Chapter 1
Luca Vaughn
I rested my head on the steering wheel as sweat from the stifling heat rolled down my back.
I tried to find a sliver of positivity in my current predicament.
As a kid who bounced from one foster home to another, my social worker said it was easier to get through the bad times if I could find a bright side to every daunting situation.
And for a kid who never knew where he was going to sleep, sometimes it was difficult to find.
Relief washed over me as I dropped my head to the steering wheel. I would make it to work for another sixteen-hour day to afford life in Brooklyn. With my window down and my seat belt on, I inched out into traffic in Lower Manhattan. Now that I was moving, if I hurried, I might not be late.
After a quick detour to change clothes and pull my shoulder-length hair back, I pulled into the alley behind the bar. If I could get inside and clock in before the manager noticed me, everything would be okay.
Crawling out of my car, I depressed the locks and followed the delicious smell of grilled meat from nearby street vendors that permeated the air.
My stomach growled as I jogged to the staff entrance of the Midnight Market.
Four fifty-five. A rejuvenating sense of accomplishment filled me as I’d overcome all the obstacles thrown at me to get here on time.
Living life on my terms was all I wanted.
My sense of accomplishment waned when I found the back screen door locked.
Jerking on the handle, realization set in that my asshat manager had made good on his threat to lock the door early.
“Motherfucker,” I muttered, pulling it a couple more times, just in case the lock miraculously gave way. “Fucking asshole.”
With no other choice, I ran up the alleyway and rounded the corner.
The front door opened, then closed as customers entered the bar for Happy Hour.
The world slowed down, and the urgency to beat the clock vanished when the most breathtaking man I’d ever seen came into sight.
I knew exactly who he was. The one and only Axel Hughes, the latest hockey star to join the New York Nighthawks.
His picture had been all over the internet, but he was something else in person.
Perfectly styled dark blond hair, piercing green eyes, and a chiseled jaw made him more suitable for a designer’s runway than a hockey rink.
But the stoic expression and two sleeves of intricately designed tattoos that screamed ‘badass hockey player’ ruined the illusion.
When he approached, our eyes met, making my breath hitch from the ominous scowl he wore. I smiled because he didn’t scare me. I reached for the handle. “Good evening. After you.”
A knowing look crossed his face as he grabbed the door over my head. Hints of something spicy mixed with toffee and bourbon wafted between us. It was high-end, just like him. “After you.”
“Thanks. But you’re the customer. I just work here.”
He smirked as I gestured toward the arm holding the door. “Nice ink, by the way. Did you get that around here?” I was confident I knew the answer, but some superstars didn’t appreciate being called out in public.
“No,” he answered lightly. “London and Munich.” He glanced at my sparse ink but didn’t comment.
“Oh, nice. Well, have a good evening.”
“You, too.”
A quick scan of the room located my boss standing to the left.
Richard had his back to me as he talked to the other Nighthawks players.
Ducking in the opposite direction, I waved to Mitch, the bartender, as I slipped into the kitchen.
After clocking in, I put on my apron and grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins.
Sliding behind the bar, I dropped them on the serving tray.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be busy tonight. ”
He chuckled and looked around. “Me too, now that they’re here. Cutting it close, aren’t you?”
My eyes cut to Richard. “He locked the back door.”
“Yeah. He stayed in the office until right before shift change. Then locked it.”
“Such an asshole,” I breathed out as another server walked up. Sabrina glanced up at me, then gestured toward the tables.
“You’re in section three with your favorite hockey players.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Richard is already sucking up to the new one like he’s a tester for Hoover.”
I snorted as she gave Mitch her drink order.
She was right. All he cared about was making sure they knew he was in charge.
“He’s probably planning his social media post right now to announce it.
Guess I’d better get over there.” Wiping my palms on my apron, I glanced up to find Richard jerking his head toward them.
Ignoring him, I walked up to the table and focused on my favorite customers.
“Good evening, gentlemen. How are you tonight?”
Jonas Decker, the Nighthawks goalie, grinned up at me. He had become a regular since being traded last season. “How ya doing, Luca? I was hoping you were here tonight. We’re adding to the crew.” He gestured toward Axel.
Way to call me out, dude. “Great. I was grabbing some supplies from the bartender. We’ll be busy once the word gets out you’re here.”
“We are trying to grow our fan base.”
“You’re doing a great job. We’re packed out every night you guys come in. So thank you!”
He chuckled. “Happy to help.”
“No wives tonight?”
Anders Karlsson spoke up. “They’re having a girls’ night, so we’re left to our own devices. Wine and painting, I think.”
I chuckled. “That’s cool. Are you all having the usual tonight?”
“That’s the best thing about a neighborhood bar like this,” Decker added. “You already know our order.”
“I try.” I glanced around the table, confirming the choice with Ivan Kozlov and Karlsson. They had become regulars, too. My gaze lingered on the newest Nighthawk, who hadn’t taken his seat. “Any idea what your friend might want to drink?”
As if he knew I was talking about him, our eyes met again. It was clear to everyone, except Richard, that Axel wasn’t interested in a conversation.
“Axel,” Jonas called. “What will ya have? Luca here needs to know what to bring you.”
His eyes widened comically as he walked away from Richard without another word. I tried to hide my smile. Yeah, buddy. I understand how annoying he can be.
Pulling out the chair across from Jonas, I waited for him to take his seat. When his defiant green eyes found mine again, there was nothing I could do but smile. “Hello again.”
His mouth tipped up with a hint of a smirk. He evidently enjoyed pissing people off. “Hello, Luca.” My name rolled off his tongue like it was meant to be there. Leaning forward on one elbow, he spoke without breaking eye contact. “What do you suggest?”
I shrugged. “It depends on what you’re in the mood for. We have a wide selection from IPAs to lagers and of course, top-shelf liquor if that’s your fancy.” I paused as his eyes bore into me, obviously catching on to my recognition of his nationality. “Would you like to look at a menu?”
He slowly shook his head. “Not really. I’d fancy a beer. What do you suggest?”
“You could do the Paulsner like your friends. But something tells me you don’t go with the crowd. So maybe a Heineken or Guinness.” I pointed my pencil at him. “I might even be able to find a BrewDog for you.”
Decker grinned. “Luca here is the best! The man knows his beer.”
His eyes narrowed as he propped his chin in his hand, one long finger crossing his lips. Axel Hughes exuded control and careful contemplation. “I see that. All excellent choices.” He sat back and smirked. “Surprise me.”
I accepted the challenge. “Okay. You asked for it. I’ll be back, gentlemen.”
Turning, I heard Decker say something under his breath, making the others laugh.
Axel Hughes was living up to his reputation on the ice, and the Nighthawks were in good hands.
Shaking my head, I made the short walk back to the bar as they carried on and ribbed one another.
Glancing over my shoulder, I caught sight of a rare Axel Hughes smile before turning back to Mitch. “Do you have a BrewDog back there?”
“I think so. Let me check the other cooler.”
As I entered their order into the computer, my good mood came to an abrupt end when Richard barked my name. “Luca.”
My stomach twisted, but I knew how to handle assholes like him. “Yes, Richard? What can I do for you?”
“Look at me when I speak to you,” he barked again, louder than I would have liked. He was ready to put on a show as the bar fell silent. Biting the inside of my jaw, I glanced at Mitch, then turned to the seething man. “You were late. Again. Don’t think I missed you trying to sneak in.”
“I was here before five, but the back door was locked. It took me a minute to come around to the front.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he glared up at me. “You know the rules. And I saw you come in. Talking to the hockey player is no excuse.” He stepped forward and poked me in the chest to make his point. “You should have been here ten minutes before your shift.”
“Look,” I said, trying to appeal to his humanity, “You know I work with seniors, and sometimes they don’t move so fast. Today I had a veteran with Alzheimer’s that I…”
He raised a hand and cut me off. “I don’t care if you had to place all the old people in New York.
The only thing that concerns me is what you do here.
” Pointing at me, he made his case, just as loud as before.
“You were supposed to be on the floor, serving customers at five. Not coming in the door.”
Biting the side of my jaw, my face burned as I looked away.
“Are you listening?” he barked.
“Yes. I’ll do better. I need to serve my customers. If we’re done here.”
“Oh,” he sneered, “we’re done here, alright. So done that you’re fired.”