Page 32 of Wild Blades

Black glossy hair so shiny, I want to ask her what products she uses. It’s like a mirror. I swear she uses her hair to apply her thick black eyeliner and statement red lipstick she wears. Unlessthey are permanently tattooed on, which would make more sense; it’s applied with perfection.

“Nice to meet you, Myles.” Over pronouncing the last letter of his name making it sound like she’s hissing, she secretly checks him out again.

Does she like him?

Why do you care, Wade? You were telling her you hated her only a few weeks ago.

“You should come join us. Do you think you could help a girl out and you two could entertain my friends while Wade and I take selfies and sign autographs with the crowd of fans that keeps growing?” Thumbing over her shoulder, I follow it. “It’s a shame the VIP area is being remodeled,” she says. “This temporary area they’ve sectioned off on the lower floor isn’t ideal, is it?” she asks, as if sensing how uncomfortable I am with the makeshift setting.

And right enough, there are at least two dozen puck bunnies, most of which I recognize from hanging outside the arena before and after games.

I’ve become an exhibit at the petting zoo.

“I don’t want to do that. Not tonight. I’m out with my friends.”

“You exhaust me, Wade Collins.”

“We are off the clock. It’s Friday night.” The muscles grow tight in my jaw.

She checks her manicure as if it’s anything other than perfect. “You are never off the clock, and neither am I.” Smoothing her hands down her black dress that looks like it’s painted on, Kali sighs. “Whatever, you win.”

“It’s not a game.” I give her a frosty look.

Throwing me a dirty look back because clearly, she thinks I’m playing one, which I’m not.

She pats me on the shoulder, then looks left and then right, acknowledging my friends. “Have fun, boys. If you change your mind, come find me.” Flashing a killer smile, she slinks off to the other side of the VIP area and sits down beside her two friends, leaving a waft of her vanilla and coconut perfume she wears behind, invading my nostrils when I don’t want it to.

“What the fuck just happened?” Myles punches my bicep a touch more aggressively than I would have given him credit for.

I lean against the bar.

“Are you fucking her?” Myles asks from my left.

“Fuck no.” Tension grows in my shoulders.

“Why not?” Ezra asks, laughing, whacking me over the back of my head, making me flinch. “You really have lost your A-game.”

What they’ve forgotten is that I never had it in the first place. I don’t flirt, don’t sleep around. Had one girlfriend. Then fucked Britney.

End of.

“She’s my publicist.” I kill their curiosity.

“Since when?” Myles’s voice goes up a pitch in surprise.

Standing straighter, I look at them both. “She’s one of the specialists Marcus hired. Retired from modeling. Has a publicity agency, and she’s helping to raise my profile.”

There you go guys, short, sharp to the point. “It’s as simple as that,” I add, ensuring they get the message.

That shuts them up. I do my best not to look over at Kali.

Too late. Did it.

I look away.

But my eyes slide back again.

It’s as if I can’t help myself.

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