1. Tyler #3
Sara beams like she knew I would like it. “My friend Hannah—who is perpetually late—and I got promoted today.”
“That’s amazing. What do you do?”
“We work in PR for Langfield Corp. She handles the Boston Revs, and I work with the hockey team.”
Excitement rattles through my bones, and my spine snaps straight. “I just got hired by the Langfields.”
Her eyes go wide, and she slaps a hand to the bar. “Oh my god. Shut up!”
I giggle. This girl is too much, but in the best way. I’ve never met someone who shows her every emotion so freely. She’s loud, energetic, and kind.
She’s a Carrie. I can feel it. My sister would love her.
“Yes, I’ll be working in the charitable relations department.”
Though I’m from halfway across the country and not very familiar with sports in general, I recognized the Langfield name when I received the email in response to the application my sister filled out for me.
They’re well-known all over the US, and probably in other countries, and not just because of the five gorgeous Langfield siblings—four of whom are single—or because they have more money than the royal family.
No, I was familiar with them because of their charity work.
The Langfields donate an obscene amount to medicine yearly. Especially children’s hospitals that specialize in cancer research.
Working for them is a dream I would never have even considered. One that, if I think too hard on, may make me burst into tears.
“Oh my gosh. Your office is on the same floor as mine.” Sara squeals. “This is going to be so amazing.”
“What’s amazing?” A woman appears on Sara’s other side, settling on a stool and plopping her clutch down on the bar.
Her wavy hair is a lush chocolate brown, and her almond-shaped blue eyes are fanned by the longest lashes I’ve ever seen.
Just above her lip is a small Cindy Crawford–type beauty mark.
Her clutch is Louis Vuitton, and her shoes are Louboutin, making her quite possibly the coolest person I’ve ever seen.
“I could just about kill Damiano right now, so I could really use good news. Oh, and please tell me that drink is mine.”
She reaches over Sara and slides the dirty martini down the bar. She takes one long sip before plucking the stick of olives out of the glass and biting one off.
With a sigh, she finally turns her attention to us, smiles, and holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Hannah.”
Now she ’ s a total Samantha. Immediately, I love her.
“This is Ava,” Sara says, her voice infused with excitement. “And she’s just accepted a job with the Langfields.”
“Please tell me you’re not Beckett’s new nanny.” The woman hits me with a glare I don’t understand.
Sara rolls her eyes. “She’s working in charitable relations. Besides, we all know Beckett is too much of a control freak to have a nanny.”
Hannah bites off the other olive. “That man is the bane of my existence. If you don’t know it yet, he’s as controlling as they come.” She says this directly to me. “Owning the baseball team isn’t enough. He has to micromanage all of us too.”
“He’s a little better now that he’s fallen in love with Liv.
” Sara turns toward me. “Liv is our boss.” She waves between herself and Hannah.
“She’s the best. She and Beckett got married in Vegas a few months ago.
” She leans in closer, her eyes darting around, as if to confirm she won’t be overheard.
“Between you and me, I’m pretty sure it was a drunken mistake, but god, is that man gone for her. ”
Hannah’s lips turn up, the expression a little sardonic. “Thank god for that. He’s finally letting that poor woman stay home with her kids rather than travel with the Revs to every away game. Drunken mistake or not, that Vegas wedding means I’m officially the new Liv.”
“And I’m the other new Liv.” Sara shimmies her shoulders. “So where are you living?”
“Um,” I hedge. I just met these women. Should I be giving up that kind of information? If they’re my coworkers, it’s okay, right? “At 2018 Langfield Way.”
Sara bounces so exuberantly she almost slides off her stool. “Ah, she’s our neighbor too. It’s nice, right?”
“If you don’t mind all the Neanderthals in the gym in the morning,” Hannah drawls.
That comment instantly sends my mind whirling to my interaction several hours ago. To Tyler.
The best thing about the apartment, other than it being rent-free, is the gym. And not because I’m huge on exercise. No, the best part about it was the studio in the back. The room with mirrors and a beautiful waxed floor with the long barre along the edge.
A spot to dance.
For years, ballet was my only solace.
After two lonely days where I constantly questioned my decision to move to Boston, discovering the quiet room felt like a sign that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
I immediately texted my sister a picture of the space, then I found the right playlist and lost myself for over an hour.
Until I looked up and saw the man with piercing blue eyes.
Eyes I instantly wanted to study for hours so I could describe their shade exactly.
He wore black fitted sweats and a tight black T-shirt that showcased the most defined body I’d ever seen. And tattoos. So many tattoos.
Despite being alone with a stranger, a sense of calm settled over me. It was clear he’d been watching me, yet it didn’t scare me.
Maybe it was because I’d been doing the one thing I loved. Maybe it was because I had promised myself that this year would be different. That I would be different. I’d take risks. Take chances.
Whatever the motivation, I didn’t sink into myself. Instead, I channeled my inner Samantha and held strong, not giving an inch even while I knew he would take a mile.
“ See something you like?”
The man ’ s lips curved up into a lascivious smirk that made my skin heat beneath my white leotard.
I didn ’ t allow myself to cower as he surveyed me.
He’d already checked out my ass, that much I knew.
With the way the leotard cut high on my thighs, he probably got an eyeful.
And if he looked down, he’d probably see my nipples pebbling against the thin fabric.
“ Very much so.”
“They’re not Neanderthals, they’re hockey players.” Sara’s voice interrupts my memory.
Blinking rapidly, I lean forward. “Hockey players?”
Hannah sighs. “Yeah. They only occupy four floors, but they act like they own the building.”
“Four floors is more than enough for me,” Sara chirps.
My heart stutters. Oh god. Tyler couldn’t be…he didn’t seem…oh no. He so did seem like a hockey player. The muscles. The cockiness. The swagger.
A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to speak, but I force the words out anyway. “They live in the building with us?” I knew the deal was too good to be true.
Sara shrugs. “Yeah, but they aren’t so bad.”
“Says the woman who has stacks of NDAs at the ready and has to catch all the puck bunnies on their way out of the building.” Hannah waves down the bartender to order another drink, totally unfazed.
Meanwhile my stomach roils with dread.
“That’s why the Langfields put us up there too. To keep tabs. Not that our presence deters them. But also to fill in the apartments they might otherwise lease to people not connected to Langfield Corp. The whole non-fraternization thing keeps the guys from sleeping with their neighbors.”
Sara tips her glass at Hannah. “I think that went out the window when Beckett married Liv.”
Hannah snorts. “You think we play by the same rules as Beckett Langfield?”
Sara lowers her chin a fraction, focusing on her drink while she shifts in her seat. Hmm. Curious. Maybe, like me, she’s found herself interested in someone in the building.
God. Interested in someone in the building . We flirted. He pinned me against the mirror. I may have fantasized about his lips touching mine, even while I defiantly told him I wasn’t that type of girl.
Then he asked me to meet him for dinner.
Here.
He asked me to meet him for dinner, and since I didn’t want to give him my number or tell him where I lived—I’ve watched enough Dateline with my sister to know better—I agreed to meet him at the bar at seven.
I glance down at my phone, and instantly, my heart sinks. The 7:45 blinks up at me innocently.
I’ve been stood up.
“Want to grab a table?” Sara asks, standing. “We can tell you all about the players and the guys we work with. Gotta make sure you know who to stay away from.”
Hannah slides off her chair. “Tyler Warren. Remember that name. The man is beautiful. All he has to do is look at you, and you’ll be pregnant, but he’s the biggest player on the team.”
My stomach knots painfully in response, but I force a smile to my face. Looks like I dodged a bullet. And I made friends. So although I’ve been stood up for what should have been my first date ever, I suppose I can chalk tonight up to a win.
War
“Did you have a date?” Brayden surveys me over the bowl of pasta I push toward him.
This isn’t the first time he’s asked, but now that the clock reads 7:45, I can guarantee Ava thinks I’m a supreme dickhead.
“You trying to tell me I look pretty?” I bat my lashes. As I dig into my own pasta, I do my best to ignore the ball of lead in my stomach. It’s impossible, though, as I picture Ava sitting by herself, waiting for me.
It only now occurs to me to call the bar. Fuck, why didn’t I think of that to begin with?
“You even smell like you had a date.”
Despite how shitty I feel, I shoot him a grin. “You really are buttering me up. I already told you that you can stay here tonight. No need to work so hard.”
With a roll of his eyes, Brayden shakes his head.
He never smiles, so I do it enough for the both of us. Kids should smile. They should also have a warm place to sleep and the love of a person who cares enough to make sure they’re fed.
These aren’t negotiable terms, and it enrages me that this kid doesn’t have any of it.