Page 30 of Tempting

“Betting your brother’s gonna want a drink after that shot,” he pushes back.

I look away from the ice as the buzzer rings, signaling the end of the game. “Good thing there’s twenty-two other players on this team then, isn’t it?”

“You’re calling Kenzie.” He doesn’t pose it as a question, and I think our goalie’s gonna give me whiplash.

“What the hell, Hayes? You gonna pass notes in class for me too?” One minute, he’s threatening me, and the next, he’s asking if I’m calling her. “Are you trying to set us up now?”

“Fuck off, shithead. I’m just testing you.” His voice holds a thread of teasing, and I can’t decide if he’s serious or not.

“Did I pass?” I ask as the guys skate off the ice.

“To be determined.”

I don’t bother to tell him I’m calling his sister or what I have planned when I make that call.

Kenzie

The delicious, grease-fueled scent of West End cheeseburgers and truffle fries hits me as soon as I walk through my front door. Again...? I drop my keys on my counter, grab a can of diet Coke from the fridge, and a roll of paper towels because I may be a surgeon, but I never remember to add paper plates or napkins to my grocery delivery order. I slip my shoes off before I walk into my living room and unsurprisingly find Monday Night Football on my TV. “You smell like Jose Cuervo and bad decisions. What are you doing on my couch, Callen?”

He pushes a to-go box my way with a lopsided grin. “First. It’s Don Julio. Second. I wanted to watch the game, and the girls are watching some reality shit on our TV. I brought you a BBQ bacon cheeseburger as a peace offering though. Please don’t make me go back. When Bellamy and Caitlin watch that shit, they scream at the TV.”

“Like you don’t scream at the TV during football games.” I take the spot next to him and moan when I open the burger box. My God, that smells good. “Where are Maddox and Killian?”

Once upon a time, the five of us girls lived in that condo.

But for the past few years, it’s been a different five living there.

He offers me a shot of tequila, but I shake my head.

“I yell at football games. You’re supposed to yell during football. They’re watching ballroom dancing.” He looks at me with scared eyes. “Dancing, Kenz. I can’t get behind yelling at the TV during the cha-cha. I shouldn’t even know what the freaking cha-cha is. Please don’t make me leave.”

I lean my head on his shoulder and relax.

I’m not sure how many nights we spent this way in college.

Too many to count, for sure.

“Who’s winning?” I ask as I pop a salty truffle fry in my mouth.

Damn, that’s good.

“New York,” Callen growls back. He hates New York. The New York Nighthawks have been the Philly Kings’ rivals since the dawn of time, according to almost every Philly Kings fan. Well, them and Dallas. “Just let me stay until half time. The dancing should be over by then.”

I hold a fry up to Callen’s mouth, and he bites it out of my fingers.

“I mean, you did bring me truffle fries.”

Callen ends up staying until the end of the game, which is good and bad.

Good, because it’s kept my mind off the phone call I’ve spent my entire day hyper-focusing on. Bad, because when my phone rings at nine-forty-five, it’s sitting on my coffee table, face up, when Nixon’s name flashes across the screen.

Callen looks down at the phone, then laughs and snatches it when I try to grab it. “You two are going to be trouble.” He swipes his finger across the screen. “Hey, man.”

“Callen Sinclair—Give me that phone.” I practically jump to snatch it out of his hand before he hands it to me and mouths the word trouble.

“Go.” I motion toward the door and refuse to look at the screen until the door slams shut behind Callen. “Hey.”

“I told you to be naked, Mackenzie,” Nixon growls through the phone, and he sounds like a man holding on by a thread.

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