Page 13 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“Pfft, you worry too much,” Calvin mutters, shoveling another forkful of cheesecake into his mouth.

As the evening progresses, the guys have more to drink, and they get louder and more boisterous. It’s nothing I can’t handle, and I soon find that while none of us are on the clock, it’s actually quite fun to watch them.

“Hailee, come and dance with us,” Bea calls from where she, Casey, Freya, Parker, and Sutton are all dancing together.

“No, I’m okay.”

“Come on. Let your hair down a little,” Parker cries.

I grit my teeth as I try to decide what to do, but it turns out that I don’t really get a choice because Sutton rushes forward and practically drags me from my chair. It must be all the training she does, because that girl is stronger than she looks.

I can’t remember the last time I let my hair down and forgot all my worries on a dance floor. It was a long time before I moved to LA. Sure, I’ve been in countless clubs and events during my time here, but I’m always working—keeping an eye on the guys, trying to keep them out of harm’s way, or more so, the bunnies out of their clutches. They only lead to stories and fires that need putting out the next morning. But as I begin moving my hips, I remember how freeing dancing can be.

It’s not long before I’ve put everything aside and I’m dancing like I should have been when I turned twenty-one and legal for the first time.

Laughter peals from my lips, sweat clings to my skin, and a rush I haven’t felt in so long surges through my veins.

“You’re a good dancer, Hailee,” Casey says.

“Thanks. I did a lot of classes when I was younger.”

“We didn’t,” Parker calls, her voice already slurred from the number of drinks people keep handing her. “Can you tell?”

I watch the way she’s moving completely out of time to the beat of the music. “Nope. Never would have guessed,” I say, fighting my smirk.

“Oh, you are such a liar, Ms. Caldwell.”

I shrug, laughing as she makes her dancing even worse on purpose.

“Happy looks good on you,” I shout over the music.

“Thanks. It feels good, too. No woman needs a man, I know that for a fact. But I can’t lie, when you find the right one, things just…” She lets out a happy sigh that makes my chest tighten. “Fuck, things get better.”

Casey, Freya, and Bea all agree. And in that moment, I couldn’t feel less single if I tried.

Usually, I don’t care. I actively avoid having to spend time with men—outside of work, of course. I’m not on any dating apps. I’m not interested. I figure that if there’s someone out there for me, he’s going to have to come and find me because I am putting in zero effort here.

I love my life in LA. I love my job. I love my colleagues. I work with some of the most talented people in professional sports, and I couldn’t be happier.

Sure, I don’t doubt that many would look at me and question how I could possibly be happy. I don’t have friends or socialize; I don’t do anything really outside of work, but I’m okay with that. No, I’m more than okay with it. I’m ecstatic. I am fully my own boss with no one telling me what to do, where to be, how to act, or dress. It’s everything I’ve wanted for years.

Everything is exactly as it’s meant to be.

Their heated stares make my face burn. “Don’t you all give me that look,” I shout.

“We’re not giving you any look. We just think you should maybe have a little more fun in your life.”

“I have fun,” I argue.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“The other night, I ordered my favorite takeout, opened a bottle of wine, and curled up on my couch with the book I’ve been waiting to read for ages. Perfect night in.”

Parker screws up her nose, making me dread whatever words are about to come out of her mouth.

“You’re missing something,” she points out.

I raise my brows, waiting for her to make her point.