Page 56 of Puck Prince

Because there might be a red-headed other woman who wouldn’t like it one bit.

The question that’s been burning in my brain for weeks bursts out of me before I can think better of it. “You say he’s never been in love before?”

“Not really.” He winces like he’s knows he’s betraying some guy code. “A lot of flings, but nothing that made his head spin. Nothing like this.”

“No one that’s come in and out of his life? No… commitment?”

Lance gives me an odd look, and I can tell he feels the ice under him getting thinner. “If you’re asking me if he’s ever been married, the answer is no.”

Interesting.

Well… here goes nothing.

“So, the woman who goes in and out of his place from time to time with the baby…”

All at once, Lance retreats. The shutters close and the lights are off. No one is home. “I don’t know who you’re referring to. Owen’s never mentioned that to me.”

“Never mentioned what to you?” Owen strides in the room.

Fuck.

I thought Lance’s timing was good before, but Owen’s is a billion times better.

I’m about to say something, anything—an on-the-spot lie to hide the excavation I’m conducting into his personal life, but Lance steps in.

“Why you started this trend of getting taped before the game.”

Owen stops in front of us, his eyes only briefly grazing over me. “Just something I do. Can’t help it if everyone copies me.”

“If I remember right, you usually go to the athletic trainer for your tape, though; not the PT.” Lance smiles knowingly.

Owen shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Tape is tape.”

“You said it was good luck. A ritual to never be broken.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t believe in that anymore.” Owen won’t look at me.

“Orrr you have a new good luck charm now.” Lance winks, and my face reddens. Then he makes his way out, whistling “L-O-V-E” by Sinatra as he disappears.

I can’t help my smile. “I like him.”

“I hate him.”

“You do not. Now, sit down.” I smack Owen playfully on the arm. It’s a good arm. Firm.

I only notice because it’s medically necessary, given my job. It’s not because it’s the first physical contact we’ve had since our date. The firstanythingwe’ve had in a while.

There’s static in the air.

I need to put it out before it starts a fire.

“So what other pregame rituals do you have?” I ask.

“It’s not a ritual, really. The guys just like making a big deal out of it because they know it gets on my nerves.”

“Speaking of your nerves, relax your shoulders.” I run my hands down his neck to the middle of his back. “So it’s not a good luck charm, after all?”

“I don’t really believe in luck.” His head is tilted back with his eyes closed, his jaw clenching and unclenching as I work my hands over his knots. I’ve seen him do that with his jaw before… right before he?—

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