“Here, here,” Billie says, raising her champagne glass, which makes me laugh.
“I’m so excited, too. Now let’s party.” I squeal as our table erupts.
The night moves on from that moment, and we are all dancing, drinking, laughing, and having a great time.
“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me,” Zara mutters, looking past my shoulder.
I turn around and still. What the hell are they doing here? Fish, Bouch, Evan, and Nelly are walking in. No Pierre. No Felix. Thank God, but still, so much for the hockey-free bar.
“What the hell?” Marlowe asks.
“What?” Eve asks, and I point at the group of guys walking in like they own the place.
“Oh, hello there …” She grins.
“Put those come-hither eyes away, they are off-limits. They’re Mavericks players,” I tell her.
“Oh. Damn. Yeah. No go zone there.” She nods in agreement, seeing as her family’s company represents some of them.
Thankfully, Vi is too distracted by some rich guy in a suit to notice the players walk in.
“Of all the fricken clubs, they end up here.” Zara groans.
“Ignore them.” I try to tell the girls, but the mood has already changed. Fish spots us immediately. He grins cockily, that stupid, easy grin that has the women falling to their knees and makes a beeline for our booth before any of his friends can stop him.
“Ladies.” He leans against the edge of the booth like he was invited. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“We were literally just talking about how players never come to this bar,” Zara says flatly.
“I’m honored to ruin that for you.” He grins. “Oh, and who is this gorgeous creature? I haven’t met you before,” Fish says, eyeing Eve.
“You must be the famous Fish,” Eve says, raising a brow.
“Famous? What have you heard?” He smirks as those bright blue eyes rake over her.
“Enough to know you should probably buy us a round,” Eve throws back at him.
He laughs, genuinely surprised, and I watch him clock the whole table, the work girls, and Eve, and when he makes a quick calculation that there are no St. Pierre brothers in sight, his shoulders drop half an inch.
“Deal.” He waves his boys over. “Hey, St. Pierre, wanna help me get the drinks?”
“Do I have to?” I moan.
“No, but if I’m shouting, I need help.” He grins.
Guess he’s right. I slide out of the booth and follow him to the bar. The boys quickly take my seat and make themselves comfortable with the girls.
“So,” Fish says, leaning against the bar, flagging the bartender. “Friday night, no brothers.”
“Incredible observation.” I chuckle as we are pressed against each other at the bar, thanks to the crowd.
He tilts his head, those blue eyes doing a lazy sweep that I choose to ignore. “You seem different without them hovering.”
“I’m the same person as I always am. You’ve only been here for five minutes, how could you possibly notice if I’m different or not?” I ask, slightly irritated by that comment.
“The fact that you followed me to the bar and have your tits pressed up against me sort of gives it away.” He grins as his eyes zero in on my tits.Green top for the win.Wait. No. I don’t want Fish checking out my boobs.
“Eyes up here, buddy,” I say, placing my finger under his chin.