“Yo, Ras!” Lloyd’s voice snaps me back to reality. He’s holding up two glasses. “You gonna toast with us, or are you busy making heart eyes at that woman over there?”
Grabbing my drink, my focus doesn’t waver from her. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec.”
I step away from the bar and take deliberate steps toward the lady in red.
“There you are.” I keep my tone casual but flash her a grin. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Bold of you to assume I wanted to be found.”
I chuckle, taking a slow sip of my drink. The tequila burns nicely as it goes down. “Even bolder to think I wouldn’t try anyway.”
“Persistent, are you?”
“That’s one word for it.”
Her light laugh sends a shiver through my body. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to be the reason she does it again. “And what exactly do you plan to do now that you’ve found me?”
“Depends. You gonna tell me your name? Or shall I pick something inspired by the color red?”
She arches a perfectly shaped brow. “What if I enjoy being mysterious?”
“Poppy it is, then.”
“And what should I call you then?”
“Whatever you want.”
She raises her glass in a toast. “Alright then,Mister. Let’s see if you’re as charming as you think you are.”
Our glasses clink, and I suggest, “Let’s find a quieter place for you to make that judgment.”
“You think you can keep my attention that long?”
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
She briefly studies me, finishes her drink and sets the glass on the bar. “Oh, I’m sure we will.”
The heavy bass of the music pulses through the club as I lead Poppy toward the VIP area closest to us. Her hand feels impossibly perfect in mine. The way her delicate fingers curl around my calloused ones makes me want to hold onto her for longer than tonight.
“Here we are.” I motion toward the black seats surrounding the low stone table with bottles of champagne and a bucket of ice on top. “You want to drink something else?”
Her lips curve into an easy smile that makes my stomach flip. “The night is still young, so that’ll do it for now.” She glances around, then adds with a shrug, “My friends left, but I wasn’t ready to call it yet. Figured one more drink wouldn’t hurt. And I was right.”
Those words feel like a promise.
Grabbing an open bottle, I fill the glasses and hand one to her before sitting close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her.
“Now that we can talk without the music drowning our voices,” I say, my tone playful, “tell me more about yourself, Poppy.”
She swirls her champagne and takes a long sip. “What if we don’t exchange any personal details tonight?”
“What do you mean?” I rest an arm casually along the backrest.
“What if,” she starts, her voice smooth, “we simply have fun tonight. No attachments, no names, no life histories.”
I’m torn—a big part of me is tempted to say yes. I’m so tired of women who only want me because I’m a famous hockey player who earns millions. For the first time in a long time, I can be whoever without consequences. But there’s something about her that wants me to share every little detail about my life.
“No names. No personal details. Just us?” I clarify.
