"So what's your plan?" Cade asks, throwing back his beer. "Show up, flex those tiny biceps, then what? Hope she swoons?"
"I don'tflex."
"Nah. Zoey's different," Samuel says quietly, and something in his tone makes me look up. "She's not going to be impressed by the usual Colt Lane Pretty Boy routine."
"What usual routine? I don't have a routine."
Three sets of eyes stare at me.
"Okay, I have aslightroutine. But—"
"The smile." Cade ticks off on his fingers. "The wink. The 'accidental' brush of physical contact."
"I get it."
But underneath the banter, I feel something I haven't felt since the man sitting across from me knocked me flat on my ass. These guys, these idiots who give me endless shit… they show up.
I've been alone in that silent apartment for three weeks. With silent walls, an empty fridge, and thoughts that grew too loud. And now I'm back here, surrounded by the chaos of wings and beer and Silas swearing at Theo for a bullseye.
And it feels like...
Like the hollow feeling from this morning, the medical where Willa told me two more weeks won't hurt, it shrinks.
Maybe two more weeks off the ice won't destroy me.
Maybe Icanbe someone off the ice.
Maybe, for once, those voices in my head, the ones that sound like my parents reminding me that every second away from hockey is wasted time…
Maybe they'rewrong.
I look up to signal Lars for another round, and that's when I see a flash of dark hair standing opposite him at the bar.
Zoey.
She's at the bar, her hair twisted up in that messy bun that drives me insane, talking to Lars as he hands over a takeout bag. Her laugh carries across the room, and without thinking, I go to stand, to walk over, to say something charming or stupid or both.
But she grabs the bag, tugs her coat tighter around herself, and those gorgeous long lashes flutter around the bar, taking it all in with a look that's both exhausted and quietly resigned. Resigned to being a mom. And boss. And baker. And accountant and cheerleader all at once.
This woman never has a single moment that belongs just to her.
She heads for the door without looking back, and I can only stand and stare as the cold night swallows her whole.
I sink back into the booth, beer forgotten. Delaney and Paige said she was different. That my charm wouldn't win a woman like Zoey over easily.
And they're right.
I'm not going to charm my way into Zoey Morrison's good graces. I'm going toearnit. However long it takes.
I signal Lars for another beer and settle back into the booth, already counting down the hours.
Oh yeah.
Tomorrow is going to beamazing.
Chapter 4
Zoey