it was. Anyone—Scott included—could see that Kip only had eyes for his husband-to-be.
Kyle flipped the hood of his sweatshirt up to protect his hair and glasses from the drizzle outside. He supposed he could use the party tonight as inspiration to finally, and firmly, close the door on this pointless crush on Kip Grady. Kyle had volunteered to work the bar tonight, mostly because it would give him something to do other than listen to his heart shrivel and die while Kip and Scott smooshed their perfect faces together.
This would be it, Kyle decided as he hurried down the stairs to the subway. Tonight he would stop pining for Kip and maybe have fun making straight hockey players uncomfortable by flirting with them. And then he would focus his efforts on finding a nice, available, and, most importantly, appropriate man to live happily ever after with.
Or a cute guy with a tight ass. Whichever.
Chapter Two
Kyle had never been so disappointed by a gay bar full of hot men.
He had spent a lot of time in gay bars. A lot of time in this bar in particular. The Kingfisher had been his main source of income for years, and he’d flirted with a vast array of hot men in this very room during that time. He’d gone home with a decent percentage of them. Tonight the Kingfisher was celebrating the engagement of two gay men, yet was packed with straight dudes. Hockey players, mostly.
Extremely attractive hockey players. And their wives.
Water, water everywhere...
Kyle sighed and poured a lager for the zillionth time that evening. The hockey players were not adventurous in their choice of alcoholic beverages. He set the pint glass on the bar and offered a smile to the tall, scruffy millionaire athlete who took the beer without even a glance at Kyle.
Straight men. God.
There was a time when meeting even one NHL star would have been exciting, but since Scott Hunter had become a regular at the Kingfisher, and since Kyle had become friends with Kip, New York Admirals players had become commonplace in Kyle’s life. Boring, even.
“Having fun?” Kyle’s co-worker, Aram, playfully bumped his hip as he reached for a pint glass.
“Could be having more fun if any of these boys knew how to flirt,” Kyle grumbled.
“I know. What a waste, right? This place is full of tens, and they’re all worthless.”
“Counterfeit tens,” Kyle agreed.
Aram rested both of his massive arms on the bar and leaned forward, grinning at the rowdy and attractive crowd. “Still, though. Fun to look at. Have you seen Matti Jalo up close?”
“Not as close as I’d like to.”
Aram laughed as a man who was not the New York Admirals’ gorgeous Finnish defenseman ambled up to the bar and asked them for a couple of pints of beer. Aram got to work pouring them while pointlessly flirting with the man. Kyle let his eyes roam the room.
Ooh. Eric Bennett.
The Admirals’ star goaltender was leaning against the bar, seemingly taking in the party. Kyle didn’t really know him, but he’d seen him in here before with Scott and Kip and he was kind of exactly Kyle’s type. Or, rather, he was exactly the type of man Kyle wouldn’t allow himself to fall for anymore. But it didn’t hurt to look. Kyle had always loved Eric’s dark, curly hair and well-groomed stubble, both of which were flecked with gray. He was tall and lean and always seemed so mature and elegant compared to the other Admirals players.
Eric was alone now, and he was technically at the bar, so Kyle could technically ask if he wanted to order anything. What if he’d been waiting patiently this whole time to order a drink? With his back to the bar...
“Can I get you anything?” Kyle leaned on the bar, angling his face so that Eric could see him in his periphery.
Eric turned his head immediately. “I’m fine,” he said with a polite smile.
He certainly was. He was wearing a blue-and-white checked shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. His dark eyes fixed on Kyle’s, his gaze confident and unwavering.
Oof. If Kyle had one weakness—and he didn’t; he had many—it was confident, attractive older men. Also, confident, attractive younger men. Also, men.
“Kyle, right?” Eric asked. “You’re friends with Kip.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Eric.” He extended his hand, and Kyle shook it.
“I know who you are.” Kyle’s tone was teasing and flirty, because it was pretty much always teasing and flirty. “You’re the one who hides that handsome face behind