A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,17

get that a lot’ to the blonde. Because I’m still insanely turned on from the way you attacked my face, and I didn’t need anyone else seeing what you did to me.”

His eyes take a stroll again. “Yes. You seem to be rather affected.”

“Understatement of the century.” I let go of him and head into the bar, where I gesture to the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m still not going back to your hotel.”

“Tease,” I say as we edge our way onto the street.

“What? Didn’t you like just kissing me, Fitz?” he asks, all mock-coy, since he knows I loved it.

But I’m a big believer in saying what you mean and meaning what you say. “I loved every single, solitary moment of it,” I tell him, and Dean swallows roughly, then scrubs a hand across the back of his neck like he’s processing that.

“The feeling is mutual,” he says softly.

Pride suffuses me. “I’m going to convince you to check out the thread count of my hotel sheets tonight.”

He laughs, runs his hand over his short hair, then mutters, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Oh, I have plenty of surprises left for you. And when you come over I’ll show you.”

We come to a stop on the street.

Dean chuckles, but when he looks at me again, that damn mask is back. He glances at his watch. “Listen. As much as I would love to accept, I do need to get to work tonight. It’s getting on.”

I study him and wonder if it’s true or if it’s an out. Wonder if he’s playing hard to get or if he is hard to get.

Because as much as I like the chase, I do have my limits.

I want Dean.

But I also want him to want this thing between us as much as I do.

I have one more move, one way to tell. Make it crystal clear that this would have a beginning and an end. I have a feeling that’s what he wants—an escape clause with zero loopholes.

“This was fun. And I know better than anyone how important work is. If you want to perform at the highest level, you have to eliminate distractions.”

At that, he tilts his head, curious. “What do you mean exactly?”

I shrug like it’s nothing, even though this is kind of a big deal—the pact I have with my teammates. “We came so damn close to making the playoffs last season and missed by this much.” I hold up my thumb and forefinger. “All because we came out of training camp weak. We lost a bunch of games early on, and even though we had a killer second half of the season, it wasn’t quite enough. So, we made a pact, some of the other guys and me. No distractions. No hooking up during training camp and into the start of the season. It’ll let us focus on the game.”

“Focus is important. A man needs to be able to do his job.”

“Exactly. My job is everything to me because it means I can take care of my family. Make my mom’s life easy. Give her all the things she never had when we were growing up.”

“You do all that for her?”

“Hell yeah. I have since I started in the NHL after college. Six years later, she’s living the life she deserves in the house of her dreams, and is married again to a good guy who respects her and adores her. As he should. So, yeah, making sure I can perform at the highest level on the ice is the most important thing in the world to me.”

“That’s great that you can do that. She must be proud of you.”

There’s no joking or teasing now, just earnestness, and I like it, so I continue laying it on the line for him. “For me, I’m over here with Emma being a supportive big brother. But I wouldn’t mind one last red-hot, smoking night or two before I shut it all down before camp.” I look at the sky, stroking my chin. “If only I could find the right guy. Maybe someone who doesn’t want strings either.”

My eyes sweep over Dean.

He draws a deep breath. “No strings?”

I slash a hand through empty air. “Nada.”

“And you said you’re only here for one week?”

“Not even. Only five more days and then I leave.” I flap my arms like I’m flying away.

A flicker of a smile crosses Dean’s handsome face as he asks, “Back to America?”

“Me and all of my charm. Gone, baby, gone.”

“You’re persistent.

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