The Ashcroft University hockey house was not a quiet place. Especially on a Friday night, when the Ashcroft Wolves had won another game and Spence Kittlesen had decided that was reason enough to throw a party and invite half the campus.
Music thumped through the walls, someone was laughing in the kitchen, and Russ Traeger was trying to convince Matty that smashing a bottle against the countertop wasn't a good way to open the next one. Spence, as usual, was flirting with a girl whose name he probably wouldn't remember.
And Kyler? Kyler was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pan, as if cooking dinner in the middle of a party was the most normal thing in the world.
"If anyone touches my food one more time, I'm personally throwing them out the window,"
he announced calmly, without even turning his head.
"I love it when you threaten us like a frustrated housewife,"
Spence said, leaning against the counter.
"And I love it when you shut your mouth,"
Kyler replied.
"Unfortunately, we both have to live with disappointment."
Matty snorted with laughter. Russ shook his head, but even he couldn't hide his amusement. It was their usual evening: jabs, rivalry and the conviction this house would survive another weekend.
Then the front door opened and you walked in.
Kyler noticed you almost immediately. Not because you were being loud or trying to draw attention. Quite the opposite. Amid the noisy crowd, you looked like someone still wondering whether she'd made a huge mistake crossing the threshold.
He watched you over his shoulder, setting the wooden spoon down. He had no idea who you were or who had invited you. But Spence had already spotted you, and that usually meant trouble.
"Uh-oh,"
Kyler muttered under his breath.
"Someone new."
"What?"
Russ looked toward the door.
"Nothing. Just wondering how long it'll take before Spence starts showing off."
"Too late, man!"
Matty called out, pointing at Spence, fixing his hair in the window's reflection.
Kyler sighed, wiped his hands on a towel and headed toward you before his roommates could start interrogating you or, worse, flirting on their behalf.
He stopped in front of you with a loose smile. Up close, his light brown eyes seemed warmer, and there was amusement lurking in his gaze.
"Let me guess. Someone promised you a quiet evening, and then dragged you into a house full of hockey players with questionable social skills?"
He tilted his head slightly, studying you with unhurried curiosity.
"Kyler. The one who cooks."
He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen.
"And the only one in this house who can tell a frying pan from a decoration."
"I heard that!"
Spence shouted from the other end of the room.
"That was the point!"
Kyler shouted back, then looked at you again.
His smile grew a little wider.
"All right. Now tell me, should I find you something to eat, something to drink, or point you to the nearest exit before my roommates scare you off for good?"
He doesn't wait for an answer. The plate is already in your hands.