Apparently, Operation: Bond Bromann to the Team required tequila.

The entire team was out, including Dominick Masters, who’d only really started opening up to our team last season. Seth McCabe and Braxton were there, taking a rare night out from their wives. Didn’t blame them though. They both had young babies at home.

The only guy missing was Garrett, but he’d called and said one of his twins was throwing up and he didn’t want to leave his wife, Lizzie, to deal with it alone. Even if I heard her screaming in the background that she’d be fine.

Understandable. Fortunately, the rest of the team was here, tossing back drinks and trading battle stories of our time in the junior and minor leagues. The mood was light, and I was probably the only person sitting there with regret lining my stomach.

Fuck it.

Three shots and two drinks in, I was ready to forget Ava for a night. Hell, maybe I’d find someone else. Life had been too busy to date much in the years since she’d left, and it took me a full year to even consider it, but I’d never met a woman who measured up.

Doubtful anyone would. Ava had been made for me—and I’d screwed that up nice and well.

Fuck. A night of drinks and friends was what I needed. Not a night thinking about my ex-wife, who was getting married over Thanksgiving weekend. Some asshole with three first names or something or other she’d met shortly after moving back to her family’s house on Long Island.

Whatever.

“Dance!” Alix cried and jostled my arm.

My head spun, and yeah… I was good and drunk. Maybe I could grab a woman for a night of barely-satisfying sex for the first time since my wife left me. Maybe that was what I needed.

A jolt to get back into the game.

Better than going home alone.

“All right, all right.” I shoved off the chair and waited a minute to make sure I was steady.

Goddamn. Thirty and too old for this shit. My body was probably as sore as my dad’s after a day of working the cattle. Except he was fifty-five and had been hauling hay and cattle and horses and hogs since before I was born. He had an excuse.

But damn, I felt old as I followed Alix and Ryder down to the dance floor. I squinted to block out the glare of the lights and almost stumbled on one of the steps on the way down.

Shit. I was drunk. Alix turned back, smiling like a jackass, clearly catching my near fall. My cheeks were numb. Must have been smiling.

Yeah… good and drunk.

Now to find a barely dressed chick on the floor, perhaps one from the trio of blondes Alix was leading us to. Two of them had been smiling up at the second floor where we were perched all night. Neon-colored, skintight dresses, with slashes of fabric missing at their sides, above their hips, the necklines dipped low, showed off ample cleavage.