Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

Napping on the plane? Check.

Firing away at numbers on her laptop, oblivious to everyone else? Double check.

Watching me through the glass with a concerned little look while I skated? Hell yes, check.

But this?

Fuck, I wanted to eat her alive. Wanted to know if she tasted as sweet as she looked—if that cotton candy colored dress would slip away from her skin easily to make room for my mouth.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking,” I told her, trying to keep the other thoughts to a minimum.

“Thank you. It’s already my favorite birthday ever.” She smiled, and my compliment came to fruition. She literally knocked the wind out of me.

“Let’s see what we can do to make it even better.” I offered her my arm, and she took it.

The five of us piled into the limo, and fifteen minutes later we were at a nightclub I couldn’t name, but had been promised it was one of the places to be in LA this week.

“Drink?” I asked Harper over the thumping bass music.

“Appletini, please!” she answered, her face already flushed with excitement.

“Really? I took you for more of a straight-up gin martini girl.” She never said what I expected her to, which was probably one of the reasons I was so fucking intrigued by her.

She shrugged, already swaying to the beat. “I like to mix it up. Tonight I’m in the mood for sweet!”

“Let’s go!” Faith grabbed Harper’s hand, and they headed onto the floor.

I sat on a roped-off couch with Lukas—Sawyer electing to sit at the bar—and ordered drinks while the girls danced a few yards away.

“Join us!” Faith called to Lukas, but he just laughed and shook his head.

“I’m rather enjoying the show,” he answered, content to sit back and watch her enjoy herself.

I thanked the waitress for the exceptionally fast drink delivery, put my water on the table and took Harper’s appletini out to her as the song changed. I had to laugh. Four hours ago eighteen thousand people had been screaming my name, for better or worse, and now I was delivering drinks to a girl who thought I was too inconvenient to date. Not that I wanted to date.

“Thank you!” She grinned and took her drink, tipping it back and emptying the glass.

My jaw dropped.

“Harper, that’s…” Wait, was I supposed to lecture a birthday girl?

“Pure alcohol?” she answered, licking a stray drop of green liquor from her upper lip. She handed me the glass and pulled a piece of paper from where it was tucked into her bra. “Don’t worry. I made a chart.” She spread the paper out and turned so I could see it.

“You made a drinking chart,” I said slowly.

“Yep, I didn’t want to carry my phone tonight to use an app. This chart is based off my BMI and metabolic rate. As long as I stay on this line with the timing of my alcohol consumption, I’ll be just fine! Pleasantly buzzed, but fine!” She smiled up at me, her eyes all sparkly and excited and I just...nodded.

There were so many ways that little paper could go wrong, but I wasn’t raining on her birthday parade.

“Dance with me?” she asked, and I froze.

The last thing either of us needed was me grinding up on her ass. Then there would be zero doubt about our chemistry, or how willing my body was to take that chemistry to the nuclear level.

“Not tonight.” Damn, that was not what I wanted to say. “Tonight I’m part spectator, part bodyguard. You just have a good time with your best friend.”

She kept her smile, making me wonder how much practice she had with no. How often she’d been denied something she’d wanted. Suddenly I very much wanted to give her what she asked for, which was why I walked away.

Songs came and went, the girls came and sat with us only to get up and head back out to the floor. She’d had three appletinis in as many hours, which I knew was on her chart, but I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d accounted for the shot Sawyer had brought her, or the one Faith had insisted she try.

When she stumbled on the platform we sat on, I got to her before she could go down all the way. My hands gripped her waist as I lifted her to our level, and her fingers bit into the flesh of my biceps.

“You’re so strong!” she giggled. “I mean, I know that, of course, I’ve seen you shirtless and weightlifting and all that, but I can feel it.” Her fingers flexed on my muscles to prove her point.

“Oh, my sweet little Harper,” I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re drunk.”

“What?” She let go of my arms, and I made sure she was steady before I took my hands off her waist. The chart made another appearance, and she smoothed it out, turning so her back was against my chest.