Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Chapter 16
Locke
The place is called Ember & Rye, and it sits on the ground floor of a converted warehouse in the Pearl District. It feels intimate with a dark interior, low ceilings, and exposed brick running the length of one wall. A DJ in the back corner keeps the volume at a level where you have to lean in to talk to those you’re dancing with but closer to the bar area, you don’t quite have to shout to be heard. The dance floor isn’t huge, but it’s packed tonight with Wildfire hockey players getting their grooves on with their girls or with girls who want to be their girls.
It’s loud and dark and warm from the press of people. I’ve been here forty minutes and I’m already done.
But I’m not done enough to leave.
I told Livia I would show up to things, so I’m here with the team celebrating our win over the Nashville Badgers tonight. I’m a man who honors his arrangements, even if I don’t like it. Tonight it’s costing me the discomfort of standing at a high top with Crosby and Arch, trying to “bond” with them as Livia wants.
“You good?” Arch asks, not looking at me. He’s watching the dance floor.
“Fine.”
He nods like that’s the answer he expected.
Crosby has his drink in hand, watching the dance floor, except he’s watching one specific person on it and the whole rest of the room has ceased to exist for him. I recognize this because I have the same problem. My eyes keep seeking out Livia, who’s talking to some of the coaches in the corner.
Juno and Birdie are living it up on the dance floor and Crosby has an amused, fond smile on his face. Birdie dances like she’s entirely at home in her body and Juno laughs, head thrown back.
I look away from them and think about the offer I left sitting on Livia’s desk yesterday.
Haven’t figured that out yet.
Which was true when I said it and is less true now. I know what I want. I’ve known since somewhere around the third time I kissed her and she kissed me back and then told me it was wrong. The problem is that what I want doesn’t have an obvious name that I’m willing to say out loud yet, so I’ve left it open, deliberately deciding to let her sit with the uncertainty of it. It’s my way of keeping control.
What has not been deliberate is how much I’ve been thinking about her since.
I pick up my beer and take a sip. I intend to make it last because this is my one and done for the night. I’m not a big drinker, never have been, but a social beer is on point.
I glance over again at Livia, still standing with a couple of coaches. She’s dressed for a night of celebration. Gone is the Wildfire athletic gear and in its place are tight jeans, an off-the-shoulder blouse, and heels that add three inches she doesn’t need. Gone is her normal ponytail and her hair is a wild mane of shiny brown waves. Her makeup makes her eyes almost incandescent.
She laughs at something one of the coaches says and then hands off her drink before making a beeline to Juno and Birdie on the dance floor.
I’m not prepared to watch Livia Cross dance. Her body moves fluidly and while I don’t think she’s purposely trying to be sexy, she’s sexy as fuck all the same. The combination of the music and the dim lighting and the way she’s not thinking about anyone watching her does crazy things to my ability to think clearly.
Birdie whispers in her ear and she laughs—full, unguarded, head tilting back the way it did at her parents’ table. I look down at my beer and make myself count to five before I look back up.
The friends move together, the easy physical language of women who are comfortable with one another. Standing here watching it is… a lot.
“I’m going to get some air,” I say to no one in particular.
Arch nods. Crosby says nothing.
I move toward the back of the bar where a corridor runs past the bathrooms to a rear door that probably leads to a service alley. The crowd thins back here, the music dropping a few decibels, but the lighting is even lower. I stop near the end of the corridor and lean against the wall and breathe for a minute.
“Where are you going, tough guy?” I hear from behind me and turn to see Livia. Her face is flushed from dancing and she has a goofy smile on her face. “Not running out on the team, are you?”
“Getting some air.”
“There’s no air back here.”
“Less noise.”
She considers that and moves toward me, a censuring look on her face. Her eyes are bright and she’s clearly buzzed. The professional composure is gone, replaced by a woman out having fun.