Bennett (On the Line Book 2)(3)

“A wedding ring,” Liam said. “I can’t . . .” He swallowed back his emotion.

Another of the women slid down from her tall chair. “Your wedding ring? You lost it?”

Liam shook his head sadly. “It wasn’t mine. It was . . . my late wife’s.”

The collective gasp from the women made me want to roll my eyes and tell Liam to cut the shit. The f*cker had never been close to married.

“We were only married for three months before she passed five years ago,” he said softly. “I wear it around my neck just to remind me that maybe someday . . . I can find a love like that again. I’m a hockey player and I have to take it off for games, but I keep it in this pocket.”

“We’ll help you find it,” the dark-haired woman now standing next to him said. “Don’t worry.”

Liam met her eyes and gave her a small smile. “That’s so nice of you . . .”

“Noelle,” she finished. “I’m Noelle.”

She was pretty, and I had no doubt I’d be seeing her in the kitchen of our apartment in the morning.

Liam reached into his pocket and looked at his phone. He sighed with relief.

“I got a text from my coach,” he said. “They found it in the locker room.”

“Great,” I said with only a hint of sarcasm.

Liam was thanking the women and being invited to join them when I wandered off. My role in his stupid-ass charade was done.

He didn’t need to lie to get ass, and he knew it. It just seemed to amuse him to do it anyway.

I didn’t like lying, and I also didn’t like groups of single women vying for attention at the same time. I preferred a one-on-one conversation. I scanned the bar, hoping to see one or two women who caught my interest, but no one did.

“Bennett,” a female voice called.

I looked over and saw Molly, the bartender, setting a tall glass of draft beer on the bar.

“Nice game tonight,” Molly said. “On the house, winger.”

I grinned at her and sat down in front of the drink. “Thanks.”

“Where are the other two stooges?”

I knew she meant Killian and Liam. We usually went out together after games.

“Liam’s over there, and I don’t know where Killian’s at,” I said. “He was kinda in a mood.”

“After a win?”

“He’s a moody bastard.”

I took a drink of the cold beer and nodded with appreciation.

“How’s Dean?” I asked Molly.

“He’s good,” she said of her husband, smiling. “This is his last semester of grad school, and then I’m probably quitting this job.”

“Gonna start popping out some kids?”

She laughed. “Not yet. We’ve only been married for a year.”

A customer gestured at her for another drink and Molly left. I finished my beer and ordered another, watching the news on the TV behind the bar. NHL highlights came on, and I stared at the screen, riveted.

I’d been dreaming of the big time since I was a kid. I was on the first line of my team, but Killian was a notch ahead of me. He’d get the call before me. And he deserved it.

Would my time ever come? Or would I be trolling around Fenway, Indiana after games looking for a hookup until my body wore out or I retired from the minors?

Those questions always made me pensive. Normally, I was happy-go-lucky, but wondering if I’d ever make it was tough. I was about to get up and go home to sleep off my mood when a woman flopped down on the barstool next to me.

She was stunning, with long, dark blond curls and blue eyes. I just stared for a second, too mesmerized to consider how rude it was.

“Charlotte,” Molly said, smiling as she walked over. “How are you?”

“Not good,” Charlotte said. “Bring me all the alcohol, Moll.”

“Got it. I’ll break out the strong stuff.”

Charlotte was trying to take off her coat, but her arm was stuck in the sleeve.

“Need some help?” I offered.

“No,” she snapped, still trying to get her arm out. “Well, maybe.”

I held back a smile as I took hold of the coat sleeve to help her.

“Rough night?” I asked.

She blew out a breath and nodded. “Pretty shitty.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are men so horrible?”

Molly slid a Long Island Iced Tea toward Charlotte and she took a big drink, cringing as she set the glass back down. “Wow, that’s strong.”

“Yeah, careful with those,” I said. “You’ll get wasted fast.”

“Sounds amazing right now.”

I arched a brow at her. “You drink much?”

“I got so drunk in college once that I threw up.” Her chin was raised defiantly. Damn, I liked this girl.

“Yeah, well, a couple of those and you’ll be that drunk again.”

She took another sip of the drink and sat in silence.

“Not all men are horrible,” I said after a minute.

“What?”

“You asked why men are so horrible, and I’m just saying, not all of us are.”

She tilted her head and considered. “Not until the opportunity presents itself.”