Prologue
Fourteen months ago
August
"CAN I BUY YOU ANOTHER drink?"
Roan Gregory hoped he wasn't sporting his who me look when he cast a quick glance up and to the left, startled by the offer from …
Well. Okay.
Not what he'd expected.
Standing before him was the sexy guy who'd been checking Roan out since he walked in the door. Discreetly, sure. But Roan's attention had been unfocused at best. He'd noticed. And yes, this was the same guy Roan had fought hard not to sneak a peek at for the past hour.
The guy was totally his type back when he'd had a type. At least in the physical sense.
Blond hair, blue eyes, long and lean, with the perfect balance of muscles tossed in.
But that was the key. Roan didn't have a type anymore. He was more interested in ignoring men for the duration.
Sexy Guy nodded toward the empty beer bottle in front of Roan. "Another?"
As though the guy wasn't possibly talking to him, Roan continued to stare. Only this time, he was captivated by the seductive smirk on Sexy Guy's smooth lips. Nice lips. Full, perfect … lips.
Obliterating the thought from his sex-starved brain, Roan dropped his gaze down to his beer. Yep, definitely empty. He must've drained it when he'd been lost in his own damn thoughts. Unfortunately-no matter what his little head was telling him-he wasn't interested in company, sexy or otherwise, so he wanted Sexy Guy to go sit back down at the table by the wall where he'd come from.
"I'm good." Shaking his head, Roan avoided the man's eyes, hoping he would take the hint.
"I figured if you're gonna drown your sorrows, probably should do it right."
If Sexy Guy only knew.
Lifting his gaze once more, Roan met the determined steel-blue eyes still studying him. He bit back a retort. Didn't the guy understand that he wanted to be alone? Seriously, what did he need to do? Hold up a sign that said, Personal Pity Party, No Company Wanted?
What the … ?
Clearly Roan needed to improve his turn-down skills. Sexy Guy surely mistook his I'm good for sure, sit down and join me because, of course, Sexy Guy was now sitting at his table. And he hadn't bothered to ask.
"I promise, I'm harmless." To reiterate his point, Sexy Guy held up his hands in surrender.
Big hands. Nice hands. Perfect hands.
Son of a bitch.
Now that Roan thought about it, the guy didn't look harmless. He looked like … well, hell, he looked like temptation.
Good thing he'd cut temptation from his diet long ago.
Leaning back, Roan tried to appear casual, not wanting to show that he was taken aback by the guy's forwardness. He also didn't want the incredibly handsome blond to see that Roan was discreetly attempting to check him out. Mainly, the way that snug charcoal-gray T-shirt stretched across his impressive chest and the way the corded muscles in his neck shifted inconspicuously when he lifted his arm.
How discreet he was actually being was anyone's guess since there was only about three feet between them.
Not only was he at least an eleven, Sexy Guy also looked familiar. Eerily so. Only Roan couldn't place him.
Roan shrugged off the thought and continued to stare the guy down.
For the past half hour, Roan had been nursing a beer while pretending to watch the baseball game playing on the television closest to him. He wasn't really paying attention at all because his brain was inundated with how shitty he'd allowed his life to become. In fact, he'd been paying so little attention he had noticed that the handsome man now sitting across from him had been staring his way every so often.
After the guy signaled the waitress for two more beers, he turned back to Roan.
Bold move considering Roan had already told him he wasn't interested. Or that had been his meaning anyway.
"Colton Seguine," Sexy Guy said smoothly as he held out his hand.
Roan detected an accent, but he couldn't quite place it. Canadian, maybe?
"Not interested," Roan grumbled, ignoring the introduction, hoping the guy would get it through his thick skull that Roan wasn't …
Wait.
Did he say … ?
The name registered and Roan's gaze slammed directly into the big guy.
Wavy blond hair, a thin scar running through one of his thick eyebrows, pale blue eyes with the perfect balance of gray running through them, a slightly crooked nose, and a jaw that looked as though it had been carved from stone, not to mention sharp cheekbones and those lips …
Holy shit.
The harmless temptation sitting across from him was none other than a fucking hockey player.
Harmless. Right.
"You're Colton Seguine," Roan muttered, feeling stupid.
The guy's lopsided smirk transformed his face from sexy to … hot as fuck. "That's what they tell me, but everyone calls me Seg. Unfortunately, I don't recognize you, so … "