The private event is packed with the League players, sponsors, executives, and enough wealthy donors to make Norbert regret agreeing to come within ten minutes of arriving.
He’d rather be anywhere else.
Norbert stands near the bar in a black suit with the tie already loosened around his neck, half-listening while one of his teammates talks beside him.
A server approaches carrying a tray of champagne.
Norbert barely looks at her.
“Champagne?”
“No.”
His answer is automatic.
Then she moves to step around him, and something makes his eyes follow her.
He doesn’t know why.
There’s nothing familiar about her.
Not her face.
Not her body.
Not even the name printed neatly across the small tag pinned to her uniform.
It’s a name he’s never seen before.
Still, Norbert watches her cross the room.
His teammate notices.
“Seriously? The waitress?”
Norbert’s eyes narrow.
“Shut up.”
A few minutes later, she’s back.
This time carrying drinks toward another table when someone steps backward directly into her path.
Norbert’s hand shoots out before he thinks about it, catching the edge of the tray before it can tip.
“Careful.”
His eyes finally meet hers properly.
For one strange second, Norbert goes completely still.
Something about those eyes—
No.
He dismisses the thought almost immediately.
The girl they remind him of looked nothing like the woman standing in front of him.
And he hasn’t seen her since before the fame.
Norbert releases the tray slowly.
“You’re going to get flattened walking around a room full of hockey players.”
There’s the faintest hint of amusement in his voice now.
His gaze drops briefly to her name tag before returning to her face.
“New here?”