The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,38

wearing his number, the sly smiles of random guys, and the double takes of a few members of his team.

We enter the private room at the back that Claire told me the team takes over after every home game. Noah guides me up to the bar and pulls a credit card from his wallet, tapping it against the bar ledge and smirking down at me. “What are you having, Little Indy?”

I smile, remembering how much I hated when Austin, Noah, and Easton called me Little Indy back when I was sixteen and desperate to be taken seriously. Now, it flickers to life as a private joke between us, losing its sting and taking on a whole new definition of sweet. I tap my fingertips against the bar’s ledge, debating.

“I got you,” Noah says after reading the indecision on my face. He gestures to the bartender and a few minutes later, the guy springs into action.

“What did you order?”

“My favorite.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I swear, it’s really good. And, it won’t make you feel sluggish tomorrow.”

I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s tequila and sprite.” His arm brushes against my shoulder as he leans down, lowering his voice. “But don’t tell anyone. I pretend it’s this fancy, secret drink I like.”

I chuckle, nodding in agreement. The good news is I like tequila. The bad news is I could get drunk off of Noah’s proximity alone.

Noah slides his card across the bar as the bartender places down two drinks. “Hey Pete. Can I start a tab?”

“You got it, Scotch. Good game tonight.” Pete takes the card and walks down the bar to serve other players.

Noah nudges my drink closer to my hand and picks up his glass. “To your trip, Indy. May your research and publication be wildly successful.” His tone is playful, his expression serious. It’s alluring, how invested he is in my work. Back when I applied to colleges, Jace used to grumble and roll his eyes, wondering why I even needed an education when I would be taking care of his house and children. I cringe just thinking of what an idiot I was to ever see anything charming about Jace Edwards.

I clink my glass against Noah’s. “Congratulations on your big fat W. You were stellar tonight.”

He clutches his chest, his glass hovering in the space between us. “Stellar? My God, Indiana, coming from you that’s quite the compliment.” I grin and his expression softens. “Thank you.” He takes a sip of his drink and I follow suit.

The drink is smooth and refreshing, going down easier than it should.

Claire appears at my side and hip checks me. I hold my drink far over the bar as a little of its contents splash over the side and onto my hand.

“Oops, sorry,” Claire says, flashing me a fake grimace.

Noah grabs some bar napkins and presses them to my wrist as Vanny, Mike, Austin, and Torsten join us at the bar.

“You’re already drinking?” Savannah laughs, pointing at me. “So much for one drink.”

I blush and Torsten cracks a grin, brushing a kiss across my cheek. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Such a charmer, Big Daddy,” she teases him since he’s the oldest guy on the team.

Mike laughs as Noah narrows his eyes and Austin pulls his teammate back a few paces. Mike turns to the bartender and gestures to the group. “I’m drinking with the wrong team tonight. Keep ‘em coming,” he jokes, since he was traded from Boston to New York last year. While it was a hard hit, the move turned out to be better for his career. He now sees more playing time and has a bit of distance from so many overwhelming family members as he and Vanny navigate their first few years of marriage.

Savannah snorts and throws her arms around her husband. He kisses the tip of her nose and the fact that they’re so in love, even while juggling their new move, life in a new city, and his hectic schedule is remarkable.

Austin orders a round of shots.

Noah dips his head toward me again. “You don’t have to drink it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And get made fun of by this crowd?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to my judgey cousins.

“I’ll take it for you if you’re worried,” he offers.

I turn to look over my shoulder as Claire argues with Austin over something. Torsten has pulled Panda into our little group. As the bartender lines up shot glasses, the swell of bodies pushes toward the