Page 45 of Good Boy

He grins over his glass. “Sometimes you just gotta roll with this place.”

Whatever.

Wes leaves for practice a little later, but two more players arrive—Eriksson and the new guy, Will O’Connor.

Eriksson says hello to me but then parks himself on a stool, diving into conversation with Lisa. It sounds as if she’s counseling him on some aspect of his divorce.

And anyway, I haven’t met O’Connor yet, so I focus on him. “I’ve just had my first month in Toronto too,” I tell him. “It’s a nice town, right?”

“It just got nicer,” he says in a deep, smoky voice.

Dude, really? I suppress a weary grin. “How’s that?” I wonder how cheesy he’ll get if I let him.

“Because you’re here.”

My smile pops free. “Uh-huh. So what else do you like about Toronto?”

“My new place is killer. I rented a penthouse apartment with a hot tub on the terrace.”

“Did you now?” Inwardly, my eyes are rolling. Hard.

O’Connor props an elbow on the bar and tips his chin onto his hand. He blinks at me, and his lashes are so long I’m pretty sure I felt a breeze. Will O’Connor is a pretty boy. He’s got wavy hair and the aristocratic cheekbones of a Ralph Lauren model.

He’s beautiful and he knows it. Even the way he’s flashing a bicep at me right now feels rehearsed.

“Sounds like a party,” I say. “How’s your kitchen? That’s the one thing I really hate about living in the graduate student dorm. I can’t do any cooking.”

“Oh, I’m not much of a cook. As long as the coffee machine works and the fridge is full of beer, I’m a happy boy.”

“I see. So the kitchen isn’t your favorite room. How about…”

He lifts his eyebrows and grins at me. “The bedroom, you mean? Most chicks want to know all about my bedroom.”

“I bet they do,” I say with a straight face.

He leans in, close enough that his breath tickles my ear. “I can give you a private tour later. Or now if you want. I’m happy to ditch these losers.”

I jerk at the nip of his teeth against my earlobe.

Did he just bite my ear?

Before I can lecture him about proper bar etiquette, O’Connor is being pulled backward, courtesy of Blake.

“Hands off,” Blake says in a low voice. “That’s Wes’s sister.” But the possessive gleam in his eyes makes it clear that any sisterly feelings on his side play no part in this macho posturing.

“Chill, bro. Message received.” O’Connor winks at me before drifting over to Eriksson.

“What the hell was that?” I hiss at Blake.

“Good question. You go first.” He crosses his huge arms over his chest.

“I’m not allowed to talk to your teammates?”

“Talk all you want. But flirting ain’t allowed, honey.”

Seriously? “I’ll flirt with whomever I want,” I shoot back.

“Aw, you really think that?” He smiles. “That’s so sweet.”

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