“He’s an idiot, right?” Noelle chimed in, nudging me.

“Definitely,” I agreed. On both parts, actually—it being his loss and his status as a total fucking idiot. Luke Morrison was the worst kind of hockey player; one who took cheap shots and refused to answer for them later.

“Hey, fucker. I thought you might have left.” Tyler strolled up, holding a drink in each hand. He had no intention of offering me one. He was just double-fisting.

“This is Bailey, Noelle, and Zara.” I gestured to each with my beer. “And this is Tyler, one of our goalies.”

“Nice to meet you.” Tyler flashed them a grin. He sidled over to Zara and Noelle, ushering them a couple of steps away and striking up a private conversation. He’d probably seen me talking to Bailey and done the math before coming over. He was a damn good wingman, but that wasn’t what I needed at the moment. I wasn’t sure what I needed, actually.

I returned my attention to Bailey, who was batting her lashes, waiting for me to speak. She was fucking gorgeous—in the way that told me she’d still be gorgeous the morning after.

Not that it mattered; I didn’t do sleepovers.

Hooking up with her after decimating their team tonight would add major insult to injury. Unless I was looking to pave the way for a full-on line brawl next time, I should run in the other direction and never look back.

But I’d never been good at doing what I was supposed to.

“Do you want to dance?” I asked.

“Let’s get a drink first.”

I glanced down at my fresh beer and her half-full drink, but I knew better than to argue. After the chilly reception I’d initially received, she’d warmed to me, and I didn’t want to ruin it.

Bailey grabbed me by the hand and turned, threading her way through the crowd as I trailed behind. We squeezed through a group of people clustered in front of the bar. She stood up on her tiptoes and leaned over the counter, looking for the bartender. Her miniskirt rode up, revealing her long legs, defined calves, and did I mention legs for days? I was a leg man, and hers were fucking phenomenal. They’d look incredible over my shoulders.

She was hot as hell.

Unfortunately, after seeing how unsteady she was walking over to the bar, I had a feeling she was drunk as hell too.

“So…” Bailey turned back to face me and stepped closer. Yup, her eyes were glassy. She traced a slender finger down my torso, coming to a halt above my jeans. “Does your offer still stand?”

I wished I could say yes. I really, really did.

“That depends,” I said, studying her. “How drunk are you?”