Page 30 of Pucked Together

The audacity of this man. I roughly pull on the clothes and whip open the door to face him.

"Are you serious?! You're asking me why I was naked? I came out to ask you that very thing, Balinger. Why did you wash my clothes from last night?" I bark out.

He leans onto the doorframe and looks me up and down with a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"My shirt looks good on you," he says with a smirk, ignoring my question.

I look down at the t-shirt I had tugged on and roll my eyes.

"Answer me, Balinger," I hold his gaze with an unrelenting glare.

"Are you asking me if we had sex, Izzy?" He asks, tilting his head to one side.

"What do you think I'm asking?"

"I think," he moves in closer to me until his lips brush against my ear, and in a raspy whisper, he says, "If we had sex, you would know it, Wildfire."

He pulls back, and his green eyes dance over me. The dimples in his cheeks pulse as he holds back his amusement.

Um...what?

Every hair on my body is standing on end. I hate the effect he has on me.

“Wildfire?” I ask with my hands on my hips.

“You seemed like a Sparky at first. But after seeing you…naked,” he chuckles darkly. “You burn with a wild intensity, Wildfire.”

I suddenly can't think straight. The thoughts of what this man would do with me naked play through my mind like an X-rated movie. The look on his face is so smug and irritating. And he licks his lips like he knows exactly what I'm thinking about. He retreats and reaches for something outside the door.

"Anyways, I believe this is yours." He brings a hanger from behind him, revealing my bra and panties set from the night before.

"When did you—"

"Get ready,” he cuts me off. “I'm driving you to practice. The rest of the guys already carpooled."

He pushes the hanger onto my chest. Still grinning, he turns to go back to the living room. I slip on flip-flops and march after him.

"Do you happen to have my phone too, Warden Balinger?"

"We can check the car, but I didn't see you with a phone last night."

I rub my face, "You've gotta be kidding me." Did I leave it at the bar?

"I'll call it and see if somebody answers," he fishes his phone out of his pocket. "What's your number?" He asks.

I laugh. "Oh no, I know what you're doing."

He looks at me with zero humor in his eyes. "Do you want your phone or not, Izzy?"

I do. I need it, actually. Especially since I need to find a way to get the hell out of Houston and possibly change my name, find a new career, and never be found again.

"Here," he hands me his phone. "Dial it, I'm gonna grab my gear."

He leaves me with the smell of his woodsy cologne tickling my nostrils and making me feel something low in my belly.

God, he smells fantastic. It's not fair.

I punch in my number and hit the call button. It rings twice.

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