Page 22 of Silver Fox Puck

Talia gestures at me like she’s presenting Exhibit A. "You. The constant fidgeting. The zoning out. The nervous energy." She crosses her arms. "I haven’t seen you like this since the Australian surfer guy."

I glare. "That was different."

"How?"

I open my mouth. Then close it. Because I don’t have a good answer.

That surfer guy? He was fun. A wild, flirty, two-day whirlwind that ended exactly how it was supposed to—with no feelings attached.

But this?

This feels… different.

And that’s exactly what pisses me off.

Silver Fox, hotel bar guy, ridiculously good in bed man is not supposed to be different.

It’s not just that the sex was hot. It’s that he stuck.

And I shouldn’t even know his name.

But I do.

Because I saw it.

In the quiet hush of the early morning, as I slid out of bed and reached for my clothes, my gaze flicked to the dresser.

A luggage tag. Sleek leather, expensive. The kind of thing a man like him would have.

I could’ve ignored it. Should’ve ignored it.

But I didn’t.

My eyes traced the silver-embossed letters before I even realized what I was doing.

G. Maddox.

My stomach had clenched before I even processed why.

I should’ve looked away.

But some part of me wanted to know. Some part of me wanted to remember.

And now, I can’t un-know it.

Talia grins like she just cracked some code. "Oh my God. This isn’t just about the sex, is it?"

"Of course it is," I snap. Too fast. Too defensive.

Talia’s grin only widens.

I groan, tossing the water bottle onto the counter. "Look, it was just good. Okay? Really, really good. And my body is just—remembering. That’s it. Simple biology."

Talia hums, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. And tell me, how often does ‘simple biology’ mess with your head this much?"

I grit my teeth, snatching a granola bar and ripping it open like it personally offended me.

She has a point. I hate that she has a point. Because this is messing with me. And I have no idea why.

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