“Sounds pretty good to me.” The words were out of my mouth before I could drag them back. Every single set of eyes turned to me, their focus like lasers as they stared at me. “I mean the hockey part, not the pounding. I mean… Woo, is that the time? I better go to bed.”

I shifted to my feet and stood up, the world swaying a little in my peripheral vision. Drinking while sitting in front of the fire was a trap; you never knew how hard it was hitting you until you needed to move.

Rigby stood quickly. “I’m going too. I’ll walk you up so we can all rest easier knowing you aren’t going to fall down the stairs.”

I expected River and Devan to protest, but they didn’t. They just watched me with expressions that I couldn’t decipher. Maybe they thought I was an alcoholic? Though the fact I was tipsy off three bottles of beer probably didn’t lend much credence to the idea.

I muttered a goodnight under my breath and hightailed it inside. I could hear Rigby’s chuckles from behind me, and I turned to look over my shoulder at him.

“You’re a bit of a lightweight there, sweetheart.” I flipped him the finger, and he just laughed.

“We aren’t all pickled. I’m out of practice. In college, I could have drank that beer upside down at a kegger and still passed a sobriety test.”

“Really?”

I sighed at the bottom of the stairs. Why were there so many? “No. I was a lightweight then too. But I wasn’t this bad. Did you add an extra ten stairs while we were out? How the hell do you climb that after a big game?”

“Normally, we go out for drinks after a game, and I don’t come home until the following day if I’m lucky.”

I faux-gasped. “Rigby Engman, are you a manwhore?”

He laughed as he took two big steps toward me and lifted me in his arms like a bride. “Reformed manwhore. There’s only so much meaningless sex you can have before it becomes a chore. Still feels nice, but so does fucking my fist in the shower, and my fist won’t poke holes in the condom or talk to the media about me.”

I looked up at him with wide eyes. “People haven’t?” I breathed, horrified at the very idea of selling private details to the press, let alone trying to baby-trap someone. Who does that shit?