Bennett (On the Line 2)

“Cool it, assholes,” Killian growled at us. “I don’t want to listen to anymore ballbusting from Coach tonight.”

I gave Liam the silent treatment on the ride to Cosmos, a downtown bar lots of business-types frequented. I liked the vibe here; it wasn’t filled with puck sluts and strippers like some places.

I had nothing against those women, but they weren’t for me. Cosmos always had women I could talk to before taking them home. I’d met teachers and several women who worked in offices here. Women who worked in offices were damn sexy, with their glasses and heels and skirts.

Liam clapped me on the shoulder and tilted his head toward a table of well-dressed women in their twenties.

“The ring,” he murmured.

I shook my head and glared at him.

“Let’s get a drink first. I haven’t even looked around.”

“We can drink over there.”

“Fine.” I sighed and muttered again, “Asshole.”

We headed in the direction of the table, and when we got within a few feet of it, Liam started patting his coat like he’d lost something. He frantically checked the pockets and gave me a panicked look.

“It’s gone, Bennett. What am I gonna do?”

“Are you sure? Maybe it’s stuck in the bottom of your pocket.”

He checked the pockets again and groaned. “I can’t believe this. It’s awful. Shit, what am I gonna do? It’s irreplaceable—one of a kind. Just like she was.”

His grimace was forlorn, and one of the women at the table turned toward him. “Is everything okay?”

Liam’s shoulders dropped with defeat. “I lost something valuable.”

“Oh, no. What did you lose?”

The blonde put her hand over her heart, and all the other women were now focused on Liam, too.

“A wedding ring,” Liam said. “I can’t . . .” He swallowed back his emotion.

Another of the women slid down from her tall chair. “Your wedding ring? You lost it?”

Liam shook his head sadly. “It wasn’t mine. It was . . . my late wife’s.”

The collective gasp from the women made me want to roll my eyes and tell Liam to cut the shit. The fucker had never been close to married.

“We were only married for three months before she passed five years ago,” he said softly. “I wear it around my neck just to remind me that maybe someday . . . I can find a love like that again. I’m a hockey player and I have to take it off for games, but I keep it in this pocket.”

“We’ll help you find it,” the dark-haired woman now standing next to him said. “Don’t worry.”

Liam met her eyes and gave her a small smile. “That’s so nice of you . . .”

“Noelle,” she finished. “I’m Noelle.”

She was pretty, and I had no doubt I’d be seeing her in the kitchen of our apartment in the morning.

Liam reached into his pocket and looked at his phone. He sighed with relief.

“I got a text from my coach,” he said. “They found it in the locker room.”

“Great,” I said with only a hint of sarcasm.

Liam was thanking the women and being invited to join them when I wandered off. My role in his stupid-ass charade was done.