He’s beaming as his buddies, who are equally as large, maybe a wee bit bigger, watch with amusement. The taller one is grinning like he’s about to get some, while the other is a little more reserved but interested in what is happening. It doesn’t take a genius to realize they are twins. Really, really hot twins. “Well, I’ve never seen such a gorgeous woman.”
“Lies,” I accuse as the bartender hands me another cider and waters to the boys. Or children. They can’t be over twenty. “Or you haven’t lived long enough to see your fair share of beautiful women.”
His lips curve even more. “Oh peach, I don’t need another twenty years to know beauty when I see it.”
Ha. I called it. “Twenty? My God, you’re a baby.”
He actually blushes. If he weren’t a baby, I’d let him flirt with me all day. Gotta set him loose to prowl. “I’m a big, big man,” he teases, and I grin.
“Big, big man?”
He nods. “I’m big…and big.” He nods toward his cock, and with that, my look tells him to run. He grimaces as his friends guffaw behind him. The reserved one finds this hilarious. “Can I take that back?”
“Please.”
He quickly holds out his hand. “My name is D’Artagnan Miklas.”
I blink. Surely, I heard him wrong. “D’Artagnan?”
He grins. “Yeah? I’m named after some chick flick from the eighties. I guess there’s also some old-ass book.”
Oh, my heart. I was maybe ten, but I lusted after Chris O’Donnell like no other. I wanted to have his little horse-riding babies and teach them to fence. “It was the nineties, and the most amazing, romantic, and beautiful movie, The Three Musketeers.”
“I’ve seen that!” the bigger twin says with a toothy grin. “My mom loves those kinds of movies.”
His mom. I’m probably his mom’s age. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” he says proudly. “I’m a hockey player.”
Just like that, I’m knocked back into the imaginary rink in my head where I’m naked and being banged by Kirby in all his sexy hockeyness against one of those big net things. I need to shake these children. Before I can, though, the not-so-amused twin gives his brother a dirty look. “Really? That’s what you lead with? ‘I’m nineteen and a hockey player. Please let me buy you a drink.’”
“I like you,” I say, pointing to him, and he grins, holding out his hand. He has the most amazing blue eyes, but he’s also nineteen, so keep it moving, Jay.
As I shake his hand, he says, “Evan Adler. It’s really nice to meet you. This idiot is my brother Owen. We’re from Nashville, Tennessee, trying to play for the IceCats.”
“Wow, I love Nashville. My niece is about to go to school down there. Bellevue?”
“Yeah! I picked coming here instead of going to college there.” We share a smile, and his eyes are dangerous. God help the girl he sets those blue lasers on. “I think I made the right choice.”
I chuckle at his insinuation. “You’re cute, but I’m way out of your age group.”
“Not at all,” he says, leaning on the bar, and those quiet ones are always the risky ones.
Someone put me out of my misery. “Okay, D’Artagnan. Grab Athos and Porthos and head on off to save the king or win a Cup or whatever.”
The confusion is all over D’Artagnan’s and Evan’s faces, but Owen, my movie friend, grins. “Good one.”
“I thought so,” I say with a wink.
But then I hear his voice. “Okay, boys. Keep it moving. This lady is way too classy for slumming with you three.”
I go still.
My heart stops, and as I look past the Three Musketeers, there he is. “Kirby?”
The guys look between us as he cuddles Celeste in his arms. She’s sleeping against his chest, her beautiful curls covering her face. How she is sleeping in this loud place is beyond me, but hot damn if I don’t wish I were on his chest like she is. He is stunning in a soft red tee that is tight along his chest and shoulders from supporting Celeste’s weight. His dark hair is a mess, like he hasn’t combed it in a week, and that dark shadow on his face tells me he hasn’t shaved either. Within seconds, I’m worried. Is he not handling things well? Is Jean not working out? From what I heard, he loved her and she loved them! Does he need me?
Okay, Jaylin. Pump the brakes.
I swallow hard as his eyes move along my body. He may be a solid six feet away with a child on his chest and three fully grown man-children between us, but it feels like he is right beside me, his body enveloping mine.
“Hey, Jaylin. These guys giving you trouble?”
The way the guys act, it’s as if Kirby is their principal. “Not at all.”
“I just bought her a drink!”
“She talked to us.”
“Guys, relax,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Go get us a table.”
D’Artagnan holds up his water, and I tap my cider to his. “Let me know when you want to broaden that age-group notion.”
I scoff, but Kirby gives him a look that basically says he’s currently pissing on my leg, and he backs off.
It turns me on in a way I can’t even explain.
“Don’t hold your breath. I wasn’t kidding when I said she is way too classy for you guys.”
“Fine, Lit, fine. Jeez,” he mutters as the twins wave to me, and they head off to get a table.
Kirby looks over at me, and I smile. “Boneheads.”
“Are you babysitting three more?”
He grins. “Kinda. I’m the guy to guide them along the road to the IceCats. Two of them will make it. One will go back to the AHL.”
“AHL?”
“The American Hockey League. It’s one step down from the National Hockey League.”
I nod. I knew that, but I really don’t want him to stop talking. “Oh neat. Which ones do you think will make it?”
He hesitates. It’s obvious he likes the guys. “The twins, probably. Their dad is Shea Adler.”
I blink. “Okay?”
“Great hockey player. I really need to educate you.”
Yes. God please. Naked. Yes, naked.
I laugh off my horniness. “Aw, but I like D’Artagnan.”
He gives me a blank look. “Like?”
“Yeah, he’s adorable.”
“Like, you want to date him?”
I snort. “Jealous?”
His eyes narrow. “You aren’t allowed to date any of my teammates.”
I gawk at him, pressing my hand to my chest. “Excuse me? You’re telling me who I can and can’t date?”
He has a teasing grin, one I’ve missed. It’s so beautiful, and I love how bright his eyes get. “I am.”
I scoff. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d tell you about yourself. But please, enlighten me. Why can’t I date your teammates?”
“Because.”
“Because?”
“Because I said.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Tell me why.”
He takes a step closer, licking his bottom lip, and yup, I won’t date anyone if he asks me not to. His eye bore into mine, and his chest rises with a deep breath as heat creeps up his neck. “Because I want—”