Chapter 17 #2
The old adage that money couldn’t buy happiness was bullshit. Andy’s money—and the security it provided us both—was a miracle. And I was never, ever going to take it for granted.
“Definitely not,” I told them honestly. A point that was reiterated when a uniformed man appeared at my window.
“He hired a valet?” Rosa asked incredulously.
“Of course he did,” Peyton said, opening the visor mirror to check her makeup. “Andrew is a show-off, always has been.”
I met Rosa’s eye in the mirror and we both smirked. From the way Peyton was fluffing out her hair and adjusting her blouse—no doubt hoping to display just the right amount of cleavage—she appeared to be planning to do some showing off of her own.
I climbed out of the car and handed my keys off to the valet. “The party is taking place on the east lawn,” he said. “If you’ll just follow that path there…”
There was no point in telling him that I had been here hundreds of times, even had my own suite of rooms on the third floor, because the truth was, this place was so massive that I routinely got lost when I came to visit.
Once I’d woken up to find huge, neon orange arrow stickers on the floor outside my bedroom door and all the way down to the kitchen. Hilarious guy, my brother.
“East lawn is just fancy talk for the backyard,” I told the girls, leading them over to a lightly wooded path that wound around the left side of the mansion’s brick facade.
“To be fair,” Rosa pointed out, “this place has a lot of grounds. When you say backyard, do you mean where the pool is?”
“Or do you mean that hilly area?” Peyton asked. “Where we played volleyball the one time?”
“Or that meadow place with the fire pit and the little pond?” Rosa cut in.
I snorted. The girls had a point. “I mean the patio right at the back of the house, off the kitchen. That’s where the grill is set up.”
“Is that a helicopter pad?” Rosa asked as we turned a corner and a small clearing to the left came into view.
“What, don’t you have one?” I teased.
“Your brother’s life is insane,” she muttered.
I wasn’t going to argue with that.
After a few more moments, we rounded another corner and the back of the house came into view. A fairly large crowd of people were gathered on the flagstone patio and the sweeping expanse of green lawn behind it.
“Is it just me, or do all of those guys look…really tall,” Rosa murmured.
Peyton’s eyes were bright with excitement as she nodded. “Um, yeah. Those are some huge men.”
“Hockey players generally are,” I murmured, barely listening to them. Because amongst the crowd of bulky athletes—and more normal sized men and women who I assumed made up the rest of the Sting organization—my eyes had already settled right on a certain team captain.
Liam hadn’t seen me yet, giving me the opportunity to drink him in from afar for a moment.
And God, there was a lot to drink in. He was taller than just about every guy there, his shoulders broad, contours of that incredible chest hinted at under his tight, navy polo shirt.
His blond hair shone even more than usual under the bright Texas sun.
The only fault I could find were the dark aviator sunglasses that hid his blue eyes from my view—but even those added a bit of a bad boy touch to his golden looks.
As I watched, he laughed at whatever the person next to him was saying, his head tilting back just a little, exposing the thick column of his neck. The neck that I had run my tongue along barely a week ago.
I was suddenly aware that my friends had gone quiet. Tearing my attention away from Liam, I turned to see them both staring at me, eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” Peyton said. “You have it bad, girl.”
I swallowed uncomfortably. “What are you talking about?”
She pointed at me, scowling now. “Don’t you dare even try it. We know you, Grace. And we know that that look—” she circled the finger around my face, “—is not how you usually look at your brother’s employees.”
“You didn’t even look at Matt like that,” Rosa added, much more gently. “And you guys dated for months.”
For a second, I considered arguing, but really, what was the point? If they had already read so much into my expression, there was no way I was going to get through an entire afternoon in the same vicinity as Liam without them seeing how affected I was.
Peyton had a shrewd expression on her face as she studied me. “Did you take my advice and make out with him at the gardens that day?”
“Ooh, yes, I’ve been wondering about that!” Rosa jumped up and down a little, like this was all some super fun game.
“You told her?” I glared at Peyton.
She just shrugged. “Obviously.”
I had to laugh. “Can we at least go get something to drink before you start the inquisition? It’s blazing out here.”
“Such a northerner,” Rosa teased. “It’s barely hot.” But she led the way across the lawn towards the patio, where several large aluminum tubs had been filled with ice and bottles of pop and beer.
“What, no open bar?” Peyton asked. “There aren’t even any waiters milling around. What kind of a billionaire’s soiree is this?”
“I bet Andy told Deb he wanted to keep it casual for the team,” I guessed, referring to my brother’s long-term personal assistant, who had more than likely carried out all the plans for this get-together.
My brother’s entire life—and multi-billion-dollar corporation—would fall apart without her.
He couldn’t even manage to schedule his dentist appointments without Deb.
“Yeah, Andy would want to show them what a guy’s guy he is,” Peyton said, smirking.
Rosa fingered the sign on the tub, a mini chalkboard alerting party-goers that the contents were beer. It appeared to have been hand-lettered, maybe even by a professional calligrapher from the looks of it. “I don’t think Deb is very good at keeping things casual.”
“Yeah, because she spends half her time planning black-tie events for his investors,” I said. “She probably has no idea what to do with a bunch of hockey players.”
“We’re generally pretty easy to please,” a voice said behind us, and we all turned to see a gorgeous man smiling at us.
At first glance, I wouldn’t have guessed him to be a hockey player—he was a lot shorter than most of these guys, and didn’t have the same bulky build.
But one look at his shy grin, dark skin, and striking whiskey-colored eyes and I knew exactly who he was—Gabriel Dalton, the best winger to have stayed with the team through the move from Atlanta.
“Wow,” I murmured, feeling suddenly star-struck.
Which was silly. Liam was definitely the biggest name on the team, and I had been plenty comfortable with him when I was stripping in my living room in broad daylight.
But that was Liam, the guy I’d known since he was a gawky kid.
I had only ever seen Gabriel Dalton play on TV.
And he was damn impressive on TV. What he didn’t have in bulk, Dalton made up for in speed. He had to be one of the fastest players in the NHL. Give this guy the puck and some room and he could make magic on the ice.
“Feed us burgers and decent beer and we’re usually happy,” he was saying, kindly ignoring the way I was gaping at him in wide-eyed wonder.
“I’m a really big fan,” I blurted out, unable to help myself. His grin grew even more shy.
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“I’m Peyton Baxter,” my friend said, nudging me aside with zero subtlety so she could shove her hand out. “I know absolutely nothing about hockey,” she continued, batting her eyelashes. “But maybe you could teach me a few things sometime.”
I couldn’t hold back the snort. She was such an obvious flirt. Gabriel shot me a somewhat panicked expression and I grabbed her arm, pulling her back a little. She had been starting to look like she was going to throw herself into his arms right then and there.
“Sorry about her,” I said, but Peyton was still trying to shoulder herself in front of me
“No fair,” she argued. “You already have a hot hockey player. Leave some for the rest of us.”
“Ignore her,” Rosa told him. “We all do.”
The guy looked like he was regretting coming anywhere near us, and I couldn’t blame him. “Girls, this is Gabriel Dalton, the best winger on the team.”
He glanced down, bashful and adorable. “I don’t know about that. We have a lot of new talent this year.”
“Well, if looks have anything to do with hockey success, you’re going to be the highest scorer,” Peyton said, voice thick with innuendo.
“Jesus, Peyton,” I muttered, pushing her to the side. “You were trying to get a beer?” I asked, gesturing at the bucket. “Go right ahead.”
“Uh, thanks,” he said, reaching for a bottle. “It was…nice meeting you ladies.” He gave us all a polite nod and then turned and practically sprinted across the patio.
“Nice going,” Rosa said. “You scared the poor guy to death.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Peyton said, straightening her shoulders and glancing around the patio with glee. “There are so many cute guys here. I’m sure at least one of them won’t be so skittish.”
We grabbed our beers and stepped away to an empty corner of the patio where we had a good view of just about everyone at the party.
I hoped that Peyton would be distracted enough by all the prospects to drop the previous line of questioning, but no such luck.
She positioned us—on purpose, I was sure—in the perfect place to see Liam and the group he was talking to.
“Okay, girl,” she said, nodding in his direction. “Spill.”
I took in a deep breath. “We’ve been…talking.”
“Talking about how much you want to bang each other?” Peyton asked, rolling her eyes.
I opened my mouth to tell her she was ridiculous but just then Liam glanced in our direction.
His gaze immediately locked on mine—at least, I’m pretty sure it did.
He was wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t exactly see what he was staring at.
But he looked crazy intense even at a distance, and I was fairly sure he wasn’t staring at Peyton or Rosa.