Geneva.

I hesitated, waging an internal war between the smart thing to do versus what I wanted to do. I should walk away, but my feet were on strike, and my body was leading the picket line. Not even my head had any interest in crossing that picket line. Instead, it was more interested in crossing another line I dared not cross. I started to take a step toward the elevator while still drooling over her.

At that very instant, she glanced up, and our eyes met. She plastered a fake smile on her face and gave me a little wave. Now I had a dilemma, keep on walking and be considered rude, or take my chances by going inside to say hello.

Strike over because their demands had been met, my feet answered the question for me, and within seconds I stood near her table, fidgeting like some fucking pimply-faced eighth-grader. She took a sip of her beer and glanced at the menu open on the table in front of her. I recalled the equipment staff hadn’t been present for dinner. They rarely were on these road trips as they were usually too busy unloading the truck and getting stuff ready at the away arena.

“Mind if I join you?” I heard the words as if someone else had said them, but no one else did, just me.

“If I did, would that stop you?” She lifted her head defiantly. God, she was gorgeous when she was all badass like that. Her unwelcome behavior didn’t discourage me, quite the opposite.

I grinned as I pondered her question. “Probably not.” I slid into the booth seat across from her. The waitress hurried to our table and gave me a once-over. I got that a lot, and I was used to it. Most of the time, I either smiled politely back or, prior to a week ago, I might give an especially interesting woman my number for a rendezvous later. Now I wasn’t interested in her or any of the women who’d hung around the bros’ table earlier this evening. Geneva was the only woman I was interested in. I knew this madness had to stop, but tonight wasn’t the night.

With a sultry smile on her face, the waitress leaned toward me, making sure I got an eyeful of ample cleavage. I wasn’t ashamed, I had to look. After all, I was a guy. Huh? Well, they were nice, but they didn’t do a thing for me.

“What’ll you have, handsome?” she purred. She was pretty and curvy. Any other time, I’d have probably suggested she slip up to my room as soon as she was off shift. Tonight and for the near future, that wouldn’t be an option, not with Jock in the room, and certainly not with his hot sister casting judgment from across the table.

“Whatever IPA you have on tap.”

She frowned at my disinterested tone and gave Geneva a brief but critical appraisal. Maybe to another woman, Geneva didn’t appear to be much competition, but to me, she was hot as hell, even dressed in her Sockeyes polo and khakis, with her dark hair in a ponytail and very little makeup. Geneva didn’t need makeup. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, even without all that crap women caked on their faces.