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“Hi, I’m Alara. Saw you last night but never properly introduced myself.” She puts out her hand, which tears his focus off me. I want to kick her under the table like a toddler, but at the same time, I’m thankful.
“Rowan.” He shakes her hand.
“Landry. The Falcons’ new center,” the boy in his arms says. “I’m Bodhi Hensley. My dad is Henry Hensley. Right wing.”
Alara laughs and shifts her hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Bodhi. I’m Alara, and this is…”
“Leigh.” I wave, and Alara giggles.
Rowan’s gaze seeks mine out again, and god, the man is even more gorgeous in the daylight. Even in a T-shirt and joggers, the definition of his body is obvious.
“Who are your friends?” A guy I know is Tweetie comes by holding his arms out for Bodhi, and he goes willingly.
“Take me to the pancake man, please,” Bohdi says.
“In a second, bud. Rowan needs to answer my question.” Tweetie Sorenson is standing next to Rowan Landry. I could pinch myself.
“This is Leigh and Alara.” Rowan points at me then Alara.
“Hey, ladies, I’m Tweetie.” He grins at us, then looks back at Rowan. “I meant who are they to you?” His smirk says he’s purposely being a shithead to Rowan. He looks between Rowan and me, waiting patiently.
“Leigh is a friend.”
Alara coughs and pretends she’s choking and needs a drink of her orange juice. Tweetie clocks her response and seems to put the pieces together.
“Leigh, I’m curious, were you at a wedding last night?”
“She sure was,” Alara answers for me.
“Ah…you’re the reason for my buddy’s smile this morning.”
“Go show Bodhi the pancake man,” Rowan says, obviously unamused.
“That guy isn’t giving me half the show this here is.” Tweetie stands firm, but he’s so tall, Bodhi can still see the man making the pancakes.
“What’s going on over here?” Henry Hensley comes over.
“I suddenly feel like the it girl in high school.” Alara sips her orange juice again, her eyes pinging between each pro hockey player circling around our booth.
“We’re going to need a table for six,” Tweetie says to Henry.
“Oh no, we have our meals already. You guys enjoy your breakfast.” I wave off his suggestion, but Henry’s already walking over to the hostess stand.
“Let me show you what it’s like the morning after you sleep with a Falcon. Rowan here is at least going to buy you breakfast.” He winks and puts his hand around Rowan’s neck and squeezes.
“I’m game,” Alara says with a bright smile.
I whip my head in her direction, forehead wrinkled. “What? No.”
“You did leave before I could buy you a meal.”
I look over, and Rowan hasn’t stripped his gaze off me, raising those eyebrows just as he did at the bar, challenging me to say no.
He knows as well as I do that last night was exceptional. But I’m not sure we could ever recreate it. A night like that is meant to be forever instilled in the memories one takes with them through life.
“I’m sure your body is just as spent as mine and Rowan’s. Coach always says you need to replenish those calories you burned.” Tweetie gives me a smile I don’t trust because it looks like trouble. Mostly the fun kind.
How did I get swindled into a breakfast with Rowan Landry and his teammates, thus ensuring I’m going to have to do a second walk of shame this morning?
