“There you are, Hartley.”
This reaction? It’s not my fault. It’s his goddamned charisma. I blink up at his crushing deep blue eyes the color of a moody ocean. He’s almost a foot taller than me, with dark blond hair that’s a little too long. Hockey hair, the guys call it. With his lazy overconfidence, he pulls it off.
Not that I’d ever admit that.
It’s his grin that riles me, though. A perpetually amused, flirtatious slant to his lips. It’s exactly the way a hockey superstar would smile, like he knows he can have anything.
I hate Rory Miller’s stupid fucking arrogant grin. I hate it so much that I think about it all the time.
He steps back, rakes his gaze down my outfit—a dark red midi dress with a sweetheart neckline and a soft, curve-hugging skirt that makes my ass look incredible—and lets out a low whistle.
“You look very pretty tonight,” he says.
He gives me that flirty grin again, and nerves flutter through me. I’m calm, cool, and totally disinterested in Rory Miller, and if I tell myself that enough times, it might actually become true.
Heat flushes up my neck and cheeks, and I clear my throat. “Thank you. Excuse me.” I move to get around him, but he steps into my path, blocking it.
“Admit it. You wore this dress for me.”
“Wow, Miller.” My laugh is light. “It sure is crowded in here with that enormous ego of yours.”
He gives me a scolding, teasing expression. “Now, Hartley, play along and tell me I look good, too.”
My eyes flick over him in his suit. Tailored perfectly to his tall, broad frame, it screams custom-made and expensive, but it’s the rich navy fabric I struggle to look away from. It’s the exact shade of his eyes.
“You don’t need the ego boost.” I should walk away, but instead, I smack my head in mock-disappointment. “Oh my god. I forgot to reserve a seat for your sex doll.”
His grin broadens, and sparks dance in my stomach. He doesn’t actually have a sex doll—I don’t think—but this is one of my favorite bits.
“I gave her the night off,” he says in a low voice, leaning in with a rakish grin and glittering eyes. “She’s earned it.”
A revolted laugh threatens to slip out, but I hold it down. I will not laugh at Rory Miller’s jokes. He’s basically a child, and it’ll just encourage him.
“Rory.” Donna, Jamie’s mom, appears with the photographer I hired. “You’re here.” She gestures at the two of us. “Let’s get a photo.”
Before I can protest that we’re not together, he slips his hand around my waist, pulling me against him. His scent surrounds me—warm, spicy, and woodsy, like sandalwood and cloves. From either the intensely masculine way he smells or the way his body heat warms me, my stomach dips.
“Relax,” he murmurs into my ear, giving my waist a squeeze. “You’re so tense.”
The photographer lines up the focus and I count the seconds until dinner, where I’ve placed Rory on the opposite end of the table from me.
“Let’s go out,” he says quietly as the camera clicks.
I snort, even as delight shoots through me. “You’re joking. Your sex doll will be so jealous.”
His quiet laugh tickles my cheek. “Nah, I’ll bring her.”
I really do laugh this time, and the flash goes off. Stars burst in my vision.
“Lovely,” the photographer says, snapping away. “What a beautiful couple.”
I open and close my mouth like a fish. The camera clicks again and I step away from him, putting distance between us.
His hands slip into his pockets as he regards me, gaze dipping down to my neckline, so fast I barely catch it. “Come on, Hartley.”
“I don’t date hockey players, and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know my first name.”
His gaze sharpens, his smile turning flirty. “You want me to say your name more, Hazel?”
A shiver of something weird rolls down my back. The last thing I need is him pulling out that low, seductive voice again. “No.”
“Then let’s be friends.”
The tilt of his mouth and the way his eyes drag over me make me shake my head. He doesn’t want to be friends. He loves the chase. A person doesn’t get to where he is in his hockey career without being insanely competitive, and me turning him down is like catnip.
With guys like Rory and Connor, it’s only a matter of time before they get bored and move on to the next thrill.