She nods. “Okay, so I really am curious. Do your lines only work only on women, or do they work on guys too?”
I gesture for the bartender for two more sodas. “Want to find out?”
“Sure. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“Okay. What’s your type?”
“You know, the typical, tall dark and handsome.” She holds her hand out. “I’m Jules, by the way. You should probably know that much if you’re going to be my wingman.”
“Rider,” I say and take her soft hand in to mine. Damn, her hands are so tiny. Much like the rest of her. After a quick shake, I scan the bar. “What about that guy there?”
“Too much hair gel,” she says. “If he moved in for a kiss, it might put my eye out.”
I grin. “Okay, what about that one?”
She crinkles her nose. “He hasn’t looked up from his phone all night.”
“Yeah, he’d probably want you to send boob picture or something.” I eye her teasingly. “Wait, are you into that? Asking for a friend.”
She laughs and whacks me. “No.”
“What about him?” I spot a nice-looking guy—hey, I’m man enough to admit when a guy is good looking—cuts across the floor, his gaze locked on the bartender, and from the interest in his eyes, I’m not certain it’s a drink he wants from the man. Nothing wrong with that, but if she’s interested, it’s still not going to stop me from being a good wingman.
“Yeah, he’s kind of cute.”
I stand, and cut him off. “Hey, bud,” I begin. “I’ve got to get out of here.” I jerk my thumb toward Jules. “I don’t want to leave my friend Jules alone.” The dude looks around my shoulder to take in Jules as she twists on the stool. “We’re just friends because she’s not my type.”
Recognition flashes in the guy’s eyes when they stray back to me. “Wait, aren’t you—?” he begins, and I cut him off by holding my hands in front of myself, like I’m about to cup two perfect breasts. I get it, he’s a fan, and while I’m always up for a picture or an autograph, I don’t want to switch gears right now. I realize I’m loved because of hockey, but I guess I just want to be me right now. Not that anyone loves that guy.
“Her tits you know. They’re way too big. I’m a mouthful kind of guy.”
Jules squeals in horror behind me, and I bite back a grin as the dude stares at me like I’m a serial killer trying to lure him to my basement with the help of my girlfriend. He gestures with a nod to the group of guys behind him. “Uh, yeah, I have to go.”
Jules and I burst out laughing as he zig-zags through the crowd and meets up with his friends. They huddle and cast suspicious glances our way. Maybe it’s time for us to vacate the place. I reserve my fighting for the rink.
Jules gives a slow shake of her head. “You’ve got no game, Rider.”
“Hey, I’ve got game,” I say, feigning offense. “That guy was just more interested in the bartender. Let me try again,” I say, although oddly enough, I’ve lost the desire to hook her up with some random guy.
She gives me a dubious look, stands, and shoves me. “Move aside, rookie. Let me show you how it’s done.” She scans the room. “What’s your type? And yeah, I get it. You don’t like big breasts.”
“I never said that,” I counter as I try to judge the size of hers, but they’re hidden so well behind her scrubs I can’t tell. “I like all breasts.”
She puckers her lips. “I bet you do.”
“Yeah. I do,” I admit and she shakes her head. “What can I say? I’m honest to a fault.” When she rolls her eyes, I say, “I like women, Jules. Tall, short, thin, plump. You name it.”
“Hair color?”
I glance at her ponytail. “As long as I can tug it, it doesn’t matter what color it is.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, her lips part, and wait…was that a fast intake of breath I just heard? I study her closely, examine the fresh flush on her face. Funny, others might find her plain, but the more time I spend with her, the cuter I find those freckles, and the sexier I find everything about her—including her scrubs. I can’t even blame it on alcohol since I’m dry tonight. Yeah, okay, maybe Kane was right. I need to get laid more often.
“Did I embarrass you?” I ask.
“No,” she says, with a quick jerk of her head.
I part