Even though Dixie is clear across the room, it’s impossible to stop looking at her. Damn, she’s hot. I’ve never seen her in anything but business wear. That dress is not business wear. I keep wanting to walk up to her and trace the lace hem with my fingertips.

“Eli!” Levi barks in a harsh whisper at me.

I blink and refocus on the people in front of me, two puffy businessmen who are also season ticket holders. I can tell by the expectant look on their faces they asked me a question, but I have no idea what it was.

“Eli likes playing with the Storm, right, Eli? They’re a good group of guys,” Levi tells the businessmen with an easy smile.

Oh. We’re talking about my career. Great. I press my lips into a smile like I’m perfectly okay with these guys who have probably never laced up skates weighing in on my life’s dream. But I give them an easy grin and say, “It’s a fun team filled with really talented guys.”

“Seems like you’re struggling a little, though. No offense, but I saw that you got pulled last game,” says the man in the blue suit.

My smile grows brighter as my thoughts grow darker. “Everyone has an off night.” You raging pile of pompous douchery, I add silently. “I’m just getting it out of my system now so I don’t have off days when they call me up.”

The businessmen chuckle and Levi smiles. Then they both ask for selfies, which we provide, and they tell us they’re going to check on the Mexican vacation package they bid on. They shake our hands, and the one in the blue suit leans in and says, “How’s the neck?”

“Like nothing ever happened.” I give my automatic standard answer to this question, trying not to let my tone sound clipped.

He grins and winks. “Good to hear it. And I bet that scar gets you a lot of tail.”

They saunter off, which is great because I don’t know how much longer I can hold this happy-go-lucky look on my face without physical pain. All I want to do is scowl. I fucking hate that everyone and their brother thinks they get to weigh in on the most horrible moment of my life. Seriously. It happens all the time, and it’s making my blood boil more and more every time. Levi steps closer and squeezes my shoulder. “Sorry, bro. They can be invasive.”

“It’s fine. And he’s right. Chicks dig scars,” I say and run a hand through my hair. “And speaking of chicks, I’m going to grab another drink and take a look at the eye candy in this place.”

There’s only one girl I intend to ogle, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Levi’s expression grows stern. “Thunder players can’t pick up women at team events.”

I grin. “You know, you should really consider acting after hockey. You could play the angry old curmudgeon in just about any movie without even trying.” I laugh, but he doesn’t. “Relax, I’ll behave. And besides, I’m not technically a Thunder player, Thor.”

Using the “God of Thunder” nickname he’s earned since joining this team gets the reaction I hoped for—he scowls. Triumphant, I wink at him and walk away.

I have no idea where I’m going. I just know I don’t want to talk to him anymore—or anyone. I’m really fucking done with everyone’s opinions and advice. I need to get in a better headspace if I’m going to stay at this event and convince everyone I’m in a great mood. I find myself by the large bar on the far end of the room so I order a Stella. Normally in this mood I’d want something with hard liquor, but Dixie warned us to take it easy on booze.

“Forget the beer. Make that two Piña Coladas,” I hear her say to the bartender before I see her. “And put extra umbrellas in his, please. Extra maraschino cherries in mine.”

I smile and turn to find her about half a foot down the bar. My mood instantly lifts and for the first time all night I’m not faking the smile that forms on my face. The pretty teal color of the dress stands out in the dim light, accentuating the way her hip curves as she leans on the bar. Her golden hair shimmers in the light from the tiki torches. It’s always so perfectly straight and sleek, and, man, I can’t wait to try to mess it up.

“Ms. Wynn, we are not supposed to be getting inebriated at team functions,” I tell her sternly and sidestep closer to her. “I believe you have a handbook on your person that will confirm that.”

“I gave the handbook back to our intern, Nadine,” she explains with a smile playing on her red lips. I want to smear the lipstick off them.

“Why did you have it in the first place?”

“Double-checking one of the clauses,” Dixie replies innocently. “I like to make sure I’m not a rule breaker.”

The bartender slides two icy Piña Coladas at us. Mine has two frilly paper umbrellas and hers has three cherries as requested. I chuckle. Dixie grins and clinks her glass against mine before putting those perfect lips to the straw. I take a big sip and then put my drink down on the bar.

“Do you mind if I follow you home tonight?” I ask her with a serious stare. “Because my mother always told me to follow my dreams.”

She laughs so loudly an older couple a few feet away looks over. Dixie slaps a hand over her mouth to try to stifle the sound. When she regains composure she whispers, “That was the best one yet.”

“Thank you.” Getting a compliment from her is quickly turning my mood around. I take another sip of the Colada and smile, more at the fact that she ordered for me—with extra umbrellas—than at the drink itself. I’m a huge fan of fruity, slushy drinks. Piña Colada, Margarita, you name it, I love it. And ordering them in bars, with all their fruit and umbrella garnishes, gets attention from women, so I embrace my fruity drink fetish. She knows this. I told her when she caught me drinking a Margarita at Ryanne’s party last year after our elevator encounter, and it’s cute that she remembered.

“You shouldn’t though,” she says, bringing me back to reality. “Follow me home.”

“But you read the HR book, and you know, like I said, Storm players are not included in the nonfraternization clause.” I’m leaning as close to her as I can while still looking casual to anyone who glances over.

She looks up at me from under her lashes, and she looks so damn coy I want to pick her up, throw her on the bar and climb on top of her. I subtly reach down and readjust myself because my pants are getting tight.

“I read it and you’re right.” My victory smile is cut off as she shakes her head. “But tonight you’re here to be part of the team, so you’re off-limits. Technically.”

“Lucky for you I’m not a technical person,” I counter. “I’m about feeling and instinct. You should forget rules and technicalities and just let yourself have a little fun. With me.”

She focuses her pretty blue eyes on me, and I can see she’s considering it. “We agree though, if this happens, it’s one and done. We get naked, get each other out of our systems and move on. That’s the plan, okay?”

“You’re kind of obsessed with rules and plans, huh?” I watch her take a long sip of her drink and use the tip of her little pink tongue to swipe a dollop from her lips.

“Plans are good. Rules keep chaos at bay,” she replies.

“Chaos can be fun.” I grip my Piña Colada glass tighter so I don’t reach out and wipe away that little drip that landed on the corner of her lip. “I’m going to make you love losing control, sweet Dixie.”

Her eyes darken and her cheeks slowly fill with color. But she fights it like a champ, clearing her throat, throwing back the rest of her Piña Colada and taking a step away from me. “You should mingle, Elijah. That’s what you’re here for.”

“I didn’t come for the fans. I came for you.” I lower my voice and put my now empty glass down on the bar. “Let me come for you.”

“Holy shit…” She whispers it softly, and I see the words form more than I actually hear them. “Play by the rules, Elijah.”

“For now,” I relent and wink as I reluctantly walk away.

I make my way over to Jasper, who is standing by the auction items table taking a picture with an attractive blonde who has wrapped herself around him. I stay a safe distance back until they stop talking and she leaves, because I’m kind of maxed out on the casual banter and I’m still sporting half a hard-on, and the last thing I want is some fan wrapped around me.

Once she’s walked away, I join Jasper. He looks like a kid in a candy store. “I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

“This is insane,” he confesses excitedly. “The Thunder have a lot of hot fans. Man, I can’t wait till they call me up now. I could get used to this kind of attention very easily.”

I laugh. “The problem with fans is they’re off-limits.”

Jasper gives me a sly smirk. “There’s no such thing as off-limits in my world. Just have to be stealthy. Like a ninja.”

“You’re a fucking nut, you know that?” I shake my head, but honestly I love the guy. At least I think I do until he takes another sip of his drink and then points subtly across the bar to my girl.

“Who is the hot little blond package you were talking with at the bar?”

“She works for the team,” I reply, my voice stiff. “Sorry, my ninja buddy.”

The glint of mischief in Jasper’s eye gets even more glinty and mischievous. “What’s her name? What does she do?”

“Dixie Wynn. Publicist, player relations.” I sound like my dad suddenly. He always sounds like someone just scratched his Benz. “You touch her and you’ll likely be in the minors forever.”

The grin on his face falters for a second. “Why? You claiming her?”

“I can’t. She’s off-limits,” I mutter back and suddenly wish I had another drink. “Once I make it up, full-time, I’m not doing anything that will get me shipped back down. The rules are pretty clear. Even Braddock didn’t screw around with employees.”

Jasper seems to really consider that, furrowing his blond brow. And then he shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Well then, fans it is!”

He wanders off to a gaggle of twenty-something women who’ve been ogling us from the bar. I don’t join him. Instead I walk the other way in search of Levi. I find him with Jude and a defenseman they call Marchie. I come to a stop beside Levi just as someone from Thunder staff takes the stage and thanks everyone for coming.

“Good. It’s over and I can get home to Zoey.” Jude sighs in relief and I try not to look shocked that he’s excited to leave a party.

“How’s she doing?” Levi asks Jude quietly as they start to announce the winners of the various auction items.

“She’s great,” Jude whispers, smiling. “The baby dropped, so it looks like she swallowed a basketball now. I think it’s adorable, but it makes it uncomfortable for her to sleep. I was Googling it and I guess sometimes a body pillow helps, so I ordered her one.”

I chuckle. They both look over at me. “I’m sorry. I just…I’d love to see the difference in your browser history now compared to like a year ago. I’m betting it’s hysterical. From porn sites to Babies ‘R’ Us.”

My brother laughs and so does Marchie. Jude kind of glares at me. “Unlike you, Baby Casco, I didn’t have to use Google to see naked women. I could just open my front door and invite one in.”

Marchie lets out a juvenile “Burn!”

“Ha. Ha.” I roll my eyes. “I did great in college.”

“Sure ya did, kid.” He pats my shoulder.

“I fucked my English professor’s wife.” It flies from my mouth in a hushed whisper before I can stop it. I mean, it’s true, but why do I feel the need to share it right now? Why am I trying to prove myself to these guys?

They’re all staring at me now with the surprise and awe I was hoping for, but somehow it doesn’t make me feel better. I’ve never sought approval before. I’ve never given a shit what anyone thought of me. This is just a further reminder that I’m not the person I used to be, and I hate it.

“How come you never mentioned this professor’s wife before?” Levi wants to know.

I shrug. “I did, actually. Remember Lilah? The one I went skiing with one spring break?”

“Whoa!” Marchie looks impressed.

My brother’s stubbled jaw drops. “You went skiing with the professor’s wife?”

“They have a ski cabin in Vermont. He stayed in Boston to grade papers,” I explain quickly because I don’t want to talk about this anymore, even though I’m the one who brought it up. “And there wasn’t actually much skiing involved.”

“Little brother has impressive game,” Jude says with a smile. “Which means you’re going to know how to take advantage of the opportunities you’ll get when you join us. Levi never did learn to enjoy the puck-bunny perks.”

“You did it enough for the rest of us,” Levi snarks at his best friend.

Jude grins and nods in agreement, and then he looks over at me. “I sowed a lot of oats, but I couldn’t be happier that chapter is closed. You’ll want it to end one day too, Baby Casco, so enjoy it now while you can.”

I nod. I don’t add that I want to sow my oats with his sister, but man do I ever. We stop talking as the Thunder employee announces the winner of the biggest auction item—that trip to Mexico the businessmen were yammering about. The winner is an old guy wearing an expensive suit. A woman who looks to be in her twenties takes the stage to claim the voucher with him. She looks thrilled. I can’t decide if she’s a trophy wife or a daughter.

“Okay, the night is over and I can go, right, Captain?” Jude asks Levi.

Levi nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”

I follow the guys out, my eyes scanning the room for one last sight of Dixie. All I want to do is stay, find her and flirt with her until I break down her defenses—every last one of them. I’m close. I fucking know it.

Jasper joins us by the door, and as we make our way down the hall to the elevators he immediately starts kissing my brother’s ass, like it’s a job interview. I roll my eyes as I walk behind them. Jesus, Jasper, he’s not the one making the hiring calls.

There’s a large group of guests waiting at the elevator bank, and I can tell, even from a few feet away as we approach, that they’re from the event. If we get in the elevator with them it’ll be like a continuation of the invasive conversations from the event, only this time with no personal space. Yeah, no. I lean in and say to Levi, “I’m going to hit the restroom. I’ll see you in the lobby.”

He nods but he’s got this look in his eye I’ve only started seeing recently, and I don’t like it. It’s concern. Levi is a serious dude. He was born that way, it’s how he’s wired. He’s quiet to a disturbing level. He’s calculated and risk-averse and loathes extreme anything, be it sports, music or emotions. But this look…the way his eyes soften but his brow pinches and his jaw stays hard, it’s new and I really hate it. It’s sympathy or guilt or concern or a mix of all those things I never want anyone to feel over me.

I turn away from it, and him, and decide to find a bathroom not near the elevators or the bar so I don’t run into anyone and start an accidental conversation. I pass the ones Dixie came out of earlier and turn left, down an even longer hallway. I see the brass signs the hotel uses to indicate restrooms hanging way at the end of the hall near the doors that lead to the hotel gym. I keep my eyes glued to it to avoid eye contact with anyone and, more than anything, to avoid seeing someone staring at my scar again. That’s happened enough tonight.

I swing open the door and am happy to find the space empty. It’s a small restroom with only two urinals and two stalls with bamboo doors. I use the urinal and then wash my hands slowly at the sink, my own eyes staring at the scar just above my shirt collar. I honestly can’t decide if the sort-of beard I’ve been keeping actually helps to hide it or just makes it stand out more. Most days it seems to hide it, but next to the crisp white of my dress shirt and in the shitastic fluorescent lighting in this restroom it feels like it’s more apparent than ever. I have this fleeting but intense moment of wanting to punch the mirror and shatter my reflection into a million jagged pieces. The urge has me gripping the sink until my knuckles are white as I take a deep breath to gain control.

The door swings open and two sharp clicks rebound through the tiny space as high heels make contact with the tile floor. I turn at the sight of her wheat-colored hair in the mirror and face her, trying to pull a smile over my face to cover the shock I’m feeling. Sweet Dixie just followed me into the bathroom? Plot twist.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Is this the men’s room?” The look of horror on her face is adorable because it’s in complete contrast with the flat, calm tone of her voice that says she knows exactly where she is.

“It is, but you know, I don’t mind sharing,” I reply, grabbing a paper towel and slowly wiping my hands with it.

She doesn’t respond, just stands there and sinks her teeth into that full bottom lip. It’s cute because she seems a little nervous. Either that or her bottom lip just tastes delicious. I hope to find out soon. I take a step away from the sink, toward her. “Dixie?”

The sweetest little hint of a smile tugs on the corners of her lips. She lets go of the door and reaches for something in her purse, moving toward me swiftly, her heels making purposeful clicks with every step. And then she’s so close I can smell her—the vanilla shampoo and the rich but faint flowery scent of her perfume. It warms my blood. She presses one palm flat to the lapel of my jacket and I feel the other one snake into my pocket, my eye catching a glimpse of paper between her fingers as they move.

“You remind me of my big toe,” she whispers, her head tilted up to face me. I tilt mine down so I can look into her eyes, and now our lips are just inches apart and perfectly lined up.

“Why is that?” My voice is low and deeper than normal. The urge to kiss her is more overpowering than the urge I had earlier to punch the mirror, so I start to lean forward, but she immediately uses her hand on my lapel to push me back gently.

Our eyes lock and she replies, “Because I’ll probably bang you on my coffee table later.”

And with that she’s gone—just spins around, flings open the door and disappears so swiftly that I swear there’s a whooshing sound. I reach into my pocket, pull out the paper she placed there and carefully unfold it. It’s a page from the Thunder HR handbook, the page about employee fraternization, and at the top of the page, in her beautiful cursive, is the word “midnight” and her address.