Page 40 of Silver Fox Puck

Chews.

Swallows.

Never looks away.

I stare.

He did not just—?

"Damn, Grant," Gator groans. "You eat like a goddamn sniper. The most calculated fry grab I’ve ever seen in my life."

A few of the guys laugh. But I know better. That was not a normal fry grab. That was a message. That was a reminder. That was pure, unfiltered, Silver Fox energy.

And now? I’m burning. I swallow, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck, tilting my head like I’m not affected at all.

"Big moves for a guy who’s supposedly ‘uncomplicated.’"

Grant arches a brow. "Big accusations for someone who was just outmaneuvered over a French fry."

Smug. Asshole.

I reach for another one. Faster this time. So does he. Our fingers brush. And fuck. The contact is brief. Barely anything.

But my pulse jumps like he just put his hands on me again. I yank my hand back, grip my beer like it’s a lifeline, and take a long sip.

Too long. I slam the bottle down and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Childish," I mutter.

"Effective," he counters.

I narrow my eyes. "You really think you’re winning this little game?"

His smirk deepens. "I don’t think, Flight. I know."

And goddamn him—I know he’s right.

I should stop. I should be normal, act like this dinner isn’t turning into a high-stakes psychological war between me… and the smug bastard across from me.

But I can’t. Because Grant Maddox is sitting there, perfectly at ease, pushing my buttons like he was born to do it.

And now? It’s personal.

I lean in, elbows on the table, words sliding out slow and sharp.

"You know," I murmur, tilting my head, "for a guy who’s all about ‘no complications,’ you sure seem awfully interested in me."

Grant doesn’t even blink. He just sits there, dark eyes locked on mine, giving away nothing. Except for the way his hand twitches against the side of his glass.

A tiny move. Calculated. Measured. But I catch it. And I know what it means. I got to him.

Finally. Or at least, I think I did.

Until—

Grant leans in.

Not a lot. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But enough for me to feel it. The heat. The pull. The weight of whatever the hell this is pressing thick between us.

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