Page 44 of Revenge Puck

“Oh.” I try to recall what we may have said to each other. I think I only teased him about actually being the pro hockey star he claimed to be when I cut his hair the first time. Then I asked if he would tag the salon for free promotion.

“He, uh, did a decent thing, tagging you and encouraging the teammates to become clients.”

Preston looks like he would rather have all his teeth knocked out than admit something decent about Christian.

The waiter comes over before I can respond, placing menus in front of each of us.

“Good evening. Would you like to hear today’s specials or sample our featured wine?”

Preston doesn’t look at the man in his fancy server tux. He just stares at me. “If you want to leave, I won’t blame you.”

“I’m not going to leave,” I assure him, then give the waiter a smile. “Could we have a moment?”

“Of course,” he says before bowing and turning away.

“You’re not going to leave?” Preston asks as soon as he’s gone.

“No. I gave you my phone voluntarily. It’s not like you peeked at it without my permission. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Okay. Good,” he says, exhaling a relieved breath.

“I went through Christian’s phone a few times without him knowing,” I confess softly.

“You did?”

“Didn’t find anything except messages from his teammates. I think he deletes chat logs he has with women after he dumps them and blocks them, or when he decides he doesn’t want to see them anymore.”

“Fucking asshole,” Preston grits out.

As if on cue, my phone lights up with a new text alert. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” I remark.

“What do you mean? Riley just texted you? Like just now?”

I nod, then pick up my phone to toss it back into my purse before placing it on the hook on the side of the table. My bag may not be an expensive designer, but I don’t want it getting dirty on the floor.

“What did he say?” Preston asks.

“I don’t know. Don’t care either,” I tell him as I pick up the menu. “Let’s not talk about him anymore tonight.”

“Deal. I wish I didn’t have to think about him for the rest of my life.”

I glance up at the angry man across the table, wanting to ask yet again what caused him to hate Christian so much. But I remember Preston’s response last night that it’s “complicated.” Meaning, it’s none of my business.

So, I drop it, and instead focus on choosing which item on the menu to eat tonight while enjoying the company of my fake date.

I’ve just finished my salad when the buzzing starts up from my purse. Preston eyes it, then me. “The suspense is killing me.”

“But I thought we were going to avoid talking about him for the rest of the night,” I remind him.

“Like usual, the self-centered asshole refuses to let that happen.”

“He’ll stop eventually.”

Preston gives me a look that says he knows an easy way to stop it. I know I could easily block Christian’s phone number and that would be it. Why haven’t I done that yet? I have no freaking clue.

“Just read them, Elle. We don’t have anything else to do while we wait for our entrees.”

“Fine,” I mutter before retrieving my phone from my purse. Opening up the message log, I read them aloud for Preston without even knowing what they say. “Why are you avoiding me?Then, he saysI know you want to talk to me, or you would’ve blocked me already.”

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