Getting Lucky - Jennifer Lazaris Page 0,19
to be alone with her.
Ryder opened the door.
Zoe stood on his porch, wearing a little green dress and short denim jacket. Her red hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she had on the silver glasses she’d been wearing the night they met.
“Hi,” she said.
She looked so damn sexy. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder, carry her up to his bedroom, peel that tiny slip of a dress off and kiss her everywhere.
“It’s good to see you again, Zoe.”
“I’m sorry to barge in on you. I think I left my necklace here the other night.”
Zoe leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Briar, who peeked out of the door and then ran back to Brandon.
A lock of Zoe’s hair brushed against his arm. He caught a whiff of cherries and vanilla and took a deep breath. She smelled good enough to eat.
“I didn’t have your phone number to call,” she explained.
“Oh, right.” Ryder couldn’t help feeling a stab of disappointment at the reason for her visit. He’d hoped it was because she’d changed her mind.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about their night together. Unfortunately, he also couldn’t forget her rejection. It still stung.
“Come on in.” He held the door open. “I’ve got a few guys over for game night.”
“I won’t stay long.” She reached down to fiddle with the hem of her dress. He remembered the nervous habit from the first night they met.
“It’s fine. Guys,” he said to his teammates as they all stared at her, “this is Zoe. I gave her a lift home the other night.”
Shaw smirked at Ryder.
“That’s right. I remember you from the bar. And the big screen,” said Fally.
Zoe flushed. “Oh right. The big screen. A moment I’d rather forget.”
He gestured toward his teammates. “That’s Roman Falanov, left wing, and West Keller, our goaltender. Shaw Castle, first line center. Brandon Lear, the shirtless wonder and our second line center, and his daughter, Briar. And—”
“Eli Donnelley, defense.” Eli interrupted, getting out of his seat to shake Zoe’s hand. “What’s this about the big screen?”
“She got crushed by that big dude at the Chicago game. Got caught swearing her face off on the scoreboard replay,” Fally told him.
“That was you?” Eli asked. “It’s not a myth about redheads being fiery then.” He took her elbow and led her toward the couch.
Ryder crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. Zoe had been here all of two minutes, and Eli was already closing in for the kill.
“In defense of my fellow redheads, I was injured. Still have the bruise.” She removed her jacket and lifted her sleeve, displaying the injury.
Eli winced at the multi-colored bruise on her shoulder. “Jesus. That’s brutal.”
“Bwuise,” Briar said. She toddled over to Zoe. “Boo-boo.”
Zoe kneeled and smoothed Briar’s curly blonde hair. “That’s right. It’s a big boo-boo.” She glanced at Brandon. “What is smeared all over her?”
“Melted chocolate,” Brandon said, looking embarrassed. “She won’t hold still long enough for me to clean her off. My shirt was covered in it, too.”
Zoe made a face. “Yuck. You don’t want to be all dirty, do you, Briar?”
“Yuck,” said Briar.
“I’d be happy to help get her cleaned up,” Zoe told Brandon.
Brandon let out a sigh. “Oh man, that would be great. I don’t have any clothes for her, though.”
“Ryder, can you bring me one of your t-shirts? I can pin it back to make it fit for now. At least she’ll be clean. Your friend here could use a clean shirt too.” She gestured toward Brandon and smiled.
“Sure.” Ryder was impressed with the easy-going way she took control of the situation. She hadn’t made Brandon feel incompetent—only grateful. “Back in a minute.”
Zoe grinned at Briar. “Want to give dolly a bath?” She held out her hand toward the little girl.
“Dolly baff.” Briar grasped Zoe’s hand.
“I can help you,” Brandon told Zoe.
“It’s okay. Why don’t you take a break while I deal with this?”
“I won’t argue with that.”
Brandon caught the shirt Ryder threw at him. “Man, why couldn’t she have gotten here ten minutes ago?” He pulled on the shirt and gave Ryder a skeptical look. “Wait a minute, O’Bryan. When do any of your women come to the house?”
“Never,” Shaw chimed in.
Ryder shook his head. “I’m not seeing her.”
Fally snorted.
“Not another word, Fally.” Ryder said sharply.
“She’s super cute, O’Bryan,” said Eli.
Shaw took a swallow of beer. “Says the president of the Players Club.”
“Here we go again,” Fally said, rolling his eyes. “What are you then, Shawsy? The vice-president?”
“Damn right,” Shaw replied.
“I’m