03
A low whistle traveled down the phone line. « That sucks, man, but hopefully you can find some way to entertain yourself. »
Looking around the small box of a room I was currently in—consisting of nothing more than a queen-size bed, a desk, and a fairly ancient looking television set—I knew the way to do that was certainly not here.
« I’ll probably head down to the bar in a bit, » I said. « Grab a beer or something, maybe see if they’ve got any games playing. »
« Or you can see if there are any women around who catch your eye, » he drawled with amusement. « You’ve got the night off now. Have some fun. »
As I held back an eye roll at his suggestion, flashes of red braids, a captivating smile, and beautiful moss green eyes invaded my mind. I’d lost track of my incredibly attractive and hopefully single seat mate back in the craziness of the airport, but as the memory of her came racing back, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d also been put up in this hotel. And if she had, maybe trying to find her and seeing how things would’ve played out had our conversation on the plane not been cut short wasn’t such a bad idea.
« We’ll see about that, » I said. « And anyways, don’t you have somewhere to be ? »
« Yeah, yeah, Wellsley, I’m heading out now. I’ll be sure to recount your sob story to the guys and tell them you say hi. »
I chuckled. « I’ll see you tomorrow. »
« Later, bud. »
Tossing my phone down on the bed, all I could hope for was my luck to do a one-eighty. Otherwise, this night—like most of the day—would end up being a total write off.
Twenty minutes later, the elevator door dinged, sliding open to reveal a nearly empty lobby. There were two workers stationed behind the check-in desk who acknowledged me with a smile as I crossed the room, headed for the small bar I knew to be slightly down the hall and to the left. And as I turned the corner, I knew my choice to shower and switch out my sweats for a clean t-shirt and jeans was the right one, because sitting at the bar, her back toward me, was the woman I’d been hoping to find.
Her naturally red hair had been shaken out of its braids, now cascading down her back, and a pair of wire frames that hadn’t been there earlier perched on her nose. She seemed more chilled and at ease as she nursed a beer, not at all bothered by the few other guests scattered around the bar.
Knowing she had yet to notice me, I took the lead, walking the few steps it took to reach the stool next to hers and said, « we’ve got to stop bumping into each other like this. »
Turning to face me, the surprise was evident in her features—arched brows, wide eyes, and slightly parted lips—but it melted away quickly when recognition took its place. « Hey. »
« Hey, » I echoed, the corners of my lips ticking upward when I nodded down to the free seat. « You mind if I… ? »
She shook her head and gestured to the stool. « Go ahead. »
Silently thanking someone upstairs that she didn’t turn me away, I slid into the spot beside her, though I was immediately pounced on by the bartender before I could get another word out. And out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smirk when I asked him what kind of beer they had, only to get a minute-long spiel about the different kinds of ales and lagers the hotel sourced from local distributors.
« Remind me to just order a Heineken next time, » I muttered once the bartender finally left, though I couldn’t deny the stout he’d poured looked damn good.
« Don’t worry, I made the same mistake when I sat down, » she admitted, bringing her glass closer to mine to cheers. The echoing clink of the glasses filled the air around us as I took a long gulp. « So, I guess I’m not the only one who decided taking the airline up on a free hotel room beat heading back home for the night ? »
« Guess not, » I drawled. « Though that reminds me, I never did get an answer as to why you’d planned to fly back to Boston on New Year’s Eve. » I lifted a brow. « No boyfriend to cozy up to and kiss at midnight ? »
Her lips twitched as she brought her beer up to try and hide her smile. « Smooth. »
I shrugged unapologetically. She knew the question was really a way for her to let me know whether or not to back off, and I had no problem admitting that. « I never claimed to be subtle, sweetheart. »
« True, I guess professional athletes don’t really have subtlety baked into their bones, eh ? » My movements froze at the phrase professional athlete, my hand clutching my glass in mid-air. As I slowly met her gaze, I noticed the knowing glint in her eyes. « Thought you could hide that little fact from me ? »
« I wasn’t necessarily trying to hide it, » I admitted, « but it’s not normally something I lead with. »
« Really ? » she asked, a bit of disbelief twisting her words.
« Really. And besides, I’m not that big of a player that most people would recognize me anyways, unless they’re from Boston. » I took another swig of my beer. « I am curious when you put it together though. »
« On the plane, right before the flight got canceled and everything went to shit, » she said, and I snorted a laugh. She then gestured to the television behind the bar she’d been watching before I’d interrupted. « Plus, things were pretty much confirmed about twenty minutes ago when one of your goals from earlier in the season was shown on a replay segment. »
« The beauty from our game in Toronto last month ? »
« That’d be the one. »
« Yeah, that was a good night, » I said, reminiscing back to the moment one of the Toronto defensemen had tripped me from behind when I’d been on a breakaway. Yet against all odds, I’d still gotten enough power on the shot before I’d faceplanted that the puck sailed cleanly through the goalie’s five-hole, becoming the game winner for the night. « But now that you know my name, I feel like we’re on a bit of an uneven playing field here since I don’t know yours. »
She eyed me for a moment, not immediately answering, but from the twinkle in her eyes I could tell she was only trying to make me sweat.
« It’s Lia, » she finally said.
« Lia, » I repeated, the name rolling off my tongue. « Well, Lia, I take it you’re a hockey fan ? »
« I am… sometimes, » she admitted, running her finger along the rim of her glass. « If I’m being honest, I’m actually more of a football fan. » The cockiness I knew to be present in my grin immediately vanished, causing Lia to throw her head back with laughter. « What ? Didn’t expect that ? »
I shook my head slowly with an ounce of disbelief and said, « Honestly, no. These days it’s rare to find a woman who’s interested in hockey, let alone other sports. »
« Then clearly you’re looking in the wrong places. »
« Clearly. »
She quirked a brow. « Though I find it hard to believe it’s hard to find women interested in hockey. Isn’t the term puck bunny still a thing ? »
« You’re right, » I conceded with a snort of a laugh. « I stand corrected, but those women are usually interested in one thing, and it’s not what I can do out on the ice. »