Maybe I was too hasty when I said I thought the night would continue to go smoothly. First I had to deal with that lowlife Morrison, then Kristen ran smack into me. Literally. As I turned to leave the bar and she walked right into my chest. Given that I was standing there all along and I wasn't exactly easy to miss, it was pretty suspect.

"Kristen. Hey..." I took a step back, making some distance between us. Bailey was still at our table with her back turned to me, engrossed in a conversation with Shiv and Zoe. Where the hell was Penner?

She was making eyes at me that even I didn't miss—and I was trying hard to miss them. "How are you?"

"Good." It was difficult, but I told myself I would make an effort to be civil. "You?"

"Great." She took a sip of her drink, wrapping her cherry-red lips around the straw in a way that I was pretty sure was intended to be suggestive and made me infinitely more uneasy than I already was.

"So, you and Penner, huh? Good for you guys." Penner was a decent enough guy, which probably meant she'd eat him alive. I thought about warning him, but I knew he probably wouldn't listen, and getting involved like that had the potential to stir up drama I didn't need. Easier to steer clear of that tire fire in the making altogether.

Kristen glanced over to where he was standing with a group of guys from our team. Her face was impassive, seemingly unimpressed. "Yeah, I guess he's all right."

Damn, that was pretty cold. Considering he brought her as his date tonight, I hoped she at least liked him a little bit.

"How are things with your girlfriend? Hailey?" Her arched brows knit together. "Kailey?"

"Bailey," I said, for the millionth time. "They're great."

Something glanced across her face. "Oh, that's nice."

There was an awkward pause. It was uncomfortable even for me, and I had a lofty threshold for feeling uncomfortable. It happened about as often as I was wrong, which was basically never.

Behind Kristen, I could see Luke standing in front of his table with Paul and the other Bulldogs. Luke's eyes landed on us and he watched for a beat, expression cold. Great. That's what I need, Morrison thinking I'm chatting up other chicks in front of Bailey.

Already in motion, I pivoted around Kristen. "I should get back with these drinks. See you later." Unfortunately.

Mental note to kill Ty for putting them at our table.

*

By the time I finally returned to our table, Dallas and Ty were sitting down too. Ty had his arm slung around Zoe's shoulders and could barely keep his tongue in his mouth. With all of her tattoos and piercings, she wasn't my type, but she was exactly his. Still, I'd never witnessed him behave like this, ever.

I set down our drinks and pulled out my chair, sinking down beside Bailey. Briefly, I wondered if she was going to ask me about my Morrison or Kristen run-ins.

"Thanks." Bailey grabbed her vodka seven, taking a sip. "So, I heard about the time you took a guy out without touching him."

"You mean Paul?" Hopefully, that idiot would give a repeat of performance of that when we played them in a couple days.

"No," Shiv said. "When you played the Blizzards last season and that guy trying to fight you slipped and bailed."

I laughed. "Oh, yeah. That was awesome." The guy speared me and skated away without being called for it. When I made a hit on him in response—which is a perfectly reasonable thing to do—he got salty and started a fight. But before we could actually throw down, he lost his balance, fell on the ice, and gave himself a concussion. I love when people do your dirty work for you. It's always nice to avoid the fighting penalty, too.

Bailey gave me a wry smile, shaking her head. "I always said you were devious, even before I met you."

"I think you mean genius."

Bailey huffed a soft laugh. From across the table, Dallas snorted and rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Actually, I just need to run to the bathroom." Bailey stood up, pushing her chair away. "Be right back."

With Morrison here, I was half-tempted to escort her there, but that would probably be overkill. I would just watch her from afar like a totally normal, not at all overprotective boyfriend would. As she weaved her way through the room, I scanned the crowd but couldn't locate Morrison. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

While Bailey was still in the bathroom, I turned away to talk to Ward for a brief moment. "What time do you want to take off later?"

"Up to Shiv." Dallas shrugged.

Ty nodded behind me. "Uh, pretty sure Greenfield is hitting on your girlfriend."

I craned my neck, scanning the banquet hall in the dim glow of the crystal chandeliers. Off to the side, beside an artificial tree covered with twinkle lights, I spotted endless legs, long blonde hair, and that dress I wanted to tear off later. Bailey was being chatted up by Mason Greenfield, power forward for the NHL's Boston Storm.

He was sporting dark, slicked back hair, a ridiculously flashy expensive suit and some kind of ginormous gold watch that I could see from across the room. A walking new money cliché designed to pull chicks which, frankly, probably worked most of the time. It was easy enough being a professional athlete; the window dressing was just gravy.

And yes, he was definitely hitting on Bailey. He was fully aware that she was probably here as someone else's date—he just didn't care. Greenfield graduated from Boyd last spring, and he made me look like a fucking saint.

"Looks that way."

Guess I wasn't the only one who liked the way she looked in that little black dress.

"She thinks he's being nice, doesn't she?" Shiv murmured, watching them.

I took a sip of my beer. "Probably."

A while ago, Bailey told me she didn't get hit on very often. It struck me as odd. I mean, even factoring in my obvious bias, Bailey was objectively attractive. She had long legs, nice hair, a killer smile, captivating eyes, the whole package. Didn't add up, given how hot she was.

Then I spent more time with her and realized that, more often than not, she didn't realize when guys were trying to pick her up. She thought they were being friendly. Or nice.

My beautiful, sweet, oblivious girlfriend.

"You gonna rescue her?" Dallas asked.

"I'll give it a sec to see how this plays out."

I didn't want to be a helicopter boyfriend who got crazy jealous at every turn, even though inwardly, I kind of was. Whether or not Bailey realized it, but she did attract a lot of male attention. I didn't always love it, but at the end of the day, I trusted her. I knew she would never cheat, and she could generally handle herself. The only time I intervened was with her creeper ex or when she looked uncomfortable.

Greenfield leaned in a little too close for my liking, saying something to her. Bailey shook her head and I thought I made out the word "boyfriend" on her lips. He said something back—knowing Greenfield, probably something classy about how his dick was bigger. She glanced away and scanned the crowd, eyes locking onto mine. We'd hit uncomfortable.

"That's my cue." I pushed off from the table, strolling across the room to join them.

Bailey watched me approach with relief written all over her pretty face. I probably should have stepped in sooner. Hard to gauge sometimes when I was trying not to go full caveman. If I let myself, I'd never leave her side. Or let any other guys look at her, basically. Hence my holding back.

I nodded at him. "Nice to see you." Jesus, man. I could smell his cologne from where I stood. It was overpowering.

"Carter," he said. "Long time no see." He extended his hand, offering me a firm handshake—way firmer than necessary. Were we doing this, now? Maybe we could pull out a ruler next.

"I see you've already met my girlfriend." I slid an arm around the curve of Bailey's waist, giving her a little squeeze.

Understanding dawned across his face. "I have. You're a lucky guy."

"The luckiest."

His gaze darted back and forth between us like someone trying to find their way out of a dead-end street. Which, for him, it absolutely was.

"Well," he said. "I should go mingle. But it was nice meeting you, Bailey. And nice seeing you again, Carter."

I could tell he didn't mean that last part one bit.

"Same to you." And neither did I.

With a nod, Greenfield turned and walked around us, making his way to the bar to find his next potential target. I had to admit, I was a little curious as to whether he would succeed at pulling someone else's date tonight. Hell, maybe he could rescue Morrison's date.

"Thanks." Bailey glanced up at me with a little smile. Her eyelashes looked impossibly long tonight, framing her round hazel eyes in a way that I couldn't tear my own eyes away from. Sometimes, like right now, I got a little lost in her.

She shifted her weight, wincing, and bringing me back to reality. "My feet are getting tired. Not used to heels. Can we go sit back down?"

"Sure." With my hand on her lower back—a little lower than was probably appropriate—I guided her around the tables until we reached ours in the middle, sitting vacant. Everyone else had left, probably to dance or get drinks. I pulled out Bailey's chair, pushing it in for her before sinking down into mine beside her.

My hand came to rest on her shoulder as I slung my arm along the back of her chair. She leaned in closer, nestling against me, and her vanilla-spice perfume hit me like a drug, doing bad things to my self-control. That dress wasn't helping, either. It hugged every curve in a way that made me jealous of the fabric. I wanted to hike it up and bend her over the table.

"What did Greenfield say to you?"

"Um...He asked me to leave with him."

Yup. Pretty on-brand for Greenfield.

I nodded. "I figured."

"Why?" She tilted her head, giving me a questioning look.

"Because I saw the look on your face, and I know what he's like." I slid my hand off her shoulders, bringing my palm down to rest on her upper leg. Warmth from her skin radiated through the thin fabric, melting away the rest of my self-control.

"Don't worry." Her lips quirked. "It was nothing compared to the things you whisper in my ear in public all the time."

I should fucking hope not. I said some pretty filthy things to her. If anyone else talked to her like that, I would cut out their tongue.

"Better not be."

Beneath the white linen tablecloth, I skimmed my hand down her leg, dipping under the hemline of her dress. Bailey drew in a soft inhale as I began walking my fingers up the smooth, silky skin of her inner thigh. Too bad it was my fingers and not my mouth. But later...

"Jealous, Carter?" Her voice turned breathy, taking my mind to even dirtier places than it already was.

"Just making sure he was somewhat respectful."

My fingers traveled another inch, close to reaching my desired target. Bailey bit her bottom lip, crossing her legs and clamping down on my hand with her thighs so that I couldn't move any higher. She shot me a sidelong glance, fighting a smile. I definitely had her going, and I'd gotten myself worked up in the process, too. Was there a coat closet somewhere nearby, or...?

"For the record, Mr. Caveman, I've caught multiple girls checking you out tonight. One practically undressed you with her eyes."

Probably Kristen. She basically eye-fucked me. Awkward. Bailey took that in stride, though, which I appreciated. I wouldn't have been thrilled in her shoes. Hell, I wasn't thrilled myself.

"There are other chicks here?"

"Well played." Her mouth tugged. "You must want to get lucky tonight."

"Wasn't I going to get lucky before?"

"Oh, I meant extra lucky."

Fuck me. I would be surprised if I left this event without getting arrested for doing something indecent.

"What does extra lucky mean?" I lowered my voice, ducking to catch her gaze. Anyone who came back to our table before I found out the answer to this was going to be on the receiving end of a galvanized death stare.

Bailey's eyes danced in the warm light. "I don't know, what do you want it to mean?"

"Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?"

What don't I want it to mean? I mean, really. That list is probably shorter.

"Tell me and we'll see." She inclined her head, bringing her ear closer to my mouth. God, she smelled good. Maybe we could call it a night early. Like right now.

"Well, I picked up those Velcro cuffs we talked about the other day."

"Hmm." She shrugged. "Maybe if you're nice."

"I'm always nice, baby."

*

Unfortunately for me, several hours and three drinks later, Bailey was in no condition to be tied up—or do much of anything other than pass out.

When Siobhan handed Bailey that last drink right before we left, I had a hunch it might put her over the edge. I didn't want to police her so I didn't say anything, but maybe I should have, because she got more and more inebriated during the ride home while the drink worked its way into her system. By the time we got out of the cab, she could barely walk a straight line. And she tripped on the sidewalk. Twice.

I steadied her, my arm around her lower back as we climbed up the staircase. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Bailey stumbled as we scaled the last stair.

"Easy." Good thing I was here, or she would have totally bailed. I was having some vague déjà vu from the night at XS, though the circumstances were obviously dramatically different. Better in every way, including the fact that I was with her now and also, no one was throwing up. Not yet, at least.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

I steered her over to my dresser, releasing her once I was confident she'd regained her footing. "You will be once you sleep it off, my little lightweight."

"Sleep it off?" She looked up, making a pouty face that was both adorable and sad. "I didn't think we were going to sleep. You said we could..."

"I love you, but you're a few minutes away from having the spins, and that won't be a good time for either one of us."

Bailey harrumphed a little sound of annoyance, like she knew I was right but didn't want to admit it. I kissed the top of her head, turning toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. While Bailey changed and got ready for bed, I went down to the kitchen to grab us both water. Mostly just her, really, because I wasn't drunk. When I returned upstairs, Bailey was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, looking pitiful.

She rolled onto her side and the blanket shifted, revealing a sliver of my red Falcons t-shirt. "I feel gross."

"You'll feel better in the morning." I set the water down on the nightstand and slid into bed beside her, rubbing her arm.

"Then I'll just be hungover."

"Drink something. It'll help." I reached over, handing her a glass of water. She drained half of it before placing it down on the nightstand on her side. I reached over, pulling her closer, and she slipped beneath my arm, nestling against my chest.

"I feel like I ruined our night."

"Not at all. I mean, obviously you're not getting out of being tied up another time, but that can wait. Did you have fun?"

I did..." she groaned, covering her eyes. "But why am I so drunk? I didn't even drink very much."

"You don't drink very often, though."

"Neither do you."

I guess I didn't anymore. Probably a handful of times since we'd been together. Maybe I still had some leftover tolerance from the past three years.

"I'm also like, twice your size."

Bailey laughed. "Not even."

"Fine. One and a half times your size."

She snuggled closer to me, letting out a long sigh. As she fell quiet, her breaths grew slower and more even. I started to think she'd fallen asleep when she spoke up again.

"My academic advisor said she's going to put in a good word for me with the scholarship committee. She has a lot of sway as the department head. Plus, I got a videoconference interview for that internship..." she trailed off. "I wasn't going to tell you about either of those because I was scared of jinxing them. But maybe if you do leave, at least those things will work out."

My chest tightened and there was a sharp pang in my gut. I felt bad that she was obviously spinning in circles about this, but I didn't know what I could do to help. It wasn't even a surefire thing yet.

"Don't worry about the leaving thing for now, James."

"It's hard not to."

I kissed the top of her head, giving her a squeeze. "I'm here now, right?"

"I know."

Maybe it's not quite as good as handcuffs but snuggling is nice too, right?