Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,4
with his shaggy, dirty-blondish brown hair that had a slight wave to it. It flipped over his ears and curled over his collar. His beard was scruffy, in need of a trim. But it was his smile that pulled me in. Thick, light pink lips that were almost too feminine on his buff frame. Lips that smiled easily with a top lip that often disappeared beneath his mustache when he did.
So. Damn. Sexy.
Seeing him, I considered ignoring my dad’s warnings about them, jumping back over the bar top and planting myself in the man’s lap when I caught sight of the shimmering black ring he wore on his left hand.
His ring finger, to be exact.
Sebastian Hendrix was one of the hottest men I’d met in all my travels, and he was married.
Since I wasn’t that kind of girl, not ever, I tamped down my crush and my blooming lust for him and did my job. And I’d been doing my job for well over a year for the Ice Kings, pouring them drinks, telling them stories about my travels, some exaggerated for comedic effect.
In the meantime, I chopped four inches off my hair, got rid of the hot pink tips and went to a deep, dark purple and then red, before going back to my current vibrant purple. The stud in my nose changed much more frequently from a tiny jewel to a silver ball to a gold hoop depending on my mood.
Through it all, Sebastian laughed less. His smiles decreased in size to where now, I rarely saw a smile on his face.
Which means I’m not the least bit surprised when the door opens, and Sebastian walks in, shoulders hunched, eyes so sad it almost hurts to look at him.
A brisk breeze from the cold January air follows him. It chills me through my cardigan and George’s Bar tank top, but it’s nothing compared to the pain radiating from his posture and expression.
He walks straight to the bar, not giving any of the few people in the place a second glance and pulls up a seat at the corner near where I am.
He’s wearing a faded, old white ball cap with the Alabama logo on the front pulled down low. I lose his eyes as soon as he sits, but his hair would be enough to give him away from a distance. The curls flip at his neck and his ears, his beard is short but thick and I know it will only continue to grow longer through the season. The first time I saw Sebastian without a beard, my jaw dropped to the bar top. I’m not sure which way he looks better, displaying his square, carved chin or hiding it. Either way, the man simply does something to me.
I head toward him, dropping my black towel to the counter.
“Hey, hotshot. Happy New Year.”
Other than his strange and morose demeanor, I’m more surprised his teammates aren’t with him. Or that he’s here at all. It’s New Year’s Day and they haven’t been in since the week before Christmas.
“Shot of something strong, Gigi, and keep ‘em coming.”
He doesn’t look at me. He barely acknowledges me, although I’m used to it. From what I’ve gathered, Sebastian Hendrix isn’t the kind of man to look too long at any woman who isn’t his wife. Admirable. All women want to be married to a guy who’s so devoted. With his money, his looks, and hell, even with just his personality, men like him are rarely as faithful as he is.
I grab a bottle of Maker’s Mark bourbon. It’s not the most expensive bourbon we have, but I know he likes it.
I fill two shots and slide them both his way.
He takes the first, tosses it back and slams it to the counter with a heavy thunk.
“Hey. You okay?”
His head lifts minutely and slowly, like the small move takes massive effort. “No. Not really.”
He takes another shot and slides both shot glasses my way. “Like I said, Gigi, keep them coming. Or better yet, I’ll take the bottle.”
“Sebastian—” I’m not sure I’ve ever called him by his name. Not since I nicknamed him. Oddly, he’s the only guy on the team who I have nicknamed.
“Don’t. Not tonight, k? Just want to drink my bourbon and not be alone. Can you give me that?”
Someone at the far end calls my name and I glance their way, seeing Steve Shaw holding an empty bottle. Older than my own dad, I know him well enough to