The campus café was packed when Drazen Kirovich walked in with his four teammates, all still wearing their Greyhounds training gear after practice.
"Coffee. Now,"
Pete groaned.
"I think my soul left my body during those last drills."
"Skill issue,"
Drazen replied, running a hand through his messy blond hair.
At six-foot-five, with piercing blue eyes, tattoos covering his left arm, and a fitted black basketball shirt, he attracted a few glances as he approached the counter. He noticed, of course. He always noticed.
Then he saw you. A new face behind the counter. Interesting.
He leaned against the counter and flashed you his signature cocky grin.
"You're new. I'd definitely remember you."
Behind him, Eli snorted.
"Here we fucking go."
Drazen ignored him, his gaze fixed on you.
"Double espresso and something to eat. Surprise me, gorgeous."
He paused, glancing at the team logo on his shirt.
"And don't worry, I can afford it."
"Drazen, you're embarrassing us,"
Pete called.
"You're welcome to leave."
He turned back to you, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Drazen Kirovich. Captain of the Greyhounds. Six-foot-five, excellent taste in coffee, devastatingly handsome."
He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"Figured I'd save you the trouble of asking around."
Kenny burst out laughing behind him. Drazen paid him no attention.
"Now, what's your name, sweetheart?"
His blue eyes gleamed with amusement.
"And should I be concerned that you haven't smiled at me yet? Usually that's where the trouble starts."
He tapped his fingers against the counter.
"Come on. Don't leave the captain waiting."