Page 47 of Twisted Collide

My nose scrunched at that one. I was not surprised that he would have some inappropriate response. It earned him a tongue-lashing from Aiden and a gut punch from Wolfe.

Today, when I look over at Dane, he looks more serious than usual. Which isn’t crazy ’cause the man rarely smiles.

Not true.

I’ve seen him smile.

A strange feeling lingers in the air whenever he’s around, and today, it’s worse. More tense.

Maybe it’s that he’s avoiding me. Or maybe it has absolutely nothing to do with me at all.

That’s more likely what’s going on.

My stomach twists at the thought, but I keep snapping away,hoping I won’t think about him if I take enough pictures of the other guys.

No such luck. No matter how hard I will myself not to look, I do. I can’t help it.

I’m obsessed, and I have to wonder if it’s actually him who has my attention or the fact he’s ignoring me, and I have some childhood issues about not being enough.

That’s something to unpack another time.

From across the ice, I see him look up. I’m not able to see his eyes clearly, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell he’s not happy. I click away, taking as many shots as I can.

Without even thinking, I head in his direction, swallowing hard to calm my racing heart as I continue to take picture after picture.

He glares in my direction, and as my hand hovers over the shutter, I look up from the camera and directly at him.

What did I do now? I’m just doing my job. Something I was ordered to do.

Why is he extra grumpy today?

My brain filters through the past few days. Have I done something to piss him off?

I haven’t really spoken to him since the bar.

He tears his gaze away, going about stretching. I force myself to take shots of the other guys, pushing Dane and his apparent irritation far from my mind, but before long, my eyes wander back to him.

He skates, and I watch as he does a few drills with his teammates. When he skates in my direction, I move in close.

“What are you doing?” he snaps, and I look up, a bit startled.

“Sorry?”

“Why are you taking pictures of me?”

I tilt my head. “I’m taking pictures of everyone. It’s my job.”

His eyes narrow, and he must realize he’s being ridiculous because his hard gaze softens.

“Are you okay?” I ask, not expecting him to answer me, but he moves closer to the ice’s edge.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? You look . . .” I try to find the right words. “Extra. Um, grumpy?”

His eyes go wide, and now I’m close enough to see the blue of his irises.

He really does have beautiful eyes. A stormy ocean turning and shifting with the wind and waves.

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