And a destructive one at that.
The woman had leveled the storage room. Broken glassware still tinked onto the floor. Somehow, she’d impaled one of her four-inch heels into the florescent light. And the guys had stolen three bottles of champagne which now showered everything in the room—cloth napkins to chairs, extra tables to pieces of artwork removed to make space for the Forge’s promotional photos.
A bristling, overweight manager puffed his way into the chaos, tutting beneath a thick mustache as he struggled with a perpetually crooked tie. He surveyed the disaster and dove for the smoke detector. Too late. The screeching siren blared through the hotel.
“What the hell is going on here?” His words blubbered as he stepped over the dozens of broken glasses and spare plates. “You’ve ruined it all! Who is she?”
Beau flashed an impatient smile and elbowed Orion. “We thought this hotel was full-service.”
Adrian silenced him with a grunt. He hauled his team into the hallway with a chastising profanity. Then he turned to the manager and offered his sincerest apology.
Unfortunately, it fell on deaf ears—and not just because of the fire suppression system’s terrorizing siren.
“They’ve had too much to drink.” Adrian shouted over the alarm. “I’ll take care of them.”
“And who will take care of my hotel?” The manager panicked, bending down to grab fragments of dinnerware and ruined tablecloths which had been cast into the hall during the scuffle. He groaned as his eyes followed the giant rip in the hall’s wallpaper from vending machine to elevator. “This is outrageous!”
Adrian removed a business card from his wallet and handed it to the man. “Call this number, ask for Leah Carson.”
The man cupped a hand over his ear and shouted. “Who?”
“She handles my…these sorts of issues. You give her a dollar amount for the damages, and I will pay it. No questions asked.”
The manager stared at the card. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I hoped he was. Between the new house—and the repairs to the new house after the party—and now a complete restoration of a damned hotel storage room? Adrian was losing money before he got on the ice to earn it.
Blinking strobe lights flickered in time to the fire alarm. I covered my ears, but I could feel the shrieking in my fillings.
“I’ll write you a check tomorrow, as long as you can promise that this is resolved,” Adrian said.
The man flicked the card between his fingers. “What do you mean?”
“It means we deal with this problem together. Only us. No media.”
Might’ve been a good idea, but Beau snickered from across the hall. He’d ditched the tie—or maybe he didn’t own one. His shirt was untucked under the jacket. I hoped it was for comfort and not the result of the wrong sort of attention from an easy woman.
“Hey, Captain.” Beau jerked his thumb down the hallway toward the irate waitress. “Not the manager you gotta worry about.”
The woman postured in front of her phone, regaling any who would listen to her livestream about the drama-fueled saga of how her chauvinistic boyfriend interrupted her night out with three hockey players.
Beau’s laugh wasn’t charming when it was at Adrian’s expense. “Don’t worry. She might’ve filmed you bribing that dude, but at least your dick isn’t hanging out.”
Oh, Lord.
Adrian pushed the business card into the manager’s chest. “Call that number. Immediately.”
He grabbed my hand as the halls filled with confused banquet-attendees and hotel guests. They reluctantly evacuated from the lavish hall, trading appetizers and champagne for a dingy, asphalt-cracked parking lot with views of the local dumpsters and a coal barge sailing up the river.
I held onto his arm, not nearly as agile with my heels on an uneven pavement as I was on the dance floor. “I didn’t know why you’d want a PR person, but I get it now. Good call.”
Adrian led me farther from the crowds, deeper into the shadows of the lot. Wasn’t exactly private next to the beat-up Toyota Tundra, but at least it shielded us from some stares and most of the wailing fire alarm.
“She’ll probably fire me because of this,” he said.
“Something tells me if she’s handled Jack Carson, she can easily manage this.”
A deep crease formed between his brows. More and more little worry lines had appeared near his eyes. The stress was getting to him, and the season had only officially started twelve hours ago.
“She’s managed one man,” he said. “But this team has a dozen Jack Carsons. It’ll ruin us…if it doesn’t destroy my career first.”
Poor guy.
I tucked myself into his embrace. A delighted thrill charged through me as he leaned in to steal a kiss.
His lips were soft. His kiss complicated.
Why did it feel so damned right to sink into his arms?
“You’ll get through this.” I brushed my hand over his cheek and gently scratched my nails in his beard. “And, if it all works out, no one has to know that Forge caused all of…this.”
Two fire trucks and a police cruiser wheeled into the lot, lights and sirens blazing. Just what the party needed.
“If it isn’t this problem, it’ll be another tomorrow,” he said. “Or the scandal after that, or the disaster that follows.”
“And you’ll work through all of it. First things first—get all the guys on the ice in the same uniform. Once you do that, everyone will realize the team works better together than each man can do on his own. But you can’t rush it, Adrian. It happens in its own time.”
The crowds milled closer to the hotel, but we lingered in the shadows, hidden from the rest of the team, coaches, and media. Seemed as though I needed only to take his hand and we might’ve disappeared altogether.
“I’m perpetually running out of time.” His words edged hard.
“That’s not true.”
“There’s always something that takes more time than I have. Healing injuries. Rallying the team.” He gestured toward me. “Figuring out what time of the month it is.”
“One of those mysteries is substantially more fun than the others.”
“Can’t argue there.”
And a deliciously naughty thought popped into my head.
Maybe it was the sight of this man in a perfectly tailored tuxedo.
Maybe it was the image of him naked in the showers.
Or maybe it was because my best friend was hurting, and he needed my help.
“I have an idea…” I whispered. “Why don’t we blow off the rest of this party?”
Adrian groaned. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I gotta meet with the coaches, the owners, the builders of the arena, the city Council and Mayor. Everyone’s expecting me to be here.”
“What if I expected you too?”
Adrian hesitated, his words lowering to an interested growl. “I didn’t think tonight was the night.”
It wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. “Who knows about these things? Maybe we’ve been a little too regimented with it. If we keep it casual, it’ll happen on its own.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked.