Page 33 of Reach Around

I wanted to pick her up—offered, insisted, argued my case—but Joely said she’d rather meet me here. ‘It’s just easier,’ she texted, followed by a winking emoji and the kind of final period you don’t mess with. Now, seeing her walk in under her own power, chin high, wild hair tumbling over that sparkly black cocktail dress, I get it. She wanted to make an entrance.

She’s glimmers under the ballroom lights, that dress hugging every curve I swear I’ve never noticed before like it was tailor-made to knock the wind right out of me. Her hair is blown out in these sexy waves that makes her look like a Hollywood diva, and her smile—God, her smile—lights up the room brighter than any of the fancy chandeliers overhead.

All conversation dies on my lips. Bennett nudges me, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he follows my gaze. “Breathe, Brogan. It supports life,” he murmurs, too low for Shep to hear over his enthusiastic devouring of hors d’oeuvres.

I try to pull myself together, to form a coherent thought, but it’s like my brain’s been rewired to focus on one thing only—Joely. The way she laughs at something one of the wives says, the graceful way she moves through the crowd, every step and turn is a punch to my gut. It’s like seeing her for the first time. No, not like a sister, not like a buddy, but as someone... shit, as someone I want in a way that’s got nothing to do with friendship.

Why did I tell her this evening wasn’t a date? I want to junk punch myself.

“She cleans up nice, huh?” Shep says, finally catching on and following my stunned gaze across the room. His tone is light, teasing, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes that tells me he’s putting two and two together.

“Yeah,” I manage to grunt out, still unable to take my eyes off her. “Nice.”

Bennett claps me on the shoulder, his grin wicked. “Looks like the winger’s finally got the puck on his tape. What’s the play, Brogan?”

“Play?” I echo, my voice rough with emotions I’m not ready to unpack, not here, not yet. “I’m still trying to figure out the rules, man.”

My swagger’s shot to hell. For the first time in years, I can’t coast on charm or play it off. I can’t even look at her the same way—hell, I can barely breathe. Every time I glance over, Joely’s just… more. More woman, more light, more dangerous than I ever let myself notice.

I keep shifting my weight, fiddling with my cuffs, hyper-aware of how sweaty my palms are. It’s like all my easy lines, all my practiced smiles—none of them work anymore. I want to go toher, say something clever, make her laugh like I always do. But my tongue’s tied in knots and every joke in my head just sounds stupid now.

Every guy in the room keeps looking at her and my skin itches, this ugly little stab of possessiveness I’ve never felt before. I want to be the guy she glances for, the one she lets in when the music gets loud and the party goes soft around the edges. And in an instant, I’m not sure what I am to her anymore—or if I ever really was what I thought.

I’m terrified. That’s the truth of it. Because if I take a run at this and blow it, it’s not just a bad night or a bruised ego. It’s losing her—the one person who’s always been in my corner, even when I didn’t deserve it.

So I hang back, swallowing my nerves, watching her glide through the crowd like she’s in her own universe. I’ve never wanted anything this much. Never felt so damn out of my depth. For the first time, I’m not Brogan the hockey player or Brogan the wise-ass. I’m just a guy realizing too late that he’s been falling for his best friend all along.

And I have no goddamn clue what to do about it.

The bar at the Miner Arena’s grand ballroom is three deep, which just figures because right now I need a drink more than ever. I press my chest against the polished wood, signaling the bartender with the kind of ease that comes from spending half your life in a place run by your own family. Beside me, Bennett’s appeared again like a bad penny, nursing what looks like his second scotch, his expression more sour than usual—if that’s even possible.

“You look like a guy who has experienced the awakening,” he remarks without preamble, eyeing me like I’m a rookie who missed an easy pass.

I snort, rolling my eyes, though my gut tightens just a bit. “You’re full of shit.” I order a couple of drinks, one for me andone for Joely, and glance over at her. She’s chatting with Mom, laughing at something, and damn if she doesn’t look stunning doing it. “What’s the awakening?” I ask, partly to keep my brother talking and partly because I’m not sure I want to know his definition.

“The friend zone has melted like ice in spring. And much like seeds in warm dirt, Little Brogan is dancing in your pants. That… is the awakening,” he declares, straight-faced. “Now you’re calculating the odds of surviving a tentpole situation in a rented tux.”

“Did you just refer to my dick as little?” I fire back, my face heating up despite the coolness of the bar.

“That’s how I remember it,” Bennett shoots back with a smirk.

“I was three! And nothing is dancing in my pants,” I grumble, taking the drinks from the bartender. The weight of the glasses in my hand doesn’t stop my heart from racing, a sure sign Bennett’s words are hitting closer to home than I’d like. “You’re such an asshole.”

He shrugs, smug as hell. “Hey, I’ve been there. But trust me, man, you’re not fooling anybody. Especially not yourself. That thing is wide awake. Because it turns out that our little Joely is a total smokeshow.”

I grip the drinks, forcing myself to breathe, willing my brain (and everything else) to calm the hell down. I shoot him a glare. “I’m doing my best to keep it in a deep sleep. But you’re not helping.”

I watch Joely across the room—smiling, radiant, dangerous—and I know I’m screwed. There’s no putting this back to sleep. Not tonight.

“So, since your dick is in a deep sleep, you don’t mind that Shep is coming in hot,” Bennett adds casually, his gaze flicking past me to where Shep’s making his way through the crowd, probably headed right towards Joely.

“Shep? He’s my best friend. He wouldn’t… fuck.” The word slips out, harsh and a little desperate, as I set the drinks back down and push away from the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

“You better not be right back, you moron,” Bennett calls after me, but I’m already moving, my focus narrowed to the figure weaving through the glittering crowd.

Every step I take is fueled by a mix of irritation and a protective instinct I didn’t even know was there until Bennett pointed it out. Shep’s like a brother to me, sure, but the thought of him playing his unconventional, Woooooo!, hand me a flare, my dick is huge, pickup routine on Joely twists something deep in my chest.

As I close the distance, I see Shep reaching Joely, his hand touching her elbow lightly, his head bending down to say something that makes her laugh. That laugh, her laugh, it’s supposed to be for me, isn’t it? Or maybe I want it to be. Shit, this is all kinds of messed up.

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