Page 3 of Stick Fight

I grin, unfazed. Not everyone loves hockey. “Do you remember Easton Hart?”

Gabby shakes her head. Right. Easton, as well as my teammate Elias, who is also from our hometown, are older than us. She wouldn’t have known them from high school. “What about Rip Hart?”

She nods, and I chuckle. Of courseshe knows Rip Hart. Everyoneknows Rip Hart. He’s a total lunatic on the ice, and if the latest rumors are true, he’s about to be traded to the Bucks. “Easton is his older brother,” I explain. “He’s getting married. I’m here for the wedding.”

The second the wordweddingleaves my mouth, her face falls, and dammit, that pain cutsme.

“I’m sorry, Gabby,” I say, meaning it.

She shakes her head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Then, with a forced smile, she stands, tilting her chin up just slightly, like she’s trying to prove something to herself. “It was good seeing you, Roman. I’ll get out of here so you can enjoy the hot tub.”

And just like that, she’s slipping away.

I should let her go.I should.

But I can’t.

If she really had somewhere to be, or someone to be with, she wouldn’t have been hiding out here in the first place. And whatever happened tonight, whatever has her looking like she’s barely holding it together, she shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.

“Where are you going?” I ask. She hesitates. Just for a second. But it’s enough. A stricken look flashes across her face, and Iget it. She hasnowhereto go. Something bad—reallybad—went down tonight.

“Gabby—”

“It’s okay, Roman,” she interrupts. “None of this is your problem.”

She’s right. It’s not.But that’s not going to stop me from helping an old friend who clearly needssomeone.

“Gabby—” I try again.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But.” Before she can cut me off again, I rush out with, “Why don’t you come back to my room? No questions, no talking. It’s a suite. One bed, but it’s yours. I was planning on gambling all night anyway.” A little lie, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She looks like she’s about to argue, but then she shakes her head, starting with, “Roman?—”

I cut her off, my voice firm but gentle, “Gabby.”

I stretch my hand out to her, and her shoulders sag with exhaustion. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“What about, you know? The bridesmaids?”

Okay, so she might not follow hockey, but she sure as hell knows about my reputation. I flash her a wink. “Rip has it covered.”

Her face tightens as she glances toward the hot tub. “You were planning on having a soak.”

I wipe my brow in mock exasperation. “It’s too hot. Maybe I’ll take a cold shower instead.”

She nods, but when I place my hand gently on the small of her back to guide her toward the door, she suddenly halts, her eyes wide with discomfort. “I can’t go out there like this. It’s too embarrassing.”

My gaze drops to her designer dress. Damn, she looks incredible in it. But I shrug, trying to keep things light. “Trade with me.”

When I glance up, I catch the flicker of surprise on her face before she bursts into a soft laugh, curling around us like a wave. “You’re not seriously suggesting we switch clothes.”

“Why not?” I reply with a grin, leaning back as though it’s no big deal.

She laughs harder, swatting me playfully. And then, without thinking, I grab her hand. The first thing I notice is the softness of her skin. Damn it, don’t go there, Roman. She just got ‘unhappily’ married in Vegas. Focus.

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