to meet you, Kenneth.”

She laughs. “If you wanna run back and tell your friends that you got my number, I'll back you up.”

How did she know?

“What do you mean? I'm not?—”

“You're here because I turned your buddy down, right?”

“I'm here because I saw a pretty girl sitting all alone. I thought she might want some company.”

“What about me sitting here with a book makes you think I want company?”

“Maybe not company, but definitely someone to show you a good time.” I lean in close enough to catch a hint of her floral perfume. I wonder what it would feel like to wake up with sheets that smell that good. “I am excellent at showing a beautiful woman a good time.”

“If I see any, I'll be sure to tell them.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I'm already talking to the most beautiful woman at the bar tonight. Dance with me. Or you could just kiss me and we’ll call it even for the huge bar tab.”

“I'd sooner set my hair on fire.”

“Funny you should mention that. I’m?—”

“Luke,” Gabriel cuts in. “Just one round, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“The team seems to think you’re in a generous mood tonight.” He motions toward my table where at least a dozen shots are sitting in front of the guys.

“Those are not on my tab.”

He smirks. “Understood.” He toddles on his way, his limp giving away the injury that ended his hockey career. Gabe had been a right winger like me, so watching him makes it hard not to think about what an injury could do to my career.

I shake off the thought and return my focus to No, or Kenneth, or whatever the fuck her name is. She’s nose deep in her book again. Not gonna work.

“Hey, Kenneth, how about that dance?”

“You really don't take a hint, do you?”

“Never.”

“Maybe this will make it clearer.” She lifts her mug up high and slowly pours it over my head. It wouldn’t be so bad in any other bar, but Smokey’s is known for their frosty cold brews, and this one is no exception. I can’t hear the guys laughter over the din of the bar but I’m sure it’s there. Hell, I'd laugh.

Icy rivulets trickle down from my hair as I stand there, formulating a response. “That was thoughtful of you.”

A line forms in the middle of her brow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I am the hottest guy in here so… that helped cool me off.”

She laughs but there’s no humor in it. “I'm not interested in you, Luke. You’re dismissed.”

There is a look on a woman's face when she lies to a man about her interest. It's almost a cross between a secretive expression and something seductive. Kenneth’s perfect face slid into that look as I stood there, dripping beer.

“When I see you again, I'm getting that kiss.”

She laughs for real this time. “Liar.”

I lean close enough to drip beer on her. “I'm not the one pretending to not be interested right now, therefore, I'm not the liar here. See you around, Kenny.”

“Kenneth. Not Kenny.”

“Whatever you say, Kenny.” I stroll away, beer dripping on the floor with every step. The guys are in hysterical laughter as I reach my table but it’s fine.

I’m gonna get that kiss.

I just need more time.