Page 30 of Twisted Collide

A chill runs up my spine.

What the actual hell?

Does he think I did this on purpose?

Does he think I knew?

Well, if he does, then he has a thing coming for him because I didn’t.

After a few more minutes of the coach yapping about God knows what . . . yes, I know I should be listening, but alas, I have more pressing matters at hand, like why the hottie is giving me death glares.

Finally, the meeting concludes, and the stranger walks. I follow him.

I’m not sure where he’s going, and I’m sure my sperm donor isexpecting me, but when I turn my head over my shoulder, I see he’s already preoccupied with the young guy he was staring at during his speech. This must be the team “player.”

Too bad he’s not the one my “father” should be worried about.

“Hey,” I whisper-shout, and surprisingly, he stops.

With slow and wary steps, I make my approach. He turns around to face me. Large blue eyes that only yesterday made my knees weak are now narrowed and hard. Decadent lips are set into a straight line, and the hard-set jaw I’m staring at makes my hands tremble.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” There are a few different topics he could be speaking on.

“Cut the shit. Did you know who I was?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he snaps. My shoulders straighten, and I stand tall.

I open my mouth, then clamp it shut as I think of what he’s implying. Does he really think I planned this whole thing? I take a deep breath, calming down the storm brewing inside me with the words I want to say before I’m calm enough to speak.

“It’s the truth.” I inhale again. “I had no clue who you were. If you remember, I’m not a fan of hockey?” I lift my brow in challenge. “If anyone was lying last night, it wasn’t me.”

“You want me to believe this is some sort of coincidence?”

“Or fate.”

“Cute,” he chides. “But I don’t believe in that shit.”

“Listen, it is what it is. No harm done. Unless—” I step closer to him, lip tipping up into what I like to consider a sexy smirk.

“There will be no unless,” he says, voice hard and unyielding. “Coach is like a father to me.”

“Must be nice,” I mutter under my breath.

If he hears my comment, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he placeshis hands in his pockets and is silent for a moment; a second later, his chin lifts, and he meets my stare.

“Nothing happened. You don’t know me.”

“Whatever you say—I don’t even know your name.”

“Good.”

“Wow, if I thought you were grumpy yesterday, it has nothing on this new version.” I shake my head. “I should know your name, so I know who to stay away from.”

He lets out a breath. “Dane.”

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