He figured screwing a bridesmaid or three might be a better alternative to drinking alone in his house.
Of course, given his dick’s response to the barracuda just now, he was starting to worry last night’s loss had caused impotence.
No.
No fucking way.
He pushed that terrifying thought away.
“It can’t wait,” Bella continued. “I need to ask for a favor.”
“What sort of favor?”
He glanced back toward the barstool he’d just vacated and saw one of his teammates, Butch, claiming his seat and his beer. Butch had had his eye on the blonde since they’d walked in. Obviously, his friend didn’t like Alex talking to her, so he took the opportunity to sneak in.
“Where are you?” Bella asked. “It’s loud there.”
“I’m at Pat’s Pub with some of the guys. Trying to drink it off.” He grimaced when Butch placed his hand on the blonde’s waist and leaned in to kiss her neck. “Fucking cherry picker,” he muttered.
Bella laughed. “Forget to cover the five hole, Alex? Tsk tsk.” His sister knew him well, too well sometimes.
“Not really. Probably not the best company tonight. What’s the favor?”
“Now that you’re coming to Roger and Lindsey’s wedding, I thought I’d help you out…date-wise.”
“Nope. I don’t take dates to weddings, Bella. You know that.”
From her exasperated huff, he knew he was in for a fight. His sister was infamous for digging her heels in until she got what she wanted.
Personally, he blamed his parents for her demanding ways. She was the only girl…and the baby…in a family of five sons.
“Alex, please. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
He laughed.
Loud.
“Sell that shit to someone who’s buying. Importance has never figured into it when you want something. It’s all whims and impulse and two-year-old temper tantrums.”
“Not this time.” And then, because he’d insulted her, she added, “Asshole,” to kick back.
He chuckled. It was always like this between him and Bella. Constant pokes and jabs. But it was in good fun. There was precious little he wouldn’t do for his kid sister and she knew it.
Hence this damn phone call.
He looked up just in time to see Butch—the smug idiot—waving goodbye as he and the barracuda left together. Little did the guy know he’d done him a solid.
Alex waved back and smiled gleefully. Butch’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he was suddenly taking a second look at the blonde, trying to decide why Alex wasn’t pissed off.
Served him right.
“I’d love to help you out, sis, but I have no intention of breaking my hard-and-fast rule. I don’t go to all-you-can-eat buffets when I’m full. I go starving, take a look at the bar, and then gorge myself on the best bites. Weddings are prime hunting ground for single women, all panicking about dying alone in a house full of cats. I consider it a public service to reassure the hottest one there that she has nothing to fear…for one night.”
His proclamation was met with a silence that made him grin. He could picture the pure disgust on his sister’s face and it amused him.
Briefly.
Then his stomach clenched again as he caught a replay of the high-sticking call that cost them the game on one of the side TVs. Padraig hadn’t changed all the damn channels, just the big screen.
How many times was the local sports station going to fucking show the foul and analyze it?
Why not just say the words everyone was thinking?
Alex Stone, Baltimore’s beast on the ice, fucked up and cost his team and the city the Stanley Cup.
“Sometimes I wonder why you’re my favorite brother.”
He turned his back on the TV and tried to focus on his conversation with Bella. “You know exactly why.”
Bella and Alex were the late babies, their four brothers all in their teens before their parents decided they’d stopped too soon. Alex and Bella were only ten months apart in age, while their older siblings felt more like indulgent uncles than brothers. Two of them had been married with kids of their own before he and Bella got out of elementary school.
“Remind me,” she said.
“Because I’m rich and famous, Baltimore’s favorite son on the ice,” until last night, he thought. Then he continued his list. “Wickedly handsome, witty, fun, the eternal bachelor with a heart of go—”
“Enough. I just ate dinner and I’d like to keep it down. Listen. I’m serious about this favor. It’s really important.”
Time to cut to the chase.
Tonight was a wash. His best bet was to settle his tab with Padraig, head home to pack for the wedding, and call it an early night.
But for some reason, home didn’t sound any more appealing than the bar.
It felt too…quiet.
“Who do you want me to take to the wedding, Bella?”
She paused, which told him he wasn’t going to like her answer. “Charlotte.”
He frowned, trying to remember which of her friends was named Charlotte. Try as he may, he couldn’t put a face to the name. “Is this a new friend? One I haven’t met?”
“Well…no. You know her pretty well. I mean she’s only been my best friend since kindergarten.”
“Charley’s been your best friend since kin—” And that was when the light went on.
Charley’s given name was Charlotte. Not that anyone used it.
He hadn’t seen Charley Matthews—the girl next door, literally—in nearly eight years, not since she and Bella graduated high school.
Then life took them in different directions. Charley had gone to an out-of-state school, while he’d played Division 1 at the University of Wisconsin.
He was drafted to the NHL out of college. He’d moved to Baltimore with the team, and he’d only made it back to Wisconsin once or twice a year since then. And though Charley’s parents and his were neighbors, his path hadn’t crossed Charley’s once during any of those trips.
Regardless, not even that amount of time had been long enough to make him agree to this. “No. Fuuuuuuck no.”
Bella scoffed. “What do you mean no? You like Charley. Actually, you love Charley. Half the time we were growing up, I wondered if she was my best friend or yours.”
“Charley is awesome.”
Or at least, she had been when they were kids. He had no idea what the adult Charley was like, but he couldn’t imagine she’d changed that much. “So are the guys on my team, but I’m not taking any of them to this wedding as my date. I’d like to get laid and I ain’t screwing Charley. It would be like fucking a dude.”
Charley Matthews gave new meaning to the word tomboy. She’d played in the same hockey league as him in middle and high school—the only girl on the team—and there was part of him that was pretty sure she’d be in the NHL right now if not for the fact she was born female.
She’d been tall, skinny, and scrappy as hell, always sporting bruises or black eyes from checking the fuck out of him and the other guys on the team. She cussed like a sailor and trash-talked with the best of them.
There hadn’t been a feminine bone in Charley’s body.