Alex (Cold Fury Hockey 1)

Seriously, woman, it’s just some ink on a piece of paper.

Monica tucks the paper in her own purse and then turns her gaze back to us, flicking her eyes between Sutton and me. We return her stare, neither of us saying a word until a heavy, awkward silence lies between us.

Finally, I say, “Hate to do this, Monica, but can you excuse us now? We really do have some important business to discuss and I’m running short on time. ”

Monica’s mouth drops open, disappointment practically oozing out of her pores. But then she stiffens her spine just a bit, realizing that she’s effectively been dismissed from our presence.

“Monica…it was nice meeting you tonight,” Sutton says kindly. “And I hope to sit next to you again during a game. ”

“Sure,” Monica says as she slides out of the booth, looking at Sutton briefly then turning her gaze back to me. “I’ll just be hanging out at the bar if you finish up and want to have a drink or something, okay?”

“Sorry, but I’m meeting some teammates a bit later and have to leave soon,” I tell her—which is an outright lie I feel no remorse for telling—and she finally takes the hint that I’m not interested. She nods her head and spins on her heel, pushing her way through the crowd until her blond curly hair is no longer visible.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out and say, “Wow. Just wow. ”

Sutton giggles and I turn to look at her. “Sorry. I let it slip where I was going after the game and she wouldn’t leave me alone. ”

“No worries. She’s gone now. ”

“Want to move to the other side of the table?” she asks me, her hazel eyes looking almost a deep green in the ambient lighting.

I most certainly don’t want to move to the other

side, already mourning the loss of her touch against me, but it would be silly to sit side by side in this booth and try to discuss the anti-drug campaign. So I slide out, take my suit coat off and toss it onto the seat opposite Sutton before sliding in behind it.

When I’m facing her, she places her hands on the table and pushes the pad of paper across the table toward me. Sutton nods her head at it and says, “Can you give me an autograph for my little brother?”

“No,” I tell her, pushing the pad back toward her.

Those eyes now light up, turning gold as anger flashes through them. “Oh, you’ll give an autograph to a sexy woman who will happily sleep with you tonight, but not to a little boy?” she snarls at me.

Chuckling, I hold my hands up in self-defense. “Easy there, tiger. I only meant no as to an autograph on a measly scrap of paper. How about a signed jersey instead?”

Sutton’s mouth flies open and her eyes go wide. “What? No, that’s too much. The paper is fine. ”

“This is for your little brother, right?”

“Yeah,” she says softly, her mouth forming into a smile filled with tenderness. It causes tiny warm fingers to start massaging deep within my chest.

“And by that look on your face right now, I’m thinking the jersey is definitely not too much. ”

“I…if you’re sure. I didn’t mean for you to give him something so extravagant. I can’t afford a jersey, but he’s such a great kid. And a huge fan, and I’d so get him a jersey if they weren’t so expensive, but maybe you could sign just a picture or—”

“Sutton, stop. The jersey is fine. I have dozens of them at my apartment. And you’re not paying for it. The team gives them to us to sign and hand out. It’s no big deal. ”

However, based on the shine in her eyes and the way her eyes are moist right now, I’m thinking I’ve done something akin to offering her the world.

She blinks hard and her eyes dry up. Clearing her throat, she says, “Thank you. You can’t begin to imagine how thrilled he’ll be. ”

“It’s my pleasure,” I tell her sincerely, because for some stupid f**king reason, the fact that I put that look on her face is causing me immense pleasure right now.

I know business is at hand, though, when her gaze loses some of the warmth and her voice comes out strong. “So…did you have something important come up this morning?”

She’s referring to our meeting that I cancelled by text message about fifteen minutes before it was set to start. “Nope. I was too hungover to get out of bed. ”

Sutton’s perfectly arched eyebrows arch even higher and she quirks her lips. “At least you’re honest. ”

“Always. Painfully so,” I concur.

“I suppose that’s a virtue, but I have to say—I’m worried that you were too hungover to come to a meeting at a drug crisis center to work on an outreach program for at-risk youth. ”

I blink at her several times, trying to determine if the censure I hear in her tone is real or not. When she pins me hard with those eyes, that were just flashing all kinds of beautiful things at me a moment ago, I do, in fact, realize that she is disapproving.

And, of course, that gets my f**king hackles up. I’ve led my entire life with my dad criticizing my every move, handing out nothing but looks of disappointment my way. I’m f**king done with that shit.

“You’re not my drug or alcohol counselor,” I snarl at her as I lean across the table toward her. “So, you can keep your opinions to yourself. ”

I expect her to back down, to maybe even shed a few tears over the venom in my voice, but she just holds my gaze, softly staring at me as if she can see all the way through to my soul. It’s disconcerting, to say the least, but I’m not about to back down.

“Look,” Sutton says with patience, her voice unassuming–nonthreatening, but still very serious. “I have the right to be worried about this. I told you, kids will spot a phony a mile away. ”