Page 9 of The Triple Play

Not after they'd fucked me in my fantasy.

But Elliot was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes, tugging at my heartstrings despite being my greatest annoyance of the evening, and I knew I didn’t really have a choice here.

“Fine,” I grumbled, pulling my pen back out of my bag. “You owe me.”

I didn’t wait for a muttered thank you or an appreciative glance, knowing I likely wouldn’t get one. Instead, I pushed forward, grabbing a handful of napkins from a dispenser and using my shoulders to create space in the crowd as I made my way up to the bar. I was tempted to slip behind the counter so I could at least have breathing room, but I didn’t want to get in my coworkers’ way.

There wasn’t a single part of me that knew what the hell I was going to say.

Hi, I’m Annie, remember me? My boyfriend needs your autographs, he’s working on a novel about the NHL. I know you have no reason to give that to me and you’ve probably got better things to do right now, but pretty please?

I internally cringed at myself, axing that idea almost immediately. I could play it cool. I’d handled it well enough with Cole — so well, in fact, that he’d, for some reason, given me hisnumber.

Oh, god. Does he think I’m a puck bunny?

No. I'm a good girl.

Shit. One that has foursome fantasies.

Heat crept into my cheeks as I finally broke through, stopping directly in front of the three of them. They stood at the bar together, towering over almost everyone around them, beer bottles in hand — the kind of men that made casual onlookers glance twice and puck bunnies stop and stare, or worse, attempt to climb them. I wasn’t even sure whether it was because they werethemor just because they looked likethat.

Colton Miller spotted me first.

He was the biggest thing in the goddamn room — all broad shoulders and long legs, his muscular body taking up more space than necessary as if hebelongedin the center of anything and everything. His shoulder-length black hair was tied low at the nape of his neck, a few face-framing strands falling loose around features thatshouldhave looked intimidating. But they didn’t. Not with that dimple poking into his cheek.

Colton was the kind of guy who shamelessly flirted with anyone, all confidence and cocky charm that was only propped up by the girls who threw themselves at him every time he was in here. But the second his narrowed blue eyes locked onto me, a smirk cut across his cheeks.

His elbow went out, nudging Xavi in the side as his gaze roamed from my sneakers to my rolling eyes. “Annie, right?” he drawled, tipping his beer toward me and winking. “Took you long enough.”

Oh my god, theyallthink I’m a puck bunny.

My mouth went dry at the thought, my cheeks becoming uncomfortably warm. “Uh, yeah, I?—”

“She’s here for an autograph,” Xavi deadpanned, taking a sip of his beer and motioning toward the pen in my hand. His accent was a little northern, similar to my boss Gabriel’s. I wasprettysure Xavi was his son, but they didn’t look anything alike. “Not for you.”

Xavi leaned back against the bar, his elbows resting on either side of him, almost hiding just how lean and long he was. He was built, of course, what hockey player wasn’t — but his broader shoulders gave way to long limbs, a narrow waist, and thighs that looked so obscenely good in jeans that I had to physically avert my gaze back upward. He looked almost half-bored and half-amused, his black hair a carefully constructed mess, overgrown like he’d been meaning to cut it for weeks and just never got around to it.

Where Colton was all show, Xavi was quieter about his arrogance. He didn’t need to run his mouth to let you know that hecould, if he wanted to. That was until he got a few drinks in him and stared at me without a hint of inhibition the last time he was in here. His wide, blue eyes flicked over me before turning to Colton, not nearly as invading a stare as his friend’s, but still just as intimidating.

“Justan autograph?” Colton said, narrowing his eyes at me before jutting his lower lip out. “Ouch. Way to wound my ego, Annie. And to think, you were my favorite bartender…”

I blinked confusedly, trying to wrap my head around what was happening here, and glanced up at Cole, hoping he’d realize from the short interaction we’d had why I was over here. But he was the only one not staring at me outright — he was far more interested in his drink than whatever nonsense the other two were spewing. Salt-and-pepper black hair, warm brown eyes, solid and stocky whereas the other two were all height and limbs. He had the kind of attitude that came with experience, the weight of someone who had seen it all, done it all, and clearly didn’t have time for the theatrics anymore.

His gaze flicked to mine briefly, but it was completely unreadable. Great — guess I was handling this on my own.

I held up the napkins and pen, trying not to look like a complete idiot and probably failing. “I, uh, was just hoping you guys would sign this.”

“Yeah? This for you, sweetheart?” Colton chirped, his grin widening slowly as he reached forward, slipping the pen right out from between my clutched fingers and twirling it in his grasp.

I almost laughed at his shameless flirting, stifling the hint of a chuckle before it could make its way out of me. “No, it’s?—”

“It’s for herboyfriend, Colton,” Cole said casually, tipping his beer back and taking a swig.

Surprising no one, not even me, Colton physicallywilted. His shoulders sagged, his head tipping back in an exasperated groan as if I’d just run him over with my car. “Annie,” he said, my name sounding like a complaint. “Tell me he’s joking.”

I let myself laugh at that, my hand instinctively covering my mouth. “Why would that be a joke?”

His hand clutched his heart as if I’d just wounded him. “Becausethis,” he started, gesturing vaguely between me and him with his beer, “hadpotential.”

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