MILE HIGH

29

f**k, her skin is soft.

“Hey, Stevie girl,” I toss over my shoulder as I walk by, my lips lifting on one side. “Good to see you.” I turn to face her, slowly walking backward to the restroom, my smirk all charm as I keep my focus on her pretty freckled face.

She runs a hand up her neck, exactly where I touched her as her cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink.

I spot the look of surprise and confusion on her friends’ faces. Fully satisfied, I turn back and walk down the hall towards the bathroom.

As I’m waiting in this ridiculously long line for the bathroom that I don’t even need to use, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Maddison: You’re so f****d.

He’s not wrong.

Maddison: I figured that was my cue to go. Tab is closed. See you tomorrow.

Even though I don’t need to piss, I do so anyway. I can’t exactly turn around right away and head back to my table. My not-so-stealth cover would be blown.

On my way out, I keep my head low, hoping to go unrecognized as I pass by a trio of dudes dressed like dumbass cowboys. And I’m not talking about authentic cowboys. I’m talking about “I’m in the South for the first time in my life, so I bought a pair of cowboy boots” cowboys.

“I call dibs on sparkly dress,” one of them says, nodding towards Stevie’s table.

“I get the other blonde,” another chimes in.

“f**k that,” the third one argues. “You’re not leaving me with the big girl.”

It takes everything in me not to turn around and punch this fucker in the face. I know he did not just talk about her that way. He doesn’t know s**t about her. Well, I don’t really either, but I do know she’s ten times sexier than either of her desperate friends. And she’s got the attitude to back it up. Why wouldn’t he want her?

Obviously, he’s got a tiny d**k. It’s the only explanation. If he can’t handle a woman’s body, he may as well say that instead of cutting her down to make himself feel better.

Oh f**k.

I’m so f****d. It’s decided. I need to sleep with her before my balls turn the deepest shade of blue.

The threesome of frat bros takes off towards Stevie’s table before I have the chance to.

Maddison is long gone by the time I make it back to my seat, and Rio is still batting his eyelashes at the girls at the bar. My beer is empty, and I’m not going to drink another the night before a game, but I can’t get myself to leave while Stevie is here surrounded by five of the shittiest people on the planet.

Trying to be sly but surely failing at it, I keep my selective hearing locked on the table next to mine, peering over every once in a while. Stevie’s two friends are entirely entranced by frat bro Chad and frat bro Brad while leaving her to the biggest asshole of them all.

He’s clearly uninterested and not even trying to be subtle about the fact that he got “stuck” with her as he sits a good two feet away and refuses to make eye contact, even when she’s speaking.

I f*****g hate this for her. I’d hate this for anyone.

I also hate the way I can’t stay put.

Standing from my table, I go right over to hers.

“Holy s**t, you’re Evan Zanders!” the one who refuses to give Stevie the time of day announces. “Can I get an autograph?”

I pause for a moment, letting him get his hopes up. “No.”

Looking down at the curly-haired girl next to me, I push her locks away from her face, and without thinking, I lift her chin to look at me. My tatted hand surrounds her cheek as I rub my thumb against the flushed and freckled skin. Stevie’s piercing eyes are blazing into me with confusion as her mouth gapes open. Not that I blame her. I don’t even know what I’m doing.

“Ready to go?” I ask, my eyes locked and focused on her blue-green ones.

She doesn’t answer. She just sits there in a surprised daze as the five onlookers share the same shocked expression.

“Thanks for keeping her company,” I tell the group as I lace my hand with Stevie’s, ushering her to stand and follow me out. They might not note the sarcasm in my voice, but I sure as hell do.

She drags behind me, still in a confused trance, so I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her body into mine, essentially guiding her outside. I can feel the group’s eyes on our backs, so I lean down and kiss the top of Stevie’s head to really sell the act.

I’ve never kissed a chick’s head before, and I’m not going to lie, it felt kind of weird.

STEVIE

“W

hat...” I stumble, still in a confused stupor. “What are you doing?” I pull my body away from Zanders’ once we make it outside the bar. Part of me liked the weight of his arm on my shoulder, but most of me is beyond confused as to what is going on.

Zanders seems almost as stunned as I am by his little public display as he stands frozen right in front of the busiest bar on the main street in Nashville.

The buzz of live music echoes from every honky-tonk on the street.

“Holy s**t! It’s EZ!” someone yells, pulling out their phone and snapping a picture of the star hockey player.

“Zanders!” More pictures, more flashes.

“f**k,” Zanders mutters under his breath, dipping his head down, trying to hide a bit.