Liam
This dress is, at most, a few scraps of shimmery thin fabric in the color of Stormy’s eyes, barely held together by a couple strands of sparkly beads over her shoulders and midway between her belly button and spectacular tits. It’s so short her legs look like they go for miles. And the shoes.
Damn.
Jesus, those shoes look like they ought to come with their own rating, and it’s taking every fucking thing I have not to imagine those glittering spiked heels at my thighs— I swallow hard. By my ears. Draped over my shoulders as I sink my tongue deep into—
Fuuuck. Shake it off, man.
Every single one of these guys is watching her like they’re about to drop their gloves and start pulling jerseys for her. I’m already reaching for the back of Kellog’s shirt when she sees me.
“Liam, you came!” She breaks away from Nichols’s side, something I’d swear is relief in her eyes as she shimmies past the idiots too distracted to move for her.
“Noel said you weren’t coming. God, I’m glad you changed your mind,” she sings, moving into my side as my arm comes around her, that beast in my chest chilling the fuck out.
Damn, this girl fits.
“I wasn’t, but when he said you’d be here, I figured since we both hate parties, maybe we could hate this one together.”
“Yes!”
I love the way that smile opens up for me. “Pretty sure my teammates are going to be gunning for me when we hit the ice tomorrow, though.” Looking over her head, I wink at the guys still staring after her like they had any chance with a woman like her.
Static flips me off, and I grin. “You’re gorgeous, and that dress is killer.”
Her eyes drop. “Don’t suppose you have a suit jacket around here somewhere, though?”
I check my charcoal slacks and black dress shirt.
“Did I need one?”
“No, no you’re fine. You look great,” she assures, with a pretty shake of her head. It sends a dark curl into the valley between her breasts, and I force myself not to stare. “This dress is maybe just a little too killer for me.”
At my raised brow, she goes on. “Misty decided it’s time I get on with my dating life and hijacked me after work, brought me downtown to a spectacular hotel suite to get ready for the party, and then stole my clothes while I showered. All my clothes, Liam. And then she left me with this. I know it’s beautiful, but I’m not a ‘two strings of spaghetti and a couple scarves’ type of girl.”
“Damn. She means business.”
“And here she comes,” she says with a look that’s part accusation, part adoration. “Misty.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” her sister scolds, wagging a finger my way. “Stormy already said you guys were just friends, so, sorry, Diesel, but… cockblocker, be gone.”
Stormy coughs, and I rub a hand over the bare expanse of her back.
Holy shit, there’s nothing there.
“Cockblocker?” I turn my attention back to Misty, choosing to ignore the reference to Stormy and I being just friends. Because that’s not exactly where my head is right now even though it should be.
“Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened back at the Five Hole, mister. Everyone thought you two were together. And you let them.”
Yeah. Sorry, not sorry.
Misty’s posture relaxes, and she takes Stormy’s hand in hers and leans in.
“I want you to have a little fun, is all. And by fun, I mean I want some guy’s tongue tonsil-deep in your mouth at midnight. Preferably with the accompanying sketchy photo showing up on social so Ray can see.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try not to let the image take root. But it’s too late.
Only it’s not going to be one of my teammates or some random from this party kissing her at midnight.
It’s going to be me.
Stormy
Noel comes over with a couple of friends, his arms swallowing Misty in a big hug like it’s been weeks since they touched instead of minutes.
Liam excuses himself to get a drink at the bar, leaving me to shiver at my sister’s side in this stupid dress. Of course, Misty tells him to take his time.
She’s feisty and determined, but so very misguided.
Even if I was shopping for a hookup at this party, this dress isn’t me. I don’t like strangers staring at my belly button or having a bird’s-eye view of the freckle at the base of my spine. And my back feels like it’s about to cramp from how hard I’m working to hold the posture necessary to avoid flashing everyone.
I should have worn the pants suit.
But as it is, I’m just counting the seconds until Liam comes back and I can take shelter against his side.
I turn to check on him at the bar, and jealousy burns through me as one of the servers rests her hand on his upper arm.
Not only is she touching him like they have some kind of special secret, but her dress covers twice what mine does.
He bows down so she can speak into his ear.
My belly tightens uncomfortably.
Inexplicably.
What do I care if he’s letting some pretty girl in a short skirt chat him up? I don’t.
I shouldn’t.
He’s not actually mine.
I start to turn away but can’t quite make it happen without turning back for one more look.
And that’s when I see it.
Liam smiles. Like a real smile, and nods… following as the woman leads him away.
I stare. Processing.
It doesn’t matter. We’re friends. Not even. We’re friendly. Heck, he gave me his divorce lawyer to make sure we got moving on it. We don’t even text to keep in touch. So why can’t I wrap my head around what just happened?
“Stormy, have you met Jamie?”
I turn back to my sister, who’s grinning beside one of the men we were talking with earlier. I recognize him, but no, we haven’t actually been introduced yet.
Pushing my shoulders back and my smile into place, I offer my hand. “Not officially. Hi, I’m Stormy Hendricks.”
He takes my hand and, instead of shaking, brings it to his mouth where he holds it, looking me over top to bottom, before giving it a kiss that has my brows knitting together.
Is this guy for real?
“Damn, I’ve been waiting all year for a dress like this.”
Mmm. “All the credit goes to Misty,” I supply dryly, shooting my sister a glare.
She cringes and mouths “Sorry” as this Jamie person tells me about how he’s “athlete adjacent” since he owns a sports drink company or something.
There’s a warm tingle between my shoulder blades, like an awareness starting in the skin but heating through me until I feel it bloom in the center of my chest. Misty’s eyes narrow on something behind me. Someone.
Turning, I lose my breath at the sight of Liam closing in.
He’s wearing a snug black T-shirt still holding fold marks and an “inspected by” sticker on the straining short sleeve. In his hands is a crumpled bag from one of those online delivery services and—
“Oh my God,” my sister gasps from behind me. “Is that your shirt?”
Liam shrugs, holding the garment up. “I run hot.” Eyes locked with mine, he adds, “But you were mentioning being cold earlier… Did you want to wear this?”
My eyes drop to the black shirt, and I fling my arms around his waist.
There’s a slight tension and pop at the tie beneath my arm, followed by a cool breeze where there definitely shouldn’t be one. No!
“Oh shit,” my sister hisses, lunging in to plaster herself against my side. “We’ve got boob.”
“What!”
Noel’s eyes bug, and he grabs Jamie, hauling him away.
But Liam’s already covering me with his still-warm shirt, helping me get my arms into the sleeves that have already been rolled and safety-pinned.
Ducking down so his mouth is next to my ear, he murmurs so quietly, no one can hear but me, “Come on. Tell me I’m the best husband you ever had.”
“Hands-down, the very best,” I answer, pretty sure it would be true even if I’d had a dozen of them. “You sure you don’t want to sign on to this gig forever? Tell everyone so they stop trying to find us someone else?”
He draws back a few inches, and our eyes meet, the same magnetic hold pulling me toward him when I should be leaning away.
Liam chuckles gruffly. “If I said yes, could we keep this dress?”
Liam
After the wardrobe malfunction, Misty gives me permission to cockblock at will, and Stormy and I find a relatively quiet corner in the back of the VIP floor. We’re standing side by side at a tall table. She’s got a glass of champagne, and I’ve got a bourbon, but neither of us have really been drinking.
Mostly, I've been telling her stories about the team. Listening to her melodic laughter and wishing I wasn’t such an introverted fucker so I’d have more to share. More ways to keep that laugh coming.
Because when it stops, slowing first and then fading to a smile that’s soft and sweet, I can’t stop looking at her.
Maybe it’s a good thing this girl is moving to Seattle.
A whistle cuts through the music, and we both turn to where one of the servers is standing on the bar. Cupping her hands at her mouth, she calls out a one-minute warning to midnight.
The music changes to a heavy pulse, and there’s a flurry of movement in the background. People pulling out their phones to document the last seconds of the closing year, I guess.
But my attention is on Stormy.
She peers up at me. “I didn’t realize how close to midnight it was.”
“I did.”
Her lips part, and even beneath the club lighting, I can see that faint blush breaking over her cheeks.
She blinks, and suddenly it’s there. That same look from Vegas. The one that’s curious and bold and daring.
The one that says, Yes.
I cock my head. “I mean, it’s not like it would be real.”
She bites her bottom lip. “No more so than this marriage.”
“It’s New Year’s.”
“Tradition,” she whispers, turning into me… Waiting.
Our eyes hold as the anticipation builds.
The countdown starts, and her hand moves to rest lightly at my chest. Mine slides beneath her hair.
There’s a whisper of vulnerability in her eyes, and my heart thuds hard.
“Just one,” I say, though who I’m telling, I’m not sure.
A nod. “Just one.”
Jesus, the half-breathless way she says it is almost as hot as the way she’s staring at my mouth.
Three… Two… One…