Page 175 of The Overtime Kiss

He flinches, and recognition flickers in his irises for a beat. I wonder if he’s going to mention his daughter to me, but instead he flicks a piece of unseen lint off his shoulder.

That’s fine by me. I’m up for the element of surprise too.

“And here is your group, Tyler,” Everly says to me, then to the pack of dude bros with them—because holy fuck—Chad and Sabrina’s Dad brought out a six-pack of asshats. I can telltheir breed by the overwhelming aroma of body spray and the heads of gelled hair. Plus, all these guys have that dude bro look to them. So, fuck them.

“This is Tyler Falcon, number forty-four, one of our top defensemen,” Everly says. “He’ll be conducting your tour.”

“Thanks, Everly,” I say, then gesture down the hall. “Let me show you gentlemen around.” Even though that title is a lie.

They’re all sales-y types, showboat-y, snapping pics of themselves against posters of the Sea Dogs in the hall, cracking jokes about how lucky the Sea Dogs are to have them as VIP fans, and maybe they can pick up women at the game like the players must, then trying to peer into the locker room, even though it’s off-limits.

“But we could just pretend we’re on the team, right?” Chad says, and I want to wipe the smug smile off his face.

But all in due time.

“Probably not,” I say, with my most charming fucking voice possible. “Or we might have to get the whole team to escort you out.”

He blinks. “You’d do that?”

“You have no idea what I’d do,” I say coldly, meaning it completely, then adding ajust kiddingsmile. Since it’s not quite time yet.

Almost, but not quite.

I guide them down the hall toward the tunnel. “And this is the tunnel. We go through here before we hit the ice. And yep, you can walk on the floor with skates.”

“Impressive,” Sabrina’s father says, eyeing the sturdy floor, tapping it with his wingtips as he finally speaks for the first time. “Truly impressive everything that goes into the operation. Isn’t it, gentlemen?”

And…he’s even worse than I’d imagined. He truly only cares about appearances. About impressing people—whoever these frat boys are snapping endless pics of their annoying faces.

There’s no remorse in me for what I’m about to do. Right on time, I clear my throat. “Thanks again for coming. There are just a few things I wanted to share before the game tonight,” I say, and the men stop cracking jokes and turn to me right as I hear footsteps grow louder. Sneakers for sure. Along with boots, I think. Sabrina would still be in her warm-up clothes, so I’m praying the sneakers are hers, and that Leighton’s wearing the boots.

“What’s that, man?” Chad asks, all convivial as he plays leader of the pack.

I want to march right up to him and wring his neck. But there’s a time for words and a time for deeds. This is a time for words.

I step closer, raise my forefinger. “You are the biggest fool I’ve ever met. You had the most incredible, wonderful, amazing woman ever, and by some twist of luck or fate, she agreed to marry your lying, cheating ass. And then you had the gall to treat her like she was an accessory. A means to an end. A path to a fucking bonus. You don’t deserve VIP seats. You don’t deserve nice things ever. And she always deserved better than you. I’m so damn glad she figured that out before she wasted another second on you.”

“Dude, burn!” one of the other guys says, the one drenched in Ocean Forest Mist Dragon Sword Slayer spray.

What a great friend.

Chad just sputters, his eyes bugging out. “Who are you to talk to me like that?”

I take one step closer and I tower over him. “I’m the guy who knows how to treat a woman.”

“Well, you certainly don’t know how to treat a VIP or my daughter.” That’s her father, his voice strong, menacing as he cuts in.

But I’m ready for him. I’ve always been ready for assholes like him. I turn away from Chad Huntington, facing David Snow—the real enemy. Chad is just a figurehead. David Snow is the king on the throne of awful parenting.

No idea if Sabrina’s here or not to witness her fantasy. But it’s now or never. “You don’t get to act like you were some supportive father. You ripped your daughter apart every chance you had, including on her wedding day. And including theotherday,” I say, stalking even closer so he can feel threatened, like he made his daughter feel every damn day growing up. “Do not ever come toourhouse again,” I say, going out on a limb with theoursbecause I want my home to be hers as well. “Do not ever set foot onourproperty. And do not ever act like you have a single say in her life. You made her feel like she wasn’t good enough,” I say, then take a breath, gearing up to give him the full piece of my mind.

But the prick cuts in, hissing: “Who do you think you are to talk to me that way? I paid good money for these seats and to treat our clients. You can’t get away with this.”

“But I can, and I will. And I will cover the cost of your seats and donate it to charity. You don’t scare me. I know men like you. I was raised by a man like you. And you lost out on an amazing, kind, caring woman as your daughter. It’s your fault.Yours. You don’t deserve to be a father. But thanks to you, if she’ll have me, I will never stop making sure Sabrina Snow knows how much she is worth—and that’s everything.”

I take a breath, expecting him to try to butt in once more.

But the next voice I hear is feminine. And as strong as ice. “I believe it’s time for you to leave. And don’t ever come back.”

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