Page 68 of Sin Bin

Don’t say it. Please don’tsayit.

I gather my courage. “For one night, can you pretend that there is nooneelse?”

Andre’s hand tightens on my hip. “Yes, Zo. I can definitelydothat.”

He slips me onto my back, black eyes burning brightly, and then gently kisses me on the lips. “I can definitelydothat.”

ChapterTwenty-One

ANDRE

Six Days Left…

“Tacos.”

That’s all Zoe says when I give her a call after morning skate the day following the youth hockey camp. “Is there more to that statement or is this one of those times where I’m supposed to work it out formyself?”

Zoe’s girlish laughter, so at odds with her tenacious personality, comes through the receiver. “I’m craving tacos, that’s all. And since it’s Taco Tuesday . . . I don’t know, I thoughtmaybethat—”

“I’d take you out fortacos?”

“I mean, you certainly don’t have to.” I can practically see her eyes slamming shut with embarrassment. “I’m such an idiot. You’re probably calling to talk about what’s next in the lineup for you, and here I am talking abouttacos.”

God, she’s cute when she gets all worked up. I clear my throat as I toss my gear into my truck and then climb into the driver’s seat. “Actually, I was calling because I wanted toseeyou.”

Silence.

Great.

I drop my head against the seat. “Youthere,Zo?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I just . . .I’dlovetoseeyoutoo.”The last bit is rushed, but I hear the words loud and clear, and damn it, I feel my mouth curl up into what’s no doubt acheesygrin.

“So, tacos?” I ask, still grinning like a fool. “I’m downforthat.”

“Really?” she chirps in my ear with full-enthusiasm. “Oh, that’s great! There’s this little place by my new apartment, and I haven’t had the chance to try itoutyet. . . ”

We plan to meet at the Mexican restaurant in thirty, not that it’ll take me nearly that long to get there, before disconnecting. Putting my car into drive, I head out of the rink and into downtown Boston. To my right, the city’s recognizable skyline reaches toward the sky and reflects against the CharlesRiver.

I’ve been here for a year and yet I don’t think I’ve paid any attention to mysurroundings.

Not until Zoe came back, not until I spent my days looking over my shoulder just to see if she might be walkingtowardme.

I smooth my hand over the steering wheel, thinking back on last night. On the hottest sex I’veeverhad.

Friends withbenefits.

I snort out loud because that right there is thestupidestidea I’ve ever had. I don’t want to be “just friends” with Zoe Mackenzie. And maybe I’m going about this the wrong way, because it’s been an incredibly long time since I’ve dated long-term, but I want more with Zoe. More than sex, more thanfriends.

I want it all—and, for a man who’s more comfortable hiding behind the icy façade, I’ve got no idea how to tell Zoe this. Hell, I’m pretty sure I just boxed myself into the twenty-first-century version of the “friendzone.”

By the time I pull up in front of La Cantina, the little Mexican joint Zoe’s itching to try out, I’ve made a new mission, anewplan.

It’s time to woo ZoeMackenzie.

Does anyonestill“woo”?

Fuck it, doesn’t matter. It’shappening.

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