his dark hair is damp now. Again, his beauty takes my breath away.
“Funny thing. I checked my phone while I was in there and guess what?”
“What?”
He doesn’t stop approaching me until my back is to the wall. “It’s almost midnight.” He lifts his head and looks around. “And I don’t see your date anywhere.”
“He’s here somewhere.”
I should leave. I need to leave.
He lifts one arm and places his hand next to my head on the wall. “You’re really not going to give me a midnight kiss? You might end up being my new lucky charm.”
“Don’t go putting that kind of pressure on me.”
I press my hand on his chest to gain some space to think about what I’m doing. He might not believe I’m here with someone, but I am. Regardless of whether that guy cares to spend any time with me.
He chuckles. “Guess what jersey number I am?”
“I have no idea. One?”
He laughs again. “You think I’m cocky, huh?”
“No—”
“Thirteen.” He smirks and the girl inside me who loves guys just like him wants to know why he’d pick an unlucky number.
“Thirteen is unlucky.”
“They call me Shamrock. I’ve been lucky as fuck my entire life. I’ve never had to be superstitious before like my teammates. But now I’m thinking maybe a kiss from you and I’ll score a goal after a long dry spell.”
“Is this a line? Because up until now I thought you were a great guy, but this all sounds like extreme bullshit.”
“I didn’t much care for you to know that I played but Ford ruined that. I figure might as well be honest with you, especially if it earns me a kiss.” He bends down closer and inside the music stops and someone starts the countdown at ten through the microphone.
I press my finger to his lips. “And what if you kiss me tonight and score in your next game? What are you going to do, chase me down to kiss you before every game?”
He chuckles again, gently lowering my wrist to my side. The guy says eight in the microphone and my chest constricts. “Well, I’d hope that after I kiss you, I could grab that phone number and maybe we could see each other once you end whatever you have going with your date.”
“You want to date me or go on a date?”
The guy’s voice says five and cheers erupt through the house. But we’re in our own little bubble tucked away under the overhang of the balcony. “I know athletes get reputations but I’m not really a one-night stand kind of guy. I want the real thing. I think we have a connection.”
The guy gets down to three on the microphone and my stomach turns over with queasiness.
“So, what do you say? Can I kiss you?” He leans in, millimeters from my face and I close my eyes as the guy announces two… one.
I panic and before I can stop myself my hand is already moving. I throw my drink in Aiden’s face.
“What the hell?” He backs away, wiping his hand down his face.
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” I run out of our hiding spot and hit the bottom of the stairs, but Jaron’s there.
“There you are.” I glance back and Aiden’s right behind me.
He comes to a dead stop. “What the hell man? Did you piss a girl off like usual?” Jaron asks, but he doesn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s midnight and I didn’t have anyone to kiss.”
“Probably because you spent the whole night away from me.”
“Who’s your date, Jaron?” Aiden asks quietly.
Jaron puts his arm around my waist. “This is Saige. Saige this is Aiden Drake, one of my clients.”
Aiden nods and holds out his hand. “You two have a great evening.” I shake his hand, but he pulls it back immediately and walks up the stairs.
“So how about that midnight kiss?” Jaron bends down toward me and I place my hand over his mouth, pushing him back.
“I don’t think so. I’m calling an Uber.”
I follow Aiden up the stairs, but by the time I make it through the house and out the front doors, he’s nowhere to be found.
Way to go, Saige. You finally have a great night with a guy and your conscience screws it all up for you.
But there is no way I can risk being his good luck charm regardless of whether he scores during his next game or not.
Chapter Eight
AIDEN
TWO DAYS LATER
“Holy fuck!” Maksim opens up a bottle of champagne and sprays it over the entire