Page 26 of Feels Like the First Time
“Good thing I brought pie then,” a sexy and surprising voice said from inside. “Can’t have pie without milk.”
Ali peeked into the studio to find Hawk on her couch. His long legs stretched out, feet on the coffee table, making himself right at home—reading a magazine.
Ali dropped the groceries in the fridge, reached over the pie box, and grabbed herself a beer. She popped the top off and took a pull. “I’d offer you one, but then you’d think it was an invitation to stay.”
“You say that like you want me to go,” he said, his eyes never leaving the magazine.
“I do want you to go.” She knocked his feet off her coffee table then sat next to him on the couch—and pointed with a jerk of her chin. “There’s the door.”
“I see. You know, you really should beef up your security.” He slid her an amused glance.
“I’ll talk to management.” She took a swig of beer. “Now, leave.”
“Can’t. It seems I have a party to plan, and my assistant’s been holding out on me.”
“Your assistant? Luke would be offended if he heard you call him that.”
“Not Luke.” His eyes looked over the magazine and met hers. “You, sunshine.”
She snorted. “In your dreams.”
Hawk gave her a slow once-over, pausing at her lips, her throat, grinning right before he reached her cleavage. Which thanks to modern lingerie technology, she could pass for an almost C rather than her barely there B’s. “In my dreams you’re wearing that dress.” His gaze locked on hers. “What am I wearing in yours?”
“My boot print, on your ass.”
He wiggled a brow. “Kinky, but a bit risqué for this kind of event. Don’t you think?”
Hawk flipped the magazine around to show her a photo of an elegantly dressed couple dancing under twinkle light filled mason jars, which hung from an old oak tree.
Ali choked on her beer. “Is that a wedding magazine?”
“I bought it for the articles.” His grin vanished. “There’s a great one on how to throw the perfectShe said Yesparty. It’s all about the signature cocktail. Which comes in a fancy glass and not from the tap.”
“Why do you care what kind of glasses it comes in?”
“Because I have to, A, order those fancy glasses from a rental company; B, break my one standing rule, everything good comes from the tap; and C, be in attendance for another one of Bridget’s famous parties. One of the few things in the divorce that I actually didn’t mind saying good-bye to.”
Ah, so Bridget did the unthinkable and invited Hawk.
“You don’t have to go to the party,” Ali said, a ping of unease at the thought of walking into that party knowing Hawk wouldn’t be there. “I’m sure she just put you on the list because there is some etiquette book that claims inviting ex-spouses to upcoming nuptials helps in the healing process or some BS.”
“Oh, I’m not going as a guest,” he said. “She’s bringing the party to my place. The Penalty Box to be exact. I’ll be pouring drinks for her and the man of her dreams.”
Ali could have assured him that Bridget would never agree to have her party held in a place that plastered theirI’D TAP THATtagline in bright neon across the wall and on every souvenir.
By the irritated look on Hawk’s face, that would have been the sweet thing to do.
Only Ali was never crowned Home Town Sweetheart—that sash belonged to Bridget. Which was all right with her, since sashes were a hazard around a blowtorch. Not to mention a sweet girl wouldn’t let Hawk squirm—and Ali loved to watch Hawk squirm.
There was something about the NHL’s biggest badass looking as if he were about to eat the ice that made her day. If fact, it had become one of her favorite pastimes. Yet she couldn’t manage to muster up even an ounce of joy over his discomfort.
“Bridget wants a party to impress all of her hoity-toity friends,” Ali said, suddenly wondering if that was really what her sister wanted. She’d believed Bridget when she’d said she’d be happy with small and quaint. “And I don’t think that includes flat screens and beer pong.”
“Then you might want to tell your dad that since he called me tonight and booked the entire bar for a private event.”
That caught her completely off guard, so when Hawk went for her beer again, she let him have it. “Please tell me you said no.”
“How could I say no to Marty?” he asked.
