“They called me Lauren Dyson Ball Vacuum Thingy Jones in college.”
I blinked at the chick talking to me, letting what she’d just said sink in. We’d been flirting for a few minutes at the bar while I waited for my beer. “Uh…”
“Because I handle super smoothly, and I love sucking.” She winked.
Okay. Wow.
“Impressive.” I managed a smile, took my beer from the bartender, and turned. “Nice talking to you, Lauren.”
I made a beeline back to my bros at the table near the window. “Jesus Christ.” I told them what had just happened and they all laughed, their heads turning to the bar to search out the woman. “Don’t look, don’t look.” I swiped my forehead.
“Come on, Brick. It’s not like you to turn down a hot chick.”
My name wasn’t Brick, just FYI—Cam Brickley, but my teammates all called me Brick. We were hockey players so we had to have nicknames.
“That was a bit much, even for me.”
I liked women. A lot. I also liked a lot of women.
We were at River East Social House, enjoying the blues music and the drinks on a Friday night off—me, Chaser, Bomber, Rico, and Pilker. Seemed like we were the only single ones left on the Aces team. That wasn’t even true though. Pilker had met someone back in Sweden over the summer, and she was in the process of moving here. Rico had been seeing someone for a while now. Bomber had had two dates with the same woman, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but…And Chaser, my best buddy, was living with Jordyn Banks, famous pop star. All the other guys were married off, their wives popping out babies left and right.
It was kind of depressing.
“You need to find a woman and settle down.” Chaser pointed at me with his beer bottle.
“Oh no. No, no, no. Do not do that to me.” I scowled at him. “You’re all married off, and you think everyone else should be. Why do guys do that?”
Chaser shrugged. “Just want you to be happy, man.”
“I am happy.”
“Huh.”
“What the fuck does that mean? You think I’m not happy?”
“Sure, sure, you’re happy. But you know…you could be happier. You just don’t know what it’s like. You’re too busy manwhoring around.”
“I’m having fun.” I lifted my drink to my lips. I considered going back and talking more to Lauren but winced. “Sort of.”
“Let’s make a bet.” Chaser leaned on the table.
My ears perked up. The competitor in me always liked a bet. We bet on all kinds of crazy shit…who could do forty push-ups in less than a minute, who could eat a ghost pepper without puking, or whether Chaser and I would slow-dance together for an entire song at our friends’ wedding. (We did it.) Once Chaser bet me that he could win five face-offs in a row against me. I sadly lost, meaning I had to take off his skates for him every day for a week. That was painful.
“I bet you can’t see the same woman for two months in a row without falling in love with her.”
“What?” I scoffed. “That’s stupid. I don’t fall in love. I don’t even believe in love.”
Chaser snorted. “Right. What do you want to bet? I’ll wash your jockstraps for the rest of the season.”
“You know I don’t wear a jockstrap. Only Bomber does. That thing’s disgusting, by the way.”
Bomber shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s my lucky jock.”
“Okay, I’ll wash your shorts,” Chaser corrected.
“Hmm.” I rubbed my chin. That would be sweet. “But the rest of the season’s not long enough…two months will be middle of April…I think it has to be more than that.”
“Okay, for the rest of this calendar year. And if you lose, you wash all ours.” He gestured around the table.
“Ugh.”
He raised a challenging eyebrow.
I rubbed my chin again. “But I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
“I’ll bet you can’t pick up that hot blonde over at the bar.” Rico lifted his chin.
“Not Lauren!” My head whipped around to look.
“Is that Lauren? The one standing at the end of the bar—she’s with two girls and a guy.”
“No, that’s not Lauren.” I narrowed my eyes. “But she’s with a guy.”
“You don’t know if they’re together.”
“She’s hot,” Bomber agreed. “Maybe out of your league.”
I straightened. “What?” That was like a double dare. A double dog dare. That was like laying out fat rails in front of a coke addict.
“Her friends are cute too,” Pilker said musingly. “Maybe you could go over and ask if any of them are interested.”
“No!” all three guys shouted.
Pilker grinned. “Not the right approach?”
“Definitely not.” I grimaced. “You need to make a woman feel like she’s special.”
“Plus that would sound really lame and desperate,” Rico added.
“Well, if you’re so good at it…” Chaser lifted an eyebrow at me.
“What are we betting on this?”
“I already said…washing the shorts.”
“No. That was for dating someone for two months without falling in love. What are we betting on me getting a date with her?”
“Ah.” Rico nodded. “Okay.” He tapped his chin. “If you can’t get her to go out with you, I get your Stiff T-shirt.”
I stared at him in horror. “No way. That’s too valuable to give up.”
The T-shirt was produced by legendary indie record producer Stiff, and it said on the front IF IT AIN’T STIFF IT AIN’T WORTH A FUCK. It was one of my most prized possessions.
“You don’t think you can do it?” Rico smirked.
“Ah.” I glanced at the blonde and weighed the risks and benefits. “Okay.” I sucked in a long breath. “It’s on.”
The next band came on and started their set. “I’ll do it after this set,” I shouted over the music.
They all gave me a thumbs-up.
Christ. What had I gotten myself into? I drank more beer and listened to the music.
I turned my head slightly and eyed the woman they’d pointed out.
Yep. Hot.
I watched her instead of the band. My assessment was that she and the guy weren’t together. They didn’t touch. It looked platonic.
Tall. Long blond hair. Seemed pretty from here, with a big smile that she flashed at her friends as they moved to the music. She had a lean, athletic build. I couldn’t see all of her because of other people in the way, but then her friends moved. Whoa. Short skirt, high boots with killer heels, and…legs to die for. Not that you could see much of them above the boots, but the stretch of toned, smooth thighs was…stellar.
Holy shit.
Okay, I’m not a legs man. Not a boobs man, or an ass man. I like all women parts equally. It’s the total package…and that includes the eyes, the smile, the personality. She was a total babe package. Well, except I didn’t know her personality. Yet.
Okay, this wouldn’t be a hardship.
Out of my league? Phhhhht.
Remember how I said I like women? Well, women like me too. Not being a cocky asshole—it’s true. My belief? Women like me because they know I like them. I know how to talk to them, how to treat them, how to make them feel special. I also know how to make them feel…special. If you know what I mean.
When the set finally ended, I slid off my stool and sauntered over to the bar.
In a perfect moment, she was on the outside of her group of friends; in fact, the guy wasn’t there. Probably in the can.
“Hi,” I said with a smile I knew women couldn’t resist. “Sorry to interrupt.” I turned my body slightly and lifted my hand. “See those guys over there? At the table by the window?”
She gave me a look, slid her gaze toward my friends, then back to me.
Up close, she was really pretty. Her mouth was a little wide, but had a sweet curve. Her long hair was many shades of gold, which I recognized as expensive highlights. In fact, she had an expensive air about her…the dress was plain but the boots looked like they cost five thousand bucks.
“Those guys?” She pointed.
“Yeah.” I leaned in a little closer. Not creepy close though. “They want to know if you think I’m cute.”
She turned those green eyes back on me, her perfect eyebrows arched above them. For a few long seconds, she just looked at me with no expression on her face. The she laughed. “Oh my God.” She shook her head, and smiling, that mouth was even sexier. “Does that line work for you?”