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The look on his face is so genuine, as if he wants to know if he has a shot with me. “What’s not to like? You’re Rowan Landry.”
The smile drops from his face, and he picks up his glass. “Want a refill?”
He takes my wineglass and steps away from the table without waiting for me to answer. I watch as he goes to the bar and sets the two glasses on the bar top while the bartender grabs new ones.
Rowan almost looked upset by what I said, which doesn’t make sense. Every hockey player I’ve ever known has gotten off on the accolades and compliments of who they are in the hockey realm. I thought it would boost his ego a little and seal the deal that I’d end up in room 1498 in the next fifteen minutes. Maybe I should’ve just gone home instead of detouring over to the bar.
He returns and slides my wineglass over to me. His fingernails are clipped and clean and well-manicured. I blink to stop the image of them plunging inside me or twisting my nipples. Why I am so damn horny right now?
“Thank you, I could have gotten?—”
“It’s no problem.” He sips his drink. “Do you think you can forget who I am for a half hour?”
I’m still in the game. “Only a half hour?”
He turns away from me, staring at the crowd of people as the DJ announces that it’s time to eat. “I guess you’re saved by the beef wellington. It was nice to meet you, Leigh.”
He steps behind me, oddly close, and I close my eyes when his arm brushes along my back.
Let him go, Kyleigh.Just leave. Go home and masturbate to him if you need to.
“Wait,” I say, unable to stop myself.
He turns around to face me.
I’m probably going to regret this. “I had a guest.”
He slides his hands into his pockets, and I realize he left his drink behind. “Yeah?”
“She had to leave, so I mean, if you want, you could sit at fourteen with me. I get that twelve is higher on the list.” I roll my eyes playfully, but his gaze remains on me, as intense as ever. I should’ve kept quiet. “Don’t feel obligated…”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.” I pick up my wineglass. “Table fourteen, then?”
His fingers cover mine as he takes my wineglass from my grip. Then he holds out his arm for me. “Table fourteen, then.”
I slide my arm through his. What is going on? This was supposed to be a wham bam, see you never. Not share a meal and clink glasses while we watch the happy couple make out at the head table.
He pauses at the table’s edge at the exact place I was sitting when our eyes locked, except he takes the spot where my wine spilled and holds out the chair for Alara’s seat.
How did my predicted one-night stand turn into my wedding guest?
Three
Rowan
I plannedto make an appearance during cocktail hour and hightail it out of there with the excuse of being sick.
Jack was my best friend in high school. We played on the same hockey team for years, and when my mom couldn’t go on the road trips, Jack’s family took me. Jack decided to stop playing after high school, having bigger dreams than playing hockey professionally, and that’s when our lives drifted in two different directions. Sure, every once in a while we’d call or text, but he was on his way up the corporate ladder, and I was busting my ass to get where I am today.
He’s been in Chicago for four years, and the minute I got traded, he called me. We’ve gone out for a few drinks, and I met his bride, Mila, when he had me over to their trendy, newly built house in the city. They’re a great couple. Mila makes Jack happy. So I’m happy for them.
But when I got the wedding invitation, I wanted to decline. I ignored it as I do most things I don’t want to deal with. Until Jack called me and put me on the spot.
Usually I’d let any call I don’t want to answer go to voicemail, but I was expecting a call from my agent and answered without checking as I was hustling groceries up the stairs of my building. He told me he really wanted me there, and I said I didn’t want my appearance to overshadow his day, take the attention away from him and Mila. But he said he’d take care of it and mentioned that his parents really wanted to see me, which piled on the guilt because they did so much for me since I had a single working mom. So here I am at a wedding alone, not knowing anyone except four people. Five now, if you count the hot brunette sitting next to me.
I’m not sure what Jack did, but no one has approached me for a picture, an autograph, or even to shake my hand.
