until they didn’t want him to be a gentleman. He didn’t have any problems fulfilling those requests, either.
“Afraid of having an actual conversation with a woman?” Fally asked.
“Oh fuck you, Fally. Just because you’re married now, don’t think I’m going to jump down that rabbit hole. Some of us like being single.” Ryder downed the rest of his pasta, and chased it with a swallow of beer.
Fally pointed his fork at Ryder. “Bullshit, Irish. If things had turned out differently seven years ago, you’d have been the one telling me to stop fucking around and settle down. We both know it.”
Ryder shot him a dirty look, pushed his plate away and grabbed his beer. If he hung around Fally any longer, he’d lose his temper.
He didn’t want to think about the past. Fally was his closest friend and teammate, but sometimes he needed to learn when to shut up and mind his own goddamned business.
***
“May I join you?” a deep, male voice asked.
Zoe glanced up and froze, her beer halfway to her mouth. The guy standing in front of her was breathtaking.
She knew, because he took hers away.
Oh my God.
He towered over her table, standing at least 6’4” in a gray Armani suit. His sandy brown hair was cut short, and the front stuck up, as if he’d just run his hand through it.
His blue-eyed gaze was intense as he waited for her response. Not trusting herself to speak yet, she gestured to the chair.
“I saw what happened to your shoulder at the game. Sorry about that.” He took the seat directly across from her and studied the welt with a solemn expression. She was so mesmerized at the sound of his rumbling baritone, she went mute.
Work brain. Say something. “Oh, right,” she finally managed. “The game highlights. That fan hated the Las Vegas player. When those two guys started fighting in front of me, he just went nuts. It was a mess.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know he hated the Vegas player?”
“For the entire game he yelled, ‘You’re an asshole O’Bryan!’ or ‘Kiss my ass twenty-five!’ I hoped the O’Bryan guy would get kicked out of the game so the drunk would finally shut up.”
“I guess number twenty-five isn’t your favorite player, then?” He leaned back in his chair and put a hand on his pint glass. “At least not tonight, anyway.”
She shook her head. “Tonight was my first game, so I don’t know any of the players. I got the tickets for my birthday from my roommate. She’s the hockey nut, but she likes Chicago. She’s from there, originally. Are you a hockey fan?” Zoe bit her lip to stop herself from babbling.
He smiled at her, and she looked down at the table, suddenly hit with a fresh wave of nerves.
“I guess you could say that.” He sounded amused. “So, what did you think of your first game?”
Forgetting her injury, she shrugged her bad shoulder, then winced. “It was interesting. To be honest, I had no idea what was going on most of the time. Those guys are really fast.”
He reached over and took her arm, assessing the injury. The touch of his fingers on her skin—so sure and steady—made her lightheaded and caused her toes to curl.
Zoe dropped her arms to her sides when he let go. Her body was in overdrive, buzzing and popping with awareness. She drew a shallow breath in an attempt to steady herself.
For years, she thought she’d had a low sex drive, because although she was attracted to men, she’d never felt the intense reactions her friends were always going on about—tummy butterflies, racing hearts and sweaty palms.
Until now. Now, she felt everything all at once.
“That’s brutal. You should be home icing it.” He continued to watch her with that intense expression, and she had to force herself to hold his gaze.
Zoe nodded toward the beer. “I think alcohol is a more effective treatment at the moment.”
He smirked. “Fair enough. I don’t think I caught your name yet, Strawberry.”
She laughed, trying to cover up her nervousness. Strawberry. She was a step away from melting into a puddle at his feet. “That’s one I haven’t heard before. I’m Zoe Miller. And you are?”
“Ryder O’Bryan.”
Zoe’s mouth dropped open. Oh, no. It couldn’t be. “You! You’re the hockey player!”
“Right wing for the Kingsnakes.” He grinned and held up his glass in a mock toast. “It’s nice to meet you, Zoe.”
Her face flamed. “I didn’t recognize you in the suit.”
“Dress code. They like us