Perfect Sense (Perfect Series Book 1) (3 page)

“Alright, Daddy. I promise we’ll be there.” Lyndsey smiles over at me. “Yup, seven o’clock.” I can hear our father’s deep voice on the other end of the line. “Okay. Sounds like fun. Love you too. See you then.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” I frown at her.

“I’m not sure I should tell you.” A devilish grin spreads across my sister’s glossy lips. “If I do, you might not go with me.”

“Go where?”

“Promise me that no matter what I say, you’ll come along.” She smiles like a gloating idiot.

“Promise.”

“Dad’s flying to Bexley and he asked us to meet him for dinner.”

“And…?”

She takes a sip of her coffee, her big brown eyes lighting up behind the rim of her paper cup. “And he wants us to meet him at The Nomad Bar & Grill.”

“And…?”

She slowly lowers her coffee. “And he’s hosting a team dinner for the Bruisers. I’m sure you’re Prince Charming will be there, Cinderella.”

For a moment, after rounding the corner leading into The Nomad Bar & Grill I lean against the concrete pillars leading up to the restaurant, hesitating. Lyndsey spent all afternoon teasing me with pictures of Cash Brooks that she flashed in my face from the Bexley Bruisers website. I have no clue what I am going to do if I see him.

Hopefully, he won’t even remember me. I mean, the man has thousands of women screaming his name when he’s on the ice. What’s one more face in the crowd?

Lyndsey taps her foot impatiently at top of the steps. “Come on, Quinn. I bet he won’t even recognize you without your thick wool mittens.”

“Shut up,” I mumble straightening out my cream-colored peplum dress.

“Who knows, maybe he won’t even be here,” Lyndsey says over her shoulder, walking up the steps. “Last team dinner, he didn’t bother showing up. He’s kind of a dick like that.”

I let out a sigh, hope she’s right, and reluctantly follow her inside the dimly lit restaurant. The hostess at the front door leads us down more steps then through a long hallway to the right. Lyndsey turns around and basks at my discomfort. She’s in a skin-tight neon pink dress that she insisted she wear, ignoring my requests that she not attract any more attention to us.

There is a low buzz emanating from behind the black lacquer doors leading into the private area our father reserved for his beloved team. The closer we get, the louder it becomes and the clearer the sound of multiple male voices is from the other side. When the hostess places her hand on the shiny silver knob, I know there is no turning back.

When the doors open, I stop dead in my tracks. The room is packed with a hundred or so men and maybe a handful of women, making it impossible to move forward. The place has the ambience of a swanky lounge. High top tables for mingling and velvet red sofas are thrown in random corners for seating. This barely looks like a dinner setting, and I am a little confused, until my eyes find three long and formal tables set up in the far back corner.

“Hey, Lyndsey, over here,” a rough, deep voice shouts from the left.

Lyndsey looks over at a tall, broad blond with hair in a wild spiky mess waving her over. He’s in a group of four guys gathered around the bar. Wearing expensive tailored suits, they all look to be around our age, in their early twenties. Based on their spectacular physiques, I assume they are all teammates on the Bruisers.

“Hi, Louis,” Lyndsey says as we approach their circle.

Louis practically blushes, taking a sip from his drink. I have to smile, noticing my sister’s oblivion to the way he keeps sneaking lustful looks at her. He’s definitely the best looking one of out the four, with his broad shoulders and soft hazel eyes. The two guys on either side of him are both a bit shorter, stocky with the same crooked nose. The fourth guy has a buzz cut and scar above his right eye.

They all must know about Louis’s unspoken claim on Lyndsey, because all three of them gawk in my direction.

“Well, well, Miss Ashby. What a pleasant surprise.” Louis smiles, draping his arm around her bare shoulders, then looks in my direction. “Are you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“This is Quinn, my sister. The other Ashby,” Lyndsey says with an adorable smile that makes Louis zero in on her lips. “She’s the one I told you about that ditched me for the past four years to study at the University of Pennsylvania.”

I give them an awkward wave, watching them study my uncomfortable presence.

“Quinn, this is Louis.” Lyndsey peels his hand off her shoulders. Then she points at one of the look-alikes. “This is Fisher.” Her finger slides over to the buzz cut. “This is Viktor.” And then she points to the other look-alike. “And this is Jeremy. They all play on the Bruisers”

“Ah Hilton’s other pride and joy,” Jeremy says with a half-smile. “When Hilton became President of Hockey Operations he told us he had a second daughter. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“So where’s Cash?” Lyndsey interrupts.

“You’re not still into him are you?” Louis asks, sounding jealous.

“No, just curious,” she says, sending a smug look in my direction.

“Fuck, who knows where he is?” Viktor shrugs. “He’d better show up in the next fifteen minutes. Theo is going to be furious if he has to drive to his penthouse again and yank him out of an orgy.”

“He’s having an orgy?” Lyndsey asks, looking intrigued.

“When I left his place, he had two girls there.” Louis mumbles.

Great. Not only is he a goon on the ice, he’s also some sort of sex demon.

“Can we get you ladies a drink?” Louis changes the subject, with his eyes stuck on Lyndsey’s cleavage.

“Yes, I’ll have a martini,” she says. I shoot her an annoyed look. Lyndsey’s constant need to have a drink in her hand worries me. For what we’ve been though, I’d wish she would stop associating fun with alcohol.

“What about you, Quinn?” Viktor asks.

“Oh no thank you. I don’t drink.” I reply, and look over at Lyndsey. She avoids my gaze, and shrugs at Viktor like she’s forgotten why I’ve chosen to steer clear of alcohol, which only irritates me further.

“Really?” he asks in disbelief.

I nod, “Yes really. But thank you for offering.”

“Can I get you something else? A water?” Viktor asks.

“One drink isn’t going to kill you.” Lyndsey says.

“A water would be great. Thank you.” I reply to Viktor, biting back my continued annoyance with my sister.

“Wait here, ladies. I'll grab your drinks.” Viktor says.

“I’ll come with you.” Fisher follows Viktor to the bar.

The hole where Viktor and Fisher stood is replaced by a view of our father a few feet away talking among a group of men. In mid-laugh, his eyes travel over to our circle, a pleased grin on his face.

“Girls, you’re here.” He pushes through the crowd.

Lyndsey squeals, running in his direction, and wraps her arms around his neck. “Daddy!”

“You girls look beautiful.” He smiles proudly, straightening out his tie that Lyndsey ruffled. He glances over at his players. “You boys better treat my daughters like ladies or I’ll have your asses traded.” He chuckles, and Louis and Jeremy awkwardly join in, but I know from experience he isn’t joking.

When it comes to Lyndsey and me, he turns into Super Dad— a mix of protective and loving all rolled into one hell of a man. After our mother passed away, he took a very active role in raising us on his own. I’ll be the first to admit he needs to ease up a bit when it comes to men and potential boyfriends sniffing around his daughters. But I get it. After everything we’ve been through, he wants a sane, steady life for us.

“Don’t worry, old man. They’re in good hands,” Louis replies.

“They better be.” My dad pulls a cigar from the front pocket of his suit jacket. He looks over my right shoulder as a guest catches his attention. “Quinn darling, can you come with me? It will only be a second. There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Sure, Dad.” I catch Lyndsey wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I follow our father through the crowd, weaving through the swarm of men. We squeeze through two high-top tables, and I trip on my heels, stumbling forward into two strong arms. When I look up, two dark brown eyes sparkle in front of me with a boyish glimmer. The stranger steadies me on my feet as I note his clean-shaven face and strong jaw line. I assure myself that I’m glad this isn’t Cash Brooks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, straightening me up on my feet.

I nod, my gaze slides over his extra slim-fit, dark blue pinstripe suit. His light blue shirt and navy tie with flecks of red accentuate his polished style. His dark, curly hair is slicked back and adds another element of sophistication. He couldn’t be more than forty, and he has a smile so charming that it is hard not to smile back.

“This is Theo Martin,” my father says. “He’s the Chief Operating Officer of Marketing and Promotions for the Bruisers. He’s a Penn alum like you, and he holds an MBA from Harvard. You could learn a lot of him.”

“Your father has told me so many great things about you,” Theo says. “He says you graduated a semester early and at the top of your undergrad business school class. I hear you’re interested in marketing and communications.”

Once again I nod, confused by what my father is trying to do here.

“Are you planning on staying in Bexley for a while?” Theo asks.

“Hopefully. I’ve applied to graduate school for the fall. I’ve been accepted at a few colleges already, but I have my heart set on Harvard, I plan to get my MBA.” I feel myself ease up a bit. Talking about school, this I can do.

“You know, Theo is looking for an intern to help out in his department for the next six months,” my father chimes in. “I told him you might be interested.”

My gaze shifts from Theo to my father. Leave it to him to make sure I am taken care of and that I’m heading down the right path. He knows I’ve been applying to marketing firms all over the city. As great as my father’s intentions are, I don’t know if I want to be stuck working in promotions for a hockey team.

“Would you be interested?” Theo asks.

“In an interview?” I ask.

“No need for that. The job is yours if you want it. I need someone to help manage the Bruisers social media pages and our website. But mainly I’m looking for someone to help assist with coordinating media events for the team.”

I glance at my beaming father. The look of pride in his eyes is begging me to accept Theo’s offer. Dammit! I can’t find it in my heart to disappoint my dad. Screw Cash and my damn hormones. I need the job and the experience, so why not?

“Count me in,” I say, although my voice is a lot shakier than expected. It’s hard to fathom seeing Cash on a daily basis at the arena after being subjected to his inappropriate caveman-like attempt to make me swoon behind the penalty box.

“Wonderful!” my father exclaims, slapping Theo on the back. “You two will make a great team.”

“Can you start on Monday?” Theo asks.

“Definitely,” I say, even though I’m already starting to regret agreeing to take the job.

I feel a tug on my arm and turn to see Lyndsey holding a bottle of water out to me. Louis and his posse are behind her.

“Your water.” She peers over my shoulder and waves. “Hi, Theo.”

Does my sister know everyone? How much time does she spend with the team? She’s like the Bruisers’ goddamn mascot.

I look over my shoulder and see Theo wave back before engaging in a side conversation with our father.

“What was that all about?” Lyndsey asks.

“Theo offered me an internship in Marketing and Promotions for the Bruisers.” I take a sip from my water.

Lyndsey’s eyes light up. “No way. Please tell me you accepted it.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let Dad down,” I mumble.

My whole life I’ve felt like I’m expected to follow the path my father has set out for me. If he’s happy, it makes my life a whole lot easier. I can’t complain too much about his interference though. Adding sports marketing to my resume would definitely add some versatility to my experience.

“You will love working with Theo. He’s super focused and on the ball. If you’re looking for a great mentor, he’s your guy,” Louis pipes up.

“I guess that means we’re going to be seeing a lot of you, then?” Viktor says with a smile. “It must be my lucky day.”

I take a deep breath and ignore Viktor’s flirtations.

“Where’s the ladies room?”

Lyndsey points the way. “We’ll wait for you here.”

I round the corner into the secluded hall leading to the washrooms, and my heart stops. Cash on the ice, sweaty and dressed in hockey equipment, was sexy, but the Cash sitting feet away, wearing an expensive modern-fit, pastel brown suit, is insanely hot. I eye the two women perched on either side of him on the red velvet chaise. To his right, a long-haired blonde with extensions rests a possessive hand on his chest. To his left, a woman with jet black hair toys with her side ponytail while running the fingers of her other hand through his wavy honey-colored hair.

His piercing blue gaze snaps to mine, and he tilts his head to the side, studying me. A cocky grin curves his full lips. I move forward, unable to breathe as his stare slides down my peplum dress, stopping once at my breasts and once at my hips. His eyes lock with mine and I fiddle with the gold-toned slider bracelet around my wrist. He pushes up from the chaise, abandoning the two women feeling him up in the corner. I turn away, and as my palm slams against the door of the ladies’ room, a big, warm hand closes around my wrist.