Has Human-Sized Ego
Sam turned and looked behind him. It had been so long since he’d seen the corners of Autumn’s pink lips turn upward into a pleasant little smile, he knew she couldn’t be smiling at him.
No one else was in the room. He turned back and tilted his head to one side in an effort to gauge her temperament. “Hi, Autumn.”
Her smile slipped a little. “Sam.”
“It’s been a while.”
“About two years.”
He looked into her dark green eyes for any sign of trouble. “A little longer, I think.” He didn’t see a storm brewing in there and didn’t feel the need to cover his crotch. Thank God. “I saw you earlier and thought I’d say hey, so you’d know I was here.” He’d wanted to talk to her, gauge her reaction, and avoid any potential problems.
“I knew. You’re on the guest list.”
“Oh. Of course.” He bent down and picked up the notebook. “Are you pouring yourself a drink,” he joked as he straightened.
“It’s pear cider, and it’s not for me.”
He wouldn’t have mistaken any of the other guests for teetotalers. At least not the guests he knew. “What’s Conner doing tonight?”
“Hanging out with Vince.”
Vince. The male version of Autumn. Only bigger. Meaner and trained to kil . Sam hated Autumn’s brother, Vince. “How have you been?”
“Good.” She glanced at the big silver watch strapped to her wrist, the round face resting above her pulse, and he wondered if she stil had his name inked there or if she’d had it removed. “I’d love to stay and chat with you al night, but I’m working,” she said through that smile that didn’t fool Sam for a second. She lifted her elbow away from her side, and he slid the leather folder beneath her arm. “Thanks. Have a good time tonight.” She moved around him and walked from the room. Sam turned and watched her go. That went wel . Too wel , but he didn’t trust her not to blindside him or spike his food with arsenic or MiraLAX. Maybe both to make his death real y uncomfortable.
His gaze slid from her red ponytail and down her slim back to the nice curves of her waist. The flaps of two back pockets drew his attention to her rounded behind. Autumn was a pretty woman. No doubt, but she wasn’t gorgeous. She had soft curves in al the right places. Slim hips and nice breasts, and he didn’t believe that made him a perv to think it either. He’d seen her naked, but her body real y wasn’t anything special. Wasn’t his type. He liked tal , thin women with large breasts. Always had been drawn to the overblown. So why, for those few days in Vegas, had he found an average woman so damn fascinating?
Sam walked out of the room and stood at the edge of the crowd drinking champagne and toasting the bride and groom. He could blame that odd fascination with Autumn on the city. Nothing ever seemed real in Vegas. He could blame it on the booze. There’d been plenty of that. He could blame the month of June. He always went a little insane in June, but he wasn’t sure it was any of those things. He grabbed a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray and replaced the empty. The only thing that was real clear, that he was very sure about, was that he’d met a redheaded girl in a bar and married her a few days later, and the next morning he’d left her behind at Caesars like a used bath towel. He understood why Autumn hated him. He got it, and he didn’t blame her. His behavior hadn’t been his finest moment. Sadly, it hadn’t even been his worst.
Through the crowd gathered around Ty and Faith, he caught a glimpse of a red ponytail. The guests parted for a brief second, and he watched her hand the bride and groom flutes of cider. There could only be one reason why Ty and Faith weren’t drinking champagne at their own wedding. And it wasn’t because they’d found religion.
Autumn moved to the edges, and Sam lost sight of her. He imagined that Ty and Faith were happy about having a child. They looked happy. Sam took a drink from the crystal flute. Six years ago, he hadn’t exactly been happy to hear he was going to be a daddy, but once he’d held his son, al that changed.
“Hey, Sam.”
He looked over his shoulder at the team’s newest assistant coach, Mark Bressler. “Hammer.” Up until about a year ago, Mark had been an elite hockey player and captain of the Chinooks. But last winter he’d been in a horrible car wreck that had ended his career and put Ty Savage in Mark’s jersey. “It appears the captain knocked up the owner.” He pointed his glass at the happy couple. “That has to be a hockey first.”
“Jesus, LeClaire. Watch your language.”
“What language?” Had he sworn and not known it?
“There are women present.”
Al he’d said was knocked up. Since when was knocked up “language” and “Jesus” wasn’t? And since when did Bressler care? Sam lowered his gaze to the blond woman by Mark’s side, Bressler’s hand in the middle of her back. Ah. “Hi, Short Boss.”
“Hi, Sam,” Chelsea said, her attention riveted on the bride. “Faith’s pregnant? Are you sure?”
He shrugged. “I can’t think of another reason why she and Ty are drinking crappy cider instead of the good stuff?”
“Oh my God!” Her blue eyes lit up, and she pushed her hair behind her ears. “I know something before my sister does.”
The ring on her left finger about blinded him. “That’s some ring?”
She held up her hand and smiled. “You noticed it?”
“Hard not to.” He was pretty sure the moody man at her side had given it to her. “Honey, don’t break my heart and tel me you’re off-limits now.”