Page 6 of Hat Trick

My feet diminish the distance between us, the sound of my six-inch heels clipping across the nineteenth-century hardwood floors drowned out by deep masculinelaughter.

I step up beside her. “How many have youhad?”

“Truth?” Charlie asks, not even turning herhead.

“Always.”

“Two. I’m trying to decide if I want a third or if I want to switch gears and go for the chocolate-covered strawberriesinstead.”

I laugh and bump her hip with mine. “The strawberries,obviously.”

“Cupcake it is, then,” she murmurs with a wink at me, and then plucks one out of thedisplay.

There was a time, not even that long ago, when Charlie and I were more likely to tear at each other’s hair than crack jokes. I’m at fault for that one, like always. Adaline screwed me up in ways that I can’t even begin to fathomsome—

No. No passing the blame to someone else. First thing I’d learned at therapy when I began going last year. Some days, days like today when I’ve listened to my mother spew her bullshit, it’s hard to remember to take an active role in mydecisions.

Think of me as a reformed Regina George, except that the reformation period is never quite done. Something always pops up to remind me that my progress hasn’t been as steep as I’d like to think itis.

“I saw you walk in withHunt.”

Cupcakes. I need sugar. After the day I’ve had, I’m in desperate need of a pick-me-up, not to mention a distraction.Stop thinking about how good Marshall looks.A nearly impossible task,really.

I shrug off Charlie’s comment and dive for the closest dessert. “We didn’t walkintogether.”

“You were, like, four steps ahead of him.” Charlie’s gaze doesn’t waver from my face. “Did you two cometogether?”

We’ve never come together, at all. Oh, God. Now isnotthe time to start thinking about sexual innuendos with Marshall Hunt at the forefront. “You and Zoe need to stop trying to throw us together, Charls. I’m notinterested.”

That wasn’t quite true. If Marshall and I were on Facebook, our relationship would definitely be marked as “it’s complicated.” From the first moment that he sat behind me in an accounting class at Northeastern, my focus has always been elsewhere. Back then, it was on . . . Well, it doesn’t really matter. Not anymore. Point is, objectively I can see that Marshall Hunt is a damn good catch. The dimples don’t hurt his sex appeal,either.

But finding a guy attractive doesn’t mean you want to date him. I don’t want to date Marshall. Sometimes, yes, I think about the possibilities—usually when my walls are down and I’ve thrown back a few glasses of wine—but, rationally, I know it’s not a good idea. I’ve spent the better part of a year avoiding the dating scene altogether. I wanted to focus on the new me, the me Iwantto be, the me who isn’t anything at all like AdalineCorwin.

I can’t do those things if I’m falling into bed with a six-foot-two hockey player with a slow, easy grin, and a heat in his eyes that would tempt me into never leaving his bedroom—especially not if the Blades’ very own Casanova then dumped me to go back to one of his leggywomen.

I’m not in the market for a broken heart, now orever.

Not to mention that the love thing? I’m still not convinced it’sreal.

Charlie chuckles at my denial. “How long have you been telling yourself that you aren’tinterested?”

My shoulders stiffen at her wry tone. “I’mnot.”

“Wait, hold on, is that your . . . yup, that’s your nose growing,Pinocchio.”

“I’m not—it’s not—” Flustered, I stare down at my untouched cupcake. Life would be so much easier if my two best friends didn’t want to see me shackled and hooked up just like the two of them. I know theymeanwell. They want me to be happy. And I amhappy—mostly. I’d probably be happier if I didn’t have them throwing Marshall at me whenever we’re in a groupsetting.

Not that Marshall is any better. The man is utterly relentless—charming, yes, but relentless nevertheless. If I were a weaker woman, I’d give in. Sleep with him once and then send him on his way. If I were still up to my old ways, I’d probably do justthat.

The worry comes in when I think about becoming needy just like Adaline—that one taste of Marshall will never be enough. And that, when he leaves, I’ll crash and burn just like my mother. Or worse, that I’ll be back to my old tricks again and crush him without even realizingit.

“Gwen.”

I meet Charlie’s gaze, someone I’ve known even longer than I’ve known Marshall. While Marshall has seen me at rock bottom, Charlie has personally borne the brunt of Old Gwen. When we first started hanging out, along with Zoe, I was convinced Charls was just yanking me along, biding her time to strike perfect revenge for all the shit I pulled on her. But, no, Charlie Denton is just . . . good, all the way to her core. The sort of good that I desperately want tobe.

I put up a hand, cutting her off. “Don’t sayit.”

Her lips turn up in a grin. “You don’t even know what I’m going tosay.”

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