Icing (Aces Hockey #1)(10)

“Apparently he’s a friend of yours. You didn’t mention that earlier.”

“Uh…it didn’t come up.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

He paused, studying her. “I was about to come over and see if you’d go out with me when that happened.”

She paused and blinked her long eyelashes.

“It was fun talking to you earlier,” he continued, his heart rate picking up speed. “We could go for dinner…or something.”

“Are you kidding?” Her eyes widened. “I can’t go out with you! Just go away. I want to finish my shift without any more free-for-alls breaking out, take my tips, and go home.”

Heat rose from beneath his shirt and up into his face. Well, shit and damn. He shouldn’t have said anything. “Okay, then.” He turned away.

“Wait.”

His heart gave a leap and he turned back.

“You’re bleeding.” She gestured at his face. “Here.” She grabbed a clean white towel, ran it under water at a sink behind the bar, then reached across to dab his face.

He leaned in closer to let her do it, the towel stinging his cut lip, but that was easy to ignore when she was so close and smelled so good and her pretty eyes were focused on his mouth. That was hot. Again, damn.

Why was she so pissed at him?

“There.” She drew back, not meeting his eyes.

“Thanks.” With one last long look at her, he reluctantly turned and made his way back to the table, where the guys were the center of attention from the puck bunnies who’d joined them, all impressed with how they’d taken those guys on and stopped the fight.

He needed another drink, like, now. Jesus. Women. What the fuck. He’d never understand them. He’d thought he was done with them before? Now he was really done.

Jenny, another waitress working that night, approached their table and he ordered one more beer, then sat there morosely drinking it while the others partied away.

He was definitely drunk. Maybe his judgment had been a little impaired. He wasn’t one to go around starting bar fights. Even on the ice, he wasn’t exactly known as an instigator. He didn’t back down if it needed to happen and he’d occasionally started something, but not often. The last time he’d scrapped off the ice was the night he’d come home early and found his best friend and his little sister sneaking out of his bathroom naked. Jesus fuck. That had nearly blown the top of his head off, and he’d actually thrown down with his best friend.

For some reason he’d been just about as pissed as that when he’d seen that asshole with his hands on Amber. Without thinking, he’d jumped off his stool and rushed over there. He hadn’t meant it to turn into a brawl, but he definitely hadn’t backed down when the fucker’s shithead buddy came at him. Jesus.

“Fuck, man, snap out of it,” Rupper said to him. “You’re tamping our fuzz.”

“Should prolly just go home,” Duncan mumbled.

“Yeah, might be a good idea. You need a cab, though.”

“Yeah.” Even drunk, he knew better than to drive in this condition.

“We’ll get your truck tomorrow.”

Something occurred to him about that…but then it was gone. “Okay.”

“Come on, Armdog, I’ll pour you into a taxi.”

Duncan grabbed his jacket and tried to not stagger as they walked out of the bar. He took one last look for Amber, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Out on the street, the sharp January air washed over him and he dragged it into his lungs. Rupper hailed a cab, then provided Duncan’s East Monroe Street address to the driver. He slammed the door shut and held up a hand in a wave and Duncan slumped down into the seat.

Not one of his better Fridays. Going home alone, boiled as an owl. Thank fuck they didn’t have a game tomorrow, though they did have an afternoon practice. Then he had a stupid charity event to go to.

He didn’t mind some charity events. Giving back to the community was a good thing to do and he was happy to contribute, but this one was some big fundraiser that involved a fashion show. Shit like that was so far out of his comfort zone, it might as well have been happening on Mars. Melissa had been supposed to go to it with him, but now he was dateless. He wasn’t really looking forward to another lame stag night out. His roommate, Duper, was going and bringing Duncan’s sister, Lovey, of course, and Jared was bringing a date too.

Once home, he fumbled out some bills to pay the cab, rode the elevator to his condo on the fourteenth floor, and entered his home. Judging from the quiet, it was empty. Just as well. Duper had been spending more time at Lovey’s tiny little apartment and that was fine with Duncan. He was getting used to seeing them making out all the fucking time, everyfuckingwhere, but he did not want to risk the chance of overhearing them having sex. Seeming to understand this, Duper often spent the night at Lovey’s place.