I knew what she was leading up to. I glared at her as I removed my coat and hat, trying to contain a grin as I warned, "Case, don't say it"

"Hey, Avery. Why don't you tell Simon and Zac about that night you spent in the penalty box!"

"What?" the guys laughed out, waiting on my explanation.

I shot Casey a dirty look. "It wasn't the whole night," I defended, twisting my hair into a ponytail.

Zac leaned back in his seat and crossed his hands over his stomach. "Oh, now I just have to hear this one."

I groaned through a laugh, figuring there was no way to get out of telling the story. I waited for our server to finish unloading our beers onto the table before starting in. "Okay. When I was little, I used to spend a lot of time at the arena."

"You spend a lot of time there now," Zac said.

"No. I pop in on occasion. When I was around ten or eleven, I was there all the time."

"Okay"

"Well. I used to putter around the building after practices, score some free snacks from the concessions, play with the air-dryers in the bathrooms, stuff like that. Basically, Dad always knew where to find me when it was time to go. This one night, I snuck off and went to hang out in the rink-I loved being in that big, empty space by myself-and I guess I was waiting there for so long that I fell asleep. By the time my father was ready to leave, I was nowhere to be found. He went crazy searching for me in all my usual spots. No one had seen me. They called arena security, and eventually, the Rutherford police."

"Shut up!" Simon laughed.

"One of the janitors finally found me hours later in the penalty box, sleeping like I didn't have a care in the world. Problem is, I'd been in there so long, they thought I fell asleep because of hypothermia. I kept saying I was fine, but they brought me to the hospital anyway to make sure."

Zac was grinning like an idiot as he asked, "And?"

"And, clean bill of health. They sent me out of there with this weird silver blanket, and I went home, good as new."

"Awww, Diddums," Zac faux-sympathized.

"Hey, I got a new bike out of the deal. I'm not complaining. I just always feel bad for doing that to my father! He was worried sick."

"Jesus," Simon chortled. "I think that qualifies you for some sort of record. Even McAllister hasn't spent that many minutes in the bin!"

Casey shook her head. "Avery, I swear to God, you're such a wacko sometimes."

I laughed, but didn't get the chance to deliver an appropriate rebuttal, because Zac put a hand over mine and shot back, "Why do you think I like her so much?"

The bones of my hand turned to mush at his touch, but the rest of me positively melted when I saw the look on his face. He was aiming a crooked smile in my direction, his gorgeous green eyes raking over me in appreciation.

I'd seen that same look a few times over the past two years, and it always knocked me out just as much as it had that first time, the night when he was trying to show me how he 'didn't need lines.'

With that smoldering mug staring me down, I became well aware that he certainly did not.

I didn't know what I'd done to warrant "the look" tonight. We'd spent a lot of time in each other's company, and he often flirted with me, but that was only because he flirted with everybody. The sex appeal was just a huge chunk of his personality not like I was going to complain. You remember that little dinosaur in Jurassic Park who spit the acid in Newman's face? Yeah. That was what it was like being around Zac. You'd just be hanging out, minding your own business, when SPLAT!

Dead.

"You only like her because you thought she wanted to jump your bones," Simon said.

I almost choked on my beer. What the fuck, Simon? How would he even know something like that? It's not as though I ever told him how I felt. I barely even mentioned anything to Casey, for godsakes, and she was my best friend! Were my feelings just that obvious? Oh God. Kill me.

Thankfully, Casey jumped in to cover. "What the hell are you talking about? She hated him that first night and has barely tolerated him since!"

Simon cracked up at that. It wasn't every day that Zac got shot down, so I was sure his friend found it amusing when he did.

"You've tolerated me?" Zac asked.

I aimed a what-the-hell look at Casey. "Why would you go and say something like that?"

Sure, I'd kept my distance. But I didn't mean for him to think it was because I didn't like him. I was truly happy with the friendship we'd formed, and impressed with the guy I'd discovered under all that swagger.

I turned to Zac, hoping he wasn't actually insulted. "Tolerate is the wrong word. So is hate, for that matter. I think you and I have always just had differing goals for how we think our evenings should go."

His mouth gaped. "You think I'm a slut."

Simon laughed out, "Who are you kidding, sitting there all hurt? You love when people think you're a slut."

"No" I answered. "I don't think that. I-"

"I thought you were an angel."

That is not as complimentary as it may have seemed. "The Angels" were a self-named assemblage of hockey groupies that had been coming to this bar for years.

"You thought I was one of the Angels?"

Zac stared blankly at me for a second too long, then let out with an uneasy laugh. "Well, you were wearing that tight shirt and those sexy boots. Why wouldn't I have thought you were a groupie?" He chuckled again as he added, "But then you got so offended when I put the moves on, I figured out pretty quickly that I read you wrong, and changed up my M.O. There I was, showing you my softer, chewy-nougat insides, and it turned out you were off-limits anyway."

"What?"

"Sorenson didn't tell me you were Brooks' daughter for three whole weeks." He looked over at Simon and added, "Asshole."

Simon was wearing a shit-eating grin as he cracked, "I thought it would be funnier if I didn't."

"Dickhead."

Chapter Six.

DECEMBER 31, 1998.

With only months remaining before I graduated college, I was looking forward to getting a real job that paid some real money. But for now, at the age of twenty-one, with my room and board paid for, I basically only needed enough to cover incidentals and beer money. But seeing as I was off the clock at Beans over holiday break, I wouldn't see my next paycheck until closer to February, and my stash was already wearing thin.

That didn't stop me from buying a new dress anyway.

I couldn't help myself. The thing was practically screaming at me from the display at Nordstrom's, where I'd done some Christmas shopping for my mom. Unfortunately, I was there to exchange the present I'd gotten her as she already had a blue pashmina. I scored a new pink one for her and a slinky gold gown for myself. I figured the dress would be perfect for Casey and Simon's wedding next fall.

Except this morning, they'd thrown a wrench in their original plans when they hopped a plane for Vegas instead.

Casey called me from a payphone at the airport to spill the news. I was shocked, and more than a little heartbroken, but ultimately, I couldn't be anything other than happy for her. They'd just gotten engaged at Thanksgiving, and I knew she immediately found the whole wedding thing overwhelming. As much as I was looking forward to helping her plan, I was well aware that they needed to do what was right for them. I was sad that I wouldn't be there for it, but the more she explained their decision, the more I became impressed with her logic.

"We just started asking ourselves why we were driving ourselves crazy with the thing, you know?" she asked at one point.

"No, I get it. I know you weren't enjoying any of the decision-making."

"Exactly. That's your department."

I snickered, but acknowledged that she was right.

I'd become quite the party planner over the years. Birthdays, sorority balls you name it. I was a very organized person by nature, and such skills came in handy whenever there were plans to be made. Aside from the fact that I totally reveled in the details, I loved having the control to make the decisions. Even during my sorority's committee meetings, I found most of the members would simply delegate all authority to me, and I was more than happy to take the reins. It might sound stupid, but after years of blending into the background, it felt empowering to finally stand out for my accomplishments. Even if said accomplishments were nothing more than pulling together an awesome party.

"Oh, whatever," I appeased. "Yes, I would have loved to help you plan the best wedding ever, but I completely understand why you're choosing to skip it."

"We know we love each other. Why should we wait?"

"You shouldn't." I figured her parents might have felt a bit differently, but then again, they were pretty laid back people. Maybe they'd even be relieved. "Oh my God. The next time I see you, you'll be married!"

"Eeek! I know! Oh God. Wish us luck!"

"Good luck! Tell Simon, too."

"I will. Love you!"

"Love you, too."

I hung up the phone and slunk down onto the bed. When Casey first told me she and Simon had gotten engaged, I was surprised. But thinking about the fact that she was actually going to be married within a matter of twenty-four hours was positively surreal.

My brain tried to register the new information as I eyed my new dress. It was hanging from my closet door, still with the tags on it, still returnable. Long, slinky, shimmery sexy, but chaste enough for a formal occasion. I'd tried it on in the store and fell in love with the skinny straps, the fitted bodice, the dropped-cowl neckline that made me look boobier than I actually was.

I realized that even though I was Maryann I could still rock one hell of a Ginger dress.

My plan was to show it to Casey for final approval. One of the only decisions she'd made was to have me as her sole bridesmaid, and because of that, she was planning to let me pick my own gown. But I wanted to make sure she liked it before getting my hopes up about keeping it. Shame of it was that I knew she'd say it was perfect, but now it looked as though I'd be returning it after all.

I walked over to the gown, and before I could think about the ramifications of my actions, I ripped off the tags and threw them in the garbage. It was New Year's Eve, and what better way to kick off the new year than in a fabulous new dress?

Johnny's was hopping already and it was barely nine o'clock. I assume it was the new dress that gave me some much-needed confidence, because I went there alone. I knew the whole crowd would be there, as they weren't scheduled for another game until January 3, giving them three whole days to blow off some steam.

It looked as though the party was well underway.

I ditched my coat and grabbed an unoccupied stool at the bar next to Guillaume, not far from where the rest of my hockey friends were congregating.

"Hey, Guy! Happy New Year!" I said, as I leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek.

He looked at me appreciatively, letting out with a whistle. "That is some dress."

I blushed from my head down to my toes. "Thank you. It's New Year's. I figured I'd live a little, you know?"

"Well, I'm glad you're living. I think my heart just stopped."

I gave him another kiss for that.

I ordered a glass of champagne from the bartender, and while I was waiting for it to be delivered, a searing heat made its way down my spine. I turned to find Zac standing there, but I didn't need visual confirmation that it was him. From the electric charge I was feeling along my skin, I already knew it was his hand at my back.

"Happy New Year," he said, all smooth and Zachary. It wasn't standard protocol for him to beeline in my direction the first minute I showed up, and I was suddenly very glad I'd worn my new gold dress out that night. I decided right then and there that I would wear the thing every waking moment for the rest of my life.

"Happy New Year, Zac."

His beautiful green eyes held a trace of apprehension as he leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I became aware of the fact that I was throwing him off guard. Me. Avery Brooks. I was throwing him for a loop. That had never happened before.

Thank you, God, for alluring dresses and captivated men who smell like peppermint.

Guillaume grabbed his drink and offered Zac his seat. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said with an evil grin.

"That doesn't leave much," Zac spat back. He slid onto the stool and waited for the bartender. "Flying solo tonight?" he asked, scanning his eyes around our immediate area.

"Yep. Did you hear about Simon and Casey?"

"Sure did. Got the call from the airport."

"Me too."

He swiped a hand through his hair and said, "Jesus! I can't believe they're actually going through with it."

I looked at him curiously. "Why would you say that? They were planning to do it anyway, now they're just doing it sooner."

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head at the floor. He raised his eyes to mine and explained, "Simon and me are the same age. It's just hard to imagine getting married at twenty-three."

I huffed, "Well, of course you can't imagine it."

"Hey, whoa. It's not that I can't. It's that I choose not to. Most guys my age feel the same way."

"Most girls, too."

"Bullshit."

"Huh?"

"Come on," he said, lowering an eyebrow. "Most girls I know have only one goal and one goal only." He nodded his head in the direction of a group of bunnies fawning all over Guillaume. "Marry some rich guy and spend all his money."

"How optimistic of you."

"It's the truth."