Page 33 of Breaking Point
Forget bringing her home, how could I forgetanyinteraction with her?
The smattering of freckles along her cheeks and nose become stark against the blush that crawls along her face. Following the path of her freckles, my gaze snags on her eyes and I realize where they’ve landed. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips, until I remember I’m in a towel—a very small towel because I have no clean laundry.
I rub the nape of my neck. “I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but um…” I clear my throat. “What exactly did we do last night? My memory is a bit hazy.”
Her brows jump sky-high, along with the pitch of her voice. “Excuse me?”
Never matter the words, hervoice… God, I want to record it just to listen to it on repeat, the way it sends shivers down my spine. Ignoring the flood of sensation, I rush on, hating that I’ve put the divot between her brows there as she looks at me with…disgust?
Why is she looking at me with disgust?
“I’m sorry, I must have drunk far too much and it’s clouded my memory.”
“And your judgment.”
My head cocks to the side. “That, too,” I admit.But certainly not with her.
As if hearing my thoughts, she barks out an incredulous laugh before throwing up her hands. “I’m not some puck bunny!”
“Who said anything about puck bunnies?”
She’s far from one.
Puck bunnies will do anything to bag a hockey player. Either by sleeping with them or marriage to earn the title of being called a WAG. And to do so, they mold themselves to fit the version they think you want. They won’t express their own thoughts or opinions because they’re too scared of sending you running. So theysit there and smile and nod and act as if you’re God’s gift to the world.
But she… I can’t help but smile.
She snapped at me.I’ve never had a woman snap at me like that before.
It’s surprisingly hot. So hot I’m going to have to move my towel in a moment. Jesus, what am I? A teenager? One look and snarky snap from this woman and my hormones are frayed.
“Stop smiling,” she demands.
Now I’m smirking. “Sorry, love, can’t help it.”
Something I’ve said makes her stiffen, and then she glowers. “Do not call me that.”
“What? Love?”
“Yes, anything besides my name. It’s inappropriate.”
“What’s inappropriate is that I don’t have your number.” Or maybe I do. I truly don’t remember anything after the shots I forced Kieran to take with me.
She barely contains an eye roll. “If you’d check Lucy’s messages, I’m sure she’s sent along my details.”
Now I frown. “Why would Lucy know your details? Did she set us up?”
“Set us up?” Her eyes widen. “Grayson, I’m not a hookup or a date. I’m your goddamn assistant.” She huffs, muttering under her breath, “And now I’m starting to realize why the job pays so high.”
Fucked isn’t the right word to accurately describe how thoroughly I’ve misread the situation at hand, and yet it’s the only word ringing through my mind like a broken church bell.
Fucked.
Fucked.
FUCKED.
Pulling out my phone, I find she’s right, I have a slew of unread messages from Lucy, all stating that Bella is starting today and to not scare her away because she enjoys this one’s company. At least now I understand why she was blinking at me furiously when I rounded the corner in my towel.
