Chapter 4
FOUR
RONAN
Istrummed the ending of our last song before our twenty-minute break and scanned the room for my hockey player.
I’d almost missed my chord when he walked in, but I was a professional and years of playing in raucous bars had given me the resilience to play through anything.
“He’s here.” I set my guitar in a stand and leaned into Drew.
“Who’s here?” He powered off the stacked amp and flicked his brown hair out of his eyes.
“The hockey player I met at the bar.” Drawing a breath, I rotated, scanned the surroundings, and my gaze fixed on Evan, positioned with other muscular athletes and a man resembling band material.
“Well, why don’t you say hello to him?” Drew hooked a brow at me. “I’m getting some chow. I’ve been smelling it for an hour and I’m damn hungry again.”
“You do that.” We’d eaten quickly before our set, but apparently not enough for Drew.
I tapped my lips with my finger. What was the best approach?
Would it look odd if I singled him out? I rarely mingled with the guests at these events.
Our usual routine involved finding quiet areas to rest and eat, letting me regain vocal strength.
Evan glanced my way and his gaze lingered.
Would he come to me? Maybe I could invite him for a quick drink with me? I had to at least say hello to him. With my lips quirking on one side, I strutted to his table and tapped his shoulder. “We meet again, Evan Crosby.”
The artsy-looking man’s eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped.
“Oh, hi, uh, Ronan.” Evan wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood. “It’s great to see you again.” He stretched a hand to me.
With a wink, I shook his hand.
A large man with dark hair and eyes said, “Evan, you know Ronan Vale?”
“I…I met him last week at a bar in Scottsdale.” He placed his hand on my lower back and said, “Everyone, this is Ronan Vale.” He snickered. “Shit, you knew that already.”
The warmth from his hand tingled across my skin. The way he’d introduced me, it was almost boyfriend-like. He was such a gentleman, not the usual crass men I’d met backstage.
“Ronan, this is Ace, our goalie, and next to him is Zoma, the figure skating coach who put on this charity.” He nodded to them.
“I, yes, I’ve met Zoma already.” But not the rest. I smiled and greeted each of them.
“Thanks again for playing at my charity on such short notice. Everyone is really enjoying it.” Zoma beamed at me with his bright blue eyes, his brown hair gelled back.
“Of course. It’s nice to play low-key acoustic gigs now and again.” And finding Evan here had been a pleasant surprise. I clasped my hands in front of me.
“Over here is Lucas Hopkins and his fiancé, Ezra. I told you about Lucas.” He glanced at me, and his cheeks flushed pink.
“Oh yes, the one who has my photo.” I let out a quick laugh. Could I get Evan away from his friends?
“Sorry, did you want me to delete the photo?” Lucas picked up his phone from the table and tapped the screen.
“No, don’t worry about it. I’m sure lots of people have photos of me.
Hell, the photos from gigs alone must be in the millions.
” It was a hazard of the job, and I’d stopped caring a long time ago.
“It was nice to meet you all.” I gave them my best smile.
“Evan, I have about fifteen minutes before our next set. Would you like to share a drink with me?”
His eyes grew to saucers. “Me? You want a drink with me?”
“Yes.” Fuck, I didn’t have a reason other than a desire for his company. I’d spent the last five days drooling over his calendar photo. I wouldn’t let him get away from me again without…something.
“Sure.” He turned to his friends. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t worry about us. You go off with your rockstar friend there.” Ace cackled and drank from his water glass. “But don’t drink too much. Playoffs, remember?”
While tugging Evan’s elbow, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my jeans and voice texted Drew. In a low voice, I said, “I’m taking Evan for a drink in the lobby bar. Come find me when you’re ready.” We might go a tad over our scheduled twenty-minute break.
“Where did you want to go?” He strode behind me as I hauled him along.
“The lobby bar.” It had been dark and quiet when I’d seen it last. I peeked at him, his cheeks flushed and eyes dark. Fucking hell, he looked positively fuckable right now.
He exited the room, trailing me into a broad corridor featuring seating nooks.
As we approached the bar, I made a beeline for a set of open chairs at the end.
The place had dark wood paneling and low lighting, giving it an old-world vibe.
As I hitched into a slat-backed barstool, Evan took the one next to me.
Wait, Ace had mentioned something about the playoffs.
I eyed the bartender and flagged her over. “So, will you play in the next game?”
“I…Yeah, Coach told me today that Benson is out for the season. I’ll be playing with Nolan Laine.” He set his elbows on the bar.
“What are you drinking?” I ordered a bourbon, neat, when the bartender stepped toward us. It was my go-to anymore. Why bother with mixed drinks when fine bourbons existed?
“I wasn’t drinking. We rarely drink during the playoffs. We have to be in top shape.” He scratched his brow and then ordered a light beer. “That shouldn’t be too bad.”
“Apparently, I’m a bad influence.” My gaze caught his thick lips and the hint of stubble under his nose and along his jawline. “Are you not shaving out of superstition?” Hockey players did that, didn’t they?
Dipping his head, he chuckled and said, “Yeah, I guess I am. I’ll do anything to make sure we win.”
The bartender set down our drinks, and I slipped my wallet from my jeans pocket. “I’ve got this. I invited you.” Would he let me pay?
“No, I won’t allow that.” He pushed my hand down and fished his wallet from his suit pocket.
I eyed him. I would need more than a measly fifteen minutes with him.
I didn’t know why, but I enjoyed his company, craved it even.
Had I met him in a past life, maybe? Had we been lovers?
“What if I cover this round and then you pay for one after the event?” I sipped my drink, keeping my gaze fixed on him.
“After? Uh…” He scraped his teeth across his lower lip, his gaze falling to my mouth and then flicking away. “Yeah, okay.”
He was giving me vibes like he was interested again. Was he in the closet? Lots of players were. “I mean, two light beers are about the same as one regular beer, right?” I could be such a devious bastard sometimes. Shifting my chair closer to his, I paid for our drinks.
“Sure.” He drank some beer from a frosty glass. “I have an extra day to rest between games this time around. Our next game isn’t until—”
“Friday.” Yes, I’d looked at the schedule. I swiveled my chair to face him, resting my elbow on the bar and my cheek in my hand. Goddamn, he was gorgeous, and the way his muscles filled his suit? Absolutely delicious. I hadn’t wanted a guy like this for a long time.
Running his fingers along the condensation on his glass, he said, “Did you watch the last game?”
“Of course.” I’d hoped they’d play him, but… “And I surely won’t miss the next one. I can’t wait to see you play.” After drinking my bourbon, I said, “What do you do on the days off?”
“We have optional light skates to keep our puck-handling skills honed, or work on recovery routines with trainers. It’s mostly about staying hydrated, well fed and resting.” With a sly grin, he picked up his beer. “Which is why we rarely drink.”
“I see.” I nodded. “It’s been some time since your last game, hasn’t it? So, you must have rested already.” Where was I going with this? Could I steer his conversation away from hockey?
“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of drills with the team and hitting it hard at the gym.” He twisted his lips and angled toward me. “What have you been doing?”
“Me?” A smile tugged at my lips. “I’ve been getting some new material recorded.
We have a few months before we hit the studio.
” I sipped more bourbon and tugged my phone from my jeans to check the clock.
Time was nearing for my return to the stage, but I’d persuaded him to stick around for another drink. A text from Drew popped up.
Drew
I thought you said he was straight?
Shit. I closed the screen and snapped my gaze to Evan, who was focused on my phone. He saw that. I knew he had. “So…”
Evan gave me a coy grin and squirmed on his barstool.
Would he say something? I studied him.
His cheeks reddened all the way to his ears, and he took a few gulps of his beer. “Do you have to go back now?”
“I have a few more minutes.” He wouldn’t acknowledge it. But it clearly affected him. Was I seeing interest or fooling myself? I inhaled deeply. “Thank you for spending this time with me.”
“Of course. I, uh, like talking to you.” He glanced at his beer as a grin played across his lips. “I usually hang out with jocks. You’re different.”
“I’m definitely not a jock. I’ve never played sports in my life.” Scoffing a laugh, I said, “Not even Little League.” No, my mother couldn’t be bothered.
“Seriously? What about soccer? Did your parents ever try to make you play that? I think everyone I know did at least a year of that.” He chuckled.
“Nope, not even that.” I downed the rest of my bourbon.
We were about to tread into dangerous territory, and he probably didn’t want to hear about my awful upbringing.
“I should get back. But meet me here after the event. The hotel is managing the gear, so all I have to do is pack my guitar.” I stood.
“Sure.” He gulped the rest of his beer and slid off his stool. “I’ll walk back in with you.”
“Okay.” I strolled with him past the wide hallway and into the room.
Drew stood on the stage, and when his gaze snagged us, he rolled his eyes.
Wait until I told him I was meeting Evan after the gig. “See you later.” I gave Evan’s hand a brief squeeze and then left for the stage after he nodded at me.