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Boone: I’m down as long as I can bring some friends.

Georgia: Fine, but no more than two.

Gabe: Wait. Cece, as in Cece Golden? The movie star?

Georgia: And singer. She’s multifaceted. And yes.

Logan laughed. “I love how fierce Georgia is about the people she cares about.”

I dropped a kiss on her neck, unable to stop myself. “So are you.”

I ignored the group chat and glanced down at Logan. “What do you think? Do you want to go?”

“It’s your night,” she said. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“Maybe we could go for a little while,” I said, wanting more than anything to be alone with Logan.

I followed her through the club toward the exit, my hand on her lower back. Word of the team’s arrival had spread, and I was grateful we were leaving. We’d gotten to share our victory with the fans, but it was getting way too crowded.

We boarded the bus, and Logan rolled her eyes at the sight of the pole in the back. The lights were turned down, electric blue outlining the bottom of the seats and the cutout in the ceiling. All the seats were full—hell, Boone had a woman perched on each thigh. And almost everyone seemed to have brought a guest.

Logan headed toward the back of the bus, standing beside the pole. A few of the guys let out a whoop, passing around alcohol from the wet bar.

“If you’re going to hold the pole, you gotta shake your ass,” Boone said.

Logan barked out a laugh. “You wish.”

Fortunately, before I could do something stupid like punch my teammate in the face, Holden scooted over. “Here,” he said to Logan. “You can sit by me.”

“Thanks,” she said, going over to join him.

Someone inched over to make space for me at the opposite end of the bus. We were soon on our way, winding through the hills that led up to Cece’s house. By the time we arrived, half my teammates were making out with their guests. Logan and Holden were deep in conversation about hockey, and I hated that I had to pretend she and I were just friends…when we were so much more.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Logan’s arm brushed mine as we followed Georgia up the path to Cece’s house in the Hills. Unlike the modern architecture of her Nashville home, this one had a Spanish flair. Red tile roof, stucco walls, large windows.

My pinkie grazed Logan’s, and when she smiled, something in me softened. Georgia glanced at us over her shoulder, grinning when our eyes met.

When we reached the front door, a woman with a headset was collecting everyone’s phones. I dropped mine in the basket then headed out to the pool, music pumping through unseen speakers. Waiters circulated, and Cece surveyed the scene, welcoming everyone.

I’d met Cece briefly at her birthday party last summer, but there had been so many people that night, I doubted she remembered me. That said, I wanted to make a good impression. She was one of Logan’s oldest friends, and I knew her opinion was important to Logan.

Logan threw her arms around Cece. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too!” Cece’s smile was bright, reaching her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re home for the summer and I won’t be here.” She pouted.

Cece must have noticed me lurking because she smiled at me. “Carson Kovalsky. Good to see you again.”

“You too.” I gave her a side hug.

“Congrats on an amazing season,” she said as a waiter passed around shots. “You’re going to take good care of my girl this summer, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said in a teasing tone. “Though she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.”

Cece appraised me with a look of approval then turned to survey her backyard. Some of the guys were playing beer pong, others had stripped down to their underwear—some even less—and climbed into the pool.

“You boys aren’t shy,” Cece said, laughing as a waiter delivered drinks to us. “I’ll give you that.”