Page 16 of Home for the Hockey-Days

Bastard.

The shame of being taken for a fool drags its nails through my skin with ease.

I swore off hockey players, athletes of all kinds, until August.

When I crashed into him, literally, my heart stopped dead.

When he got out of the car, and I saw him, it felt more likehecrashed intome.

I thought we had a moment. Granted, he was kinda pissed at me for destroying his beloved vehicle, but I thought the lightning strike of carnal attraction had hit both of us. I thought he wanted to rip my clothes off and give me a good pounding as much as I wanted him to.

He surveys the room, filling out his tux in a way that should be illegal. Broad shoulders, thick neck, bulging biceps… fuck. My panties are damp just from staring.

When his eyes graze over me from the doorway, I start to lift my hand to wave but stop when his rakish stare keeps moving.

What the fuck?

Maybe he doesn’t recognize me in my fancy dress. I wouldn’t blame him. My transformation from swamp witch to Christmas ball babe was impressive as fuck, even if I do say so myself.

But when his hard stare glides over me a second time, I know it’s not an accident, because it fucking lingers on me.

He’s ignoring me?

What the hell?

I’m half tempted to walk right up to him, grab him by his shirt and kiss him senseless right here in front of everyone.

Does he not think I’m attractive?

I thought… I dunno, I thought I saw fire in his eyes when he looked at me.

Is he embarrassed by me?

He could at least have the decency to say hi, right?

As he stays on the edges of the room, a chill spreads through my bones as I realize the parallels between him and my ex.

Johnny only wanted me for one thing, my brain.

And the more I stare at the side of August’s unfairly beautiful face, I can’t help but wonder.

Is he just like my last boyfriend?

Does he only want me because I can help him get a passing grade?

I refuse to be used again. I refuse to be kept as someone’s dirty little secret. And I refuse to let August fucking Kade behave like he’s never seen me before.

Game on, hot shot.

CHAPTER 7

August

When dessert comes, a chair screeches somewhere across the table, but I don’t dare risk another look. My dick hasn’t gotten the memo that she’s mad at us, or that she’s off limits. Maybe it even likes that she’s mad at us because it’s pointing at her like a fucking street sign. Scott and Justin are bickering back and forth across me about something inane like I’m not even sitting there, but they stop when a throat clears to my left.

I turn to face a scowling Rowan with a plate in her hand which she quickly thrusts into my space. It takes me a minute to realize that she’s just cream pied me, and not the fun kind of cream pie.

Whipped cream sticks to my entire face. Justin snorts. Scott is howling, and I can feel Athena now trying to murder me from across the table with nothing but her eyes as well.

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