16. Renee

The burger tastes like heaven, assuming heaven tastes like bacon. And the strawberry milkshake is so good I wouldn’t be mad about drowning in it.

“So, in overtime, the whole team shoots at the goalie?” I ask in between bites.

“Not all at once.” Orion laughs. “We send out one shooter at a time, taking turns with the other team.” He motions back and forth with his hand. “Them, us, them, us. Three times until one of us wins.”

“That sounds exciting.” I’m picturing the shots I could get of the crowd going wild, of the shooter going one-on-one with the goalie, of the scoreboard flashing OVERTIME in big, exciting red letters. “I really like this job.”

He grins. “I like the way you appreciate hockey.” Then he checks his wristwatch and his face screws up in a grimace. “I should get you back to your apartment, though. It’s getting late.”

“Because of Weston?”

He doesn’t bother denying it. “He’s a friend. I don’t want to go… encroaching on his turf.”

“I am a hundred percent not ‘his turf.’”

“I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just a guy code thing. Men have dumb words for shit like this, I guess.”

Sighing, I drop my burger wrapper back into the brown paper bag. “I should have you all just form a damn line at the apartment door.”

He chuckles. “That would certainly do the trick, assuming you’re trying to drive him insane.”

“I’m glad this is tickling your funny bone, but nothing about this is cool,” I snap irritably. “That controlling asshole has no business telling anyone anything about me. Definitely not to ‘stay away.’”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think it’s because he likes you.” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid Weston might hear something.

“Well, that sucks for him.”

Even as I say that, though, a warm, pleased flush races over my skin.

Orion shrugs. “He’s really not a bad guy.”

I fake a gag. “Nope. Never. Not on his best day and my worst. Not even if he’s the last man on earth and humanity itself will go extinct if we don’t procreate.”

“You might change your mind.” He shrugs. “He can be charming.”

“Most assholes can.”

Orion chuckles again. It’s such a nice sound. I wish I liked it more. “Wow. He really rubbed you the wrong way, huh?”

No, that snide voice in my head interjects again. He rubbed me exactly the right way. That’s the problem.

“Something like that.” I drop the last of my uneaten fries back into the paper bag. “I don’t know why you’re so firmly in his corner, to be honest. It isn’t your job to defend him, but I’ll make sure he knows you did. Not that it helped his case much.”

“My God.” He shakes his head and laughs wistfully. “He’s going to have his hands full. I can’t wait to watch.”

“All you’re going to have to watch is me kicking him square in his baby maker.”

“Now, that is something I would pay to see.”

“Well, get your wallet out, bucko, because first opportunity, I’m giving him a pro bono vasectomy.”

“You know,” warns Orion, “if somebody offs him tonight and the FBI interrogates me, I have to tell them about this conversation. My hands will be tied.”

“At least I’ll go down fighting the good fight.”

He salutes me again with a wink. “Well, Little Miss Guerilla Warfare, it’s getting later and later. I should get you back to your place. I have practice at six in the morning and a game tomorrow night.” He smiles. “Though I guess you know that already.”

“I’ve never been to a hockey game. Tomorrow should be an event.”

“You’ll have to let me know how you like it.” He stands up, then offers a hand to help me to my feet.

It really is a beautiful night. I’ve got a belly full of fast food and the sun on the dark waves is making the whole ocean look like melted black glass. It’s gorgeous in a way I don’t appreciate often enough.

“Thanks for dinner,” I tell him.

Orion winks again. “Best fourteen bucks I ever spent.”

Orion opens the door to the lobby for me, but he doesn’t step foot inside. He gives me an apologetic look when I glance up at him. “His turf, remember?” he teases.

I groan and slug him in the arm. It’s like punching bricks and I immediately regret my choice. “You hockey players are the worst,” I remark.

“You get used to us,” he replies. “Some more so than others. Have a good night, Renee.”

Then he saunters off. I watch as he gets in his car and drives away, until the red of his taillights disappears around the corner.

Then, with a sigh, I turn and march inside to bring hell to Weston Scott’s door.

I chuck my heels into Sutton’s apartment as I pass by and proceed barefoot to Weston’s unit. I pound my fist against the door as hard as I can manage.

For a moment, I hear nothing.

Then—movement.

A shuffling of feet, a deadbolt opens, the knob twists, and he’s standing there, bare-chested now, though still in the same saliva-inducing gray sweats. For a second, I forget words. Not just the ones I want to say to him, but the entirety of the English language.

Thankfully, it’s only for a second before my brain clears and I remember why I came here.

Vengeance.

“You have no right meddling in my personal life,” I snarl ferally. “No right telling anyone to stay away from me. I will see, date, and sleep with anyone I want. And not a single bit of it is your fucking business.”

By the time I’m done, I’m vibrating with rage. Weston, on the other hand, is cool as can be. A slow smirk spreads across his face.

“Such a dirty mouth,” he croons in that low, growly voice of his that heats my blood in a wholly other way.

That’s all it takes—four little words—to make me realize this was a mistake. I open my mouth to reply, then think better of it. I pivot on my heel and fast-walk back to Sutton’s. I slam the door behind me and lean against it, breath panting.

Four words.Four little words did to me what a whole night of hanging out with Orion couldn’t. I’m alive now, fully alive, every nerve ending burning hot enough to power a solar system. My heart is pounding fast and my thighs are quivering.

I can’t hear anything from Weston’s end of the hall, but then again, I don’t need to.

I don’t have to listen for his evil laugh outside to know it’s there.