Page 42 of Silver Fox Puck

It’s not a lie. But it’s also not the truth. I don’t even make it one step before another chair pushes back.

Another scrape of wood against tile. Another presence moving in sync with mine.

"Where you headed, Flight?"

My stomach drops. Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I turn slowly, my pulse thudding in my ears.

Grant is standing now, arms relaxed at his sides, watching me.

Not smiling. Not smirking.

Just waiting.

Like he knew I’d break first.

Like he knew I’d need to run.

Like he was just biding his time.

I arch a brow, tilting my head. "Why? You want to follow me?"

He exhales slowly—controlled, deliberate.

Then, just before he turns away, his lips curve.

"Not yet."

I don’t know what pisses me off more—the words, or the fact that they make my stomach flip.

I bite back a groan. Because that? That should not make my stomach flip.

That should not send a stupid thrill up my spine.

That should not make my hands clench into fists just to keep from reacting.

But it does.

And the worst part?

He sees it.

Grant watches me too closely, like he’s catching every single micro-expression, every tell, every little crack in my perfectly built walls.

I swallow, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck.

Then, with all the fake confidence I can muster, I shrug.

"Suit yourself."

Then I turn and I walk away.

But I know—

I just lost another round damnit.

Chapter 8 – Grant

Grant Maddox does not lose control. He doesn’t let emotions cloud his judgment. He doesn’t dwell on things that are over.

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