Page 7 of With the Assist

It does something annoying to my ego. People notice me. I’m Nathan Wilder, one of the best players in the NHL, or at least I was. I shake my head to rid myself of the doubt that’s started creeping in.

I’ve never used my status to get a girl, but it never hurts. It saves time getting through the surface stuff like my name and job. Though, based on her indifference, it might not get me anywhere tonight.

Liam coughs, pushing me forward until her piercing eyes finally land on me. They’re the blue of a cloudless summer sky.

My mouth goes dry. Fucking hell.

“Yes?” She asks, her voice soft and sure. Her hand fidgets at her side in a tiny, nervous motion. It’s a small crack in the confidence she radiates. I take it as a sign that approaching her wasn’t a mistake.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Nathan.” I lift my hand slightly before realizing that it’s a ridiculous thing to do. I’m not going to shake her hand like a business partner. Idiot.

She tilts her head ever so slightly, lips curving into the faintest smile. “Hello,” she says, but she doesn’t give me a name. Not yet. It becomes my personal mission to get it.

“I have to say, you seem to be surviving this circus better than most.”

“You know what they say.” Her laugh is brief. I wish it were longer. “If you can’t beat them, join them.”

“It’s impressive. Most people here seem like they’re trying too hard.”

She raises an eyebrow, scanning my custom suit. “You mean, like you?”

Liam snorts into his drink, and I elbow him. Mystery girl watches me, amused, but not brushing me off entirely.

I let my eyes wander over her for a minute before pushing a little further. “So, are you here as an invitee, or has your date made a terrible mistake in leaving you alone?”

“Why do you want to know?” She asks, letting the challenge hang. Definitely not brushing me off.

I smile. Game on.

“Curiosity, mostly. Also, trying to toss my hat in the ring before the rest of the room does.”

Her friend bumps her shoulder as if she’s been saying the same thing all night. Interesting. If her friend has had to reiterate how good she looks, then the confidence oozing off her isn’t related to her appearance, even if it should be.

“That’s a bold assumption considering you’re the only one who’s approached me tonight.”

“Trust me. Plenty of guys wish they’d beaten me over here, but they knew they didn’t stand a chance.” I take a sip of my drink.

“And you do?” She quirks an eyebrow.

“A guy has to have dreams.” I shrug, dialing up the charm. “I’ll definitely be dreaming about that dress.”

Her friend snickers, but she shakes her head. “There are at least ten other people here in a similar dress. It’s hardly impressive.”

“I’d say managing to look that stunning in it, especially when you don’t even want to be here, is impressive.”

“I never said I don’t want to be here.”

“Do you?” My lips twitch as she pretends to consider my question.

“Nope.” Her lips pop at the end of the word, forming an O that heats me from the inside out. I force my eyes away from her lips before I embarrass myself.

Liam steps toward her friend, grinning like a shark. “Hey there. I’m Liam.”

Both girls exchange a look, and a silent conversation happens in front of us. Finally, the smoke show in the emerald green dress turns toward Liam. I swear she could cut glass with the look on her face.

“I don’t fuck hockey players,” she says flatly, no hesitation or mercy in sight.

Liam freezes mid-charm, lips parting in confusion. “Right. Got it,” he stammers.