O Goalie Night (The Ottawa Otters #1)

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

FOSTER

I t was just supposed to be the four of us.

Ben assured me it was going to be the four of us.

Surprise, surprise—it’s not just the four of us.

This is so on-brand for Ben; I shouldn’t be surprised. How many times has he told me one thing then delivered another?

I didn’t even have to say anything. Once we were alone in the ultra-modern kitchen, he started to apologise.

“They weren’t supposed to fucking be here,” he whined before taking a long pull from his beer. “I specifically told Valentina that I didn’t want her friends around tonight, but when I got home from the gym, they were already here. They’re always fucking here. And it’s not always those three, sometimes it’s stylists or other models, but it’s always someone. We haven’t spent a night alone in two weeks. Tell me that’s not fucked up.”

He looked so miserable that I didn’t want to make him feel worse. I let him continue to vent in hushed tones while grabbing extra champagne glasses .

I may be miffed at the unwanted company tonight, but Ben is absolutely livid.

Eager to get back to Beth, I told him it was fine. We’d be leaving soon enough for the Christmas party. Still, my concern is Beth. I’m used to being forced into unwanted social situations, but she’s not, and she’s alone out there. She was nervous enough about meeting Valentina and I’m hoping a drink might take the edge off.

She seems to be doing fine, however.

The guy with the perfect haircut and unnaturally white teeth is standing far too close to her, his hand on her arm.

I hate it.

I step in and hand Beth the flute of champagne, trying to steady my nerves. I’m so tense it’s a wonder I don’t shatter the delicate glass in my grip. Standing closer to her than necessary, I slip my hands into my pockets and give Dante a slow, measured look. His eyes widen, and he takes a step back before returning to his seat on the couch. Message received.

I might not be much of a conversationalist, but my methods of non-verbal communication are just fine.

Beth raises her glass and takes a slow sip of champagne. Her eyes flash with surprise at my possessive display, but the slight curve of her lips says she enjoyed it. The red lipstick she's wearing is a perfect match to the vibrant shade of her dress and I can’t take my eyes off of her.

That fucking dress. The moment I saw her in it, my heart stopped altogether and my brain followed suit. Unfortunately, my dick was alive and kicking, which was less than ideal considering our host’s proximity. It clings to her like a second skin, outlining every graceful curve, and all I can think about is holding her just as close. She seems more relaxed now, the tension from earlier gone. Watching her socialise with this new crowd, I make a decision. If she can get along with these people, then so can I.

For her. I’ll do anything for her.

“I could use a refill.” The dark-haired alpha-predator rises from her seat and saunters over to me. “Join me? What’s your poison?”

Correction: I can’t get along with this one.

“Foster doesn’t drink, Xan,” Ben says as he joins us. He holds the open champagne bottle in his hands. Xan pouts at me like I’ve disappointed her before holding out her glass to Ben. He pretends not to notice, filling everyone else’s glasses before hers.

I see Ben enjoys her company as much as I do.

My eyes look everywhere but her, though I can still feel her watching me. Subtlety is an artform this woman doesn’t possess.

As a pro athlete I’ve had my fair share of women pursue me. It only bothers me when they refuse to respect when I’m not interested.

This is one of those times.

What’s worse is that I can sense Beth’s discomfort returning as the conversation resumes around us. Her eyes keep shifting nervously to Xan, like she expects her to pounce on me.

If we were anywhere else, surrounded by strangers, I’d pull Beth against me. Drape my arm around her shoulder and keep her glued to me all night so there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that we belonged to each other.

But in this condo with her already upset brother, there’s nothing I can do but ignore Xan and hope she gets the hint sooner rather than later.

“Babe, do you want to open another bottle of bubbles?” Valentina phrases this as if it’s a question, but there is only one clear answer.

“We’ll have to leave for dinner soon,” Ben responds, a pointed gaze fixed on Valentina.

“We can be late,” she responds, a slight annoyance in her tone as she stares at the swirling alcohol in her glass.

“Yeah, Benny,” Xan adds, like an idiot who just found a hornet’s nest and pokes it with a stick. “It’s rude to invite us here only to tell us to leave.”

He glares at her. “Now that you bring it up, I don’t remember inviting you in the first place.”

I stifle a laugh. Something tells me that will only make matters worse. Everyone stands in uncomfortable silence.

“Ben, I need your help with something in the bedroom,” Valentina says flatly and heads towards the hallway. Ben rolls his eyes and turns to follow. He’s not even trying to hide his irritation anymore.

“Well, that was awkward,” Xan sniffs before draining her glass.

Dante gives her a look of pure disdain but says nothing.

The English woman, whose name I’ve forgotten, doesn’t hold back. “For fuck’s sake, Xan. Why do you always have to remind us what a slag you are? Do us all a favour and seek professional help.”

Xan doesn’t look chagrined in the least. In fact, she looks extremely pleased at the chaos she’s created. “Whatever, Gwen. I need a cigarette.” Her cold eyes slide back to me. “Join me? ”

“No, thanks.”

She sidles up to me, placing her hand on my arm and running it over my bicep. “You don’t drink. You don’t smoke. Maybe we should get out of here and I can figure out what your vice is.”

Even through the layers of clothing, her touch makes my skin crawl.

“Maybe you shouldn’t touch people without their consent.”

Beth’s words are followed by a stunned silence. Her voice is gentle, almost sweet, like she’s talking to one of her students.

“Is that so?” Xan’s mouth twists into a cruel smile.

“It is. Personal boundaries are very important and should always be respected. It’s a lesson that children are taught in Kindergarten. I can teach you a song to help you remember, if you’d like.” Beth's complete lack of aggression is pissing Xan off, much to her friends’ amusement.

“I’d like to hear the song,” the English woman apparently named Gwen says, raising her hand in the air and barely holding back her laughter.

“I would also like to hear this song,” Dante agrees.

“Fuck you both.” Xan spits out before turning on Beth. “As for you, Second-Hand Sue, if Foster doesn’t want me to touch him, he can–”

“I don’t want you to touch me.”

She turns at me, and slides her hand further up my arm. “You don’t mean that,” her voice dripping with flirtation, like this is part of the chase. I’m guessing she hasn’t been turned down before.

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life. Ever. ”

Xan removes her hand and drops the sex kitten act, her expression souring.

Beth claps. She actually claps. “Thank you for using your listening ears, Xan. Now, as my brother said, we have another event to go to.”

Gwen and Dante exchange delighted looks before setting down their glasses and starting for the front door.

“It was an absolute pleasure,” Gwen tells Beth, giving her a peck on the cheek before she leaves. “You have no idea.”

“Take care of that dress, my dear,” Dante adds with a wink. “Hold on to that one,” he says in a low voice as he walks past me. Maybe I judged this guy too quickly.

Xan, who seems less than thrilled by this turn of events, starts dragging her heels when she reaches the door. “I have a coat!”

Beth reaches into the closet and pulls out what appears to be a purple fur coat. “Is this it?”

Xan scowls and snatches the monstrosity from her hand. Beth grins.

“Oh good. I just grabbed the tackiest one and hoped for the best.”

I can hear Gwen’s howl of laughter from the hallway.

“You miserable cu–”

“Bye, Xan! Don’t trip over your cloven hooves on your way out!” Beth slams the door in her face.

She takes a few deep breaths before turning to face me. We stare at one another for a few beats before I erupt into laughter.

I laugh long and hard, the kind of laughter that makes your stomach ache and your lungs burn. Beth joins in which only makes me laugh harder. She covers her mouth and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s trying to quiet herself or she can’t believe the things she just said.

Eventually, we get control of ourselves and calm down.

The urge to hold her is so strong, but I remind myself where we are. I settle for looking at her like she’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, because that’s exactly what she is.

She smoothes her hands over her hair and straightens her dress before saying, “I think that went well.” And the laughter begins again.