Her hair flowed across her back when she turned around. “Good luck.” She started out, then stopped. “Have fun on Saturday.” Then she was gone.
“Not likely,” he mumbled into the empty room.
The music cut out, and he quickly scooted to the end of the bed, scooping up his pants. He couldn’t let her leave like that. Not after...that. What they’d done.
He stumbled into his jeans, half hopping to the doorway, only to hear his front door bang closed. His shoulders dropped, hands frozen as the quiet rushed in to surround him.
She was gone.
He ground his forehead into the doorframe, focused on the pain spreading across his face instead of the one pounding on his heart.
It was fine. He was good. There were other women who wanted to be with him. At least for a while.
A lot longer than two hours—if not forever.
Chapter Nine
Jazz music floated over the din of the crowded banquet room. Henrik tucked himself into the corner, took a sip of his soda water. How in the hell have I survived these things before?
He managed a chin bob of acknowledgement to Allen Benning, the Glaciers’ GM, held breath easing out when the man kept moving. Henrik had done his mingling and smiling for the press when he’d arrived. He’d been trained from an early age to do the social small talk with almost anyone at events like these, but he was done tonight.
He pulled out his phone to check the time. Another hour before he could sneak away. Great.
Not having a girl on his arm to control the conversation and force his interaction with others was more annoying than he’d anticipated. Yet his intention of finding a Patricia replacement had fizzled out the second he’d stepped into the room and eyed up the possibilities. All the woman here paled in comparison to Jacqui—who likely hadn’t thought of him since she’d walked out of his house. Two days ago.
This whole social event would be so much better if she was here. Out of spite and boredom, he sent a text to Jacqui. I’m not having fun.
He regretted it the second it was off and too late to withdraw. He read it again. Yup. A pouting, petulant child he was. He stuffed the phone in his pocket before he could make it worse. Was drunk texting a plausible excuse?
He drained his glass, the soda water mocking him as it slid down his throat.
Shit. He rubbed his eyes and tried to shove thoughts of Jacqui away. That worked about as well as it had the last hundred times he’d tried. And when had he ever spent days thinking about a woman?
“Hey, Roller.” Hauke punched Henrik’s arm. “How’s it going?”
Henrik glared at his friend. A grunt was his answer.
“That good, huh?”
Like he needed to respond to that one. He stared at the mix of people in the room. The event had been mandatory for all the players, even the prospects who hadn’t been cut from the roster yet. They still had three more preseason games before the final lineup would be set for the season opener.
Suits of varying color and style were on every man. The dress code for the women was more fluid, like usual. The businesswomen—reporters, Glaciers’ staff, sponsors—tended to wear dressy suits, while the wives and dates wore cocktail dresses that were generally more conservative than the single female “guests” who were also invited.
One of those in the last group of women caught his eye, and he quickly looked away. He’d been dodging them all night. An oddity, given his girlfriendless status.
“She’s still looking,” Hauke said.
“So?”
He shifted to face Henrik, the man’s scowl more concerned than angry. “Seriously. Are you good?”
Henrik dropped his head back, sigh heaving out. The variations on that answer would take him places he didn’t want to go. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Hauke was still studying him when he glanced at him. “Shouldn’t you be with V?”
Hauke barked a sharp laugh. “She’s fine without me.”
The stunning PR rep was across the room talking to Vincent Segar, the Glaciers’ owner. Her hair draped down her back in a curtain of ebony silk that appeared almost blue against her black suit jacket. Sleek and haughty, Henrik had no doubt she could probably bring every man in this room to his knees if she wanted to.
She’d certainly done it with Hauke.
“Does she have her whip with her?” Henrik poked at his teammate. It was better to dig at the man than to be scrutinized himself.